tihvavy  of t:he  t:heological  ^tminary 

PRINCETON    .   NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

John  M.  Krebs  Donation 


BV  4243  .S25  1832  v. 2 
Saurln,  Jacques,  1677—1730. 
Sentons  of  the  Rev.  James 
Saur-ln,  lato  pastor  o£  th« 


SERMONS 


OF 


THE  REV.  JAMES   SAURIN, 


LATE  PASTOR  OF  THE  FRENCH  CHURCH  AT  THE  HAGUE. 


FROm  THE  FRENCH, 


REV.  ROBERT  ROBINSON,  REV.  HENRY  HUNTER,  D.  D.; 

AND 

REV.  JOSEPH  SUTCLIFFE,  A.  M. 


A  NEW  EDITION,  WITH  ADDITIONAL  SERMONS. 


REVISED    AND   CORRECTED 


BY  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  BURDER,  A.  M. 

Late  of  Clare  Hall,  Cambndge;   Lecturer  of  the  United  Parishes  of  Christ    Church,  Newgate 
Streets  and  Sf.  Leonard,  Foster  Lane,  London. 

WITH  A  LIKENESS  OF  THE  AUTHOR,  AND  A  GENERAL  INDEX. 


FROM  THE  LAST  LOJVDOJV  EDITION'. 

WITH  A  PREFACK  BY  THE  REV.  J.  P.  K,  HENSHAW,  D.  D.; 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES— VOL.  II. 


BALTIMORE. 

PUBLISHED  BY  PLASKITT  &  CO.,  and  ARMSTRONG  «t  PLASKITT. 

1832. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


Page 
3 


-  52 

68  j 
64  i 
71  j 

82  I 

92 
98 

-  108 
115 


Sermon  LII. — Christian  Casuistry, 

Sermon  LIII. — The  necessity  of  Progres- 
sive Religion,      -        -        -        -        - 

Sermon  LIV.— The  Moral  Martyr, 

Sermon  LV. — The  Fatal  Consequences  of 
a  Bad  Education,        -        -        -        - 

Sermon  LVI. — General  Mistakes, 

Sermon  LVII. — The  Advantages  of  Piety, 

Sennon  LVIH. — Tlio  llcpcntancc  of  the 
Unchaste  Woman,      -        -        -        - 

Sermon  LIX. — Tlio  Vanity  of  attempting 
to  oppose  God, 

SermonLX. — Imaginary  Schemes  of  Hap- 
piness,       _-._._ 

Sermon  LXI. — Disgust  with  Life, 

Sermon  LXII. — Tlio  Passions, 

Sermon  LXIII. — Transient  Devotions,  f- 

Sermon  LXIV.— The  diflerent  Methods 
of  Preachers,      _        -        .        -        - 

Sermon  LXV. — The  Deep  things  of  God, 

Sermon  LXVI. — Tlio  Sentence  passed 
upon  Judas  by  Jesus  Christ, 

Sermon  LXVII. — The  Cause  of  the  De 
struction  of  Impenitent  Sinners,  - 

Sermon  LXVIIL— The  Grief  of  the  Righ- 
teous for  the  Misconduct  of  the  Wicked,  121 

An  Essay  on  the  Conduct  of  David  at  tlie 
Court  of  Achisji,  .        -        .        . 

Sermon  LXIX.— The  Song  of  Simeon,    -  140 

Sermon  LXX. — Ciirist's  Valedictory  Ad- 
dress to  his  Disciples — Part  I. 

Sermon  LXX. — Christ's  Valedictory  Ad- 
dress to  his  Disciples — Part  II. 

Sermon  LXXI. — Christ's  Sacerdotal  Pray 
er — Part  I.         .        _        -        .        . 

Sermon  LXXI. — Clu-ist's  Sacerdotal  Pray- 
er—Part  II.        

Sermon  LXXII.— The  Crucifixion— Part 
I. 

Sermon  LXXII.- The  Crucifixion— Part 
II. 

Sermon  LXXIIL— Obscure  Faith— Part  I. 

Sermon  LXXIIL— Obscure  Faith— Part 
II. 

Sermon  LXXIV.— The  Believer  exalted 
together  with  Jesus  Christ — Part  I. 

Sermon  LXXIV.— The  Christian  a  Par- 
taker in  the  E.xaltation  of  Jesus  Christ 
—Part  II. 

Sermon  LXXV. — For  a  Communion  Sab- 
bath—Part I. 

Sermon  LXXV. — For  a  Communion  Sab- 
bath—Part II. 193 

Sermon  LXXVI— The  Rapture  of  St. 
Paul— Parti. 

Sermon",  LXXVI— The  Rapture  of  St. 

Paul— Part  II.  .... 

Sermon  LXXVI.— The  Rapture  of  St. 

Paul— Part  III.  .... 

Sermon  LXXVII. — On  Numbering  our 

Days— Part  I.  -        -        -        -  209 


129 


147 


-  151 


156 


159 


165 


169 
173 


177 


181 


185 


190 


200 


203 


207 


Page 

Sermon  LXXVII. — On  Numbering  our 
Days— Part  II.  -        -        .        -  214 

Sermon  LXXVIIL— The  true  Glory  of  a 
Christian — Part  I.      -        -        -        -218 

Sermon  LXXVIIL— The  true  Glory  of  a 
Ciiristian— Part  II.      -        .        .        -  222 

Sermon  LXXIX. — On  the  Fear  of  Death 
—Parti. 225 

Sermon  LXXIX.— On  the  Fear  of  Death 
—Part  II. 229 

Sermon  LXXIX.— On  the  Fear  of  Death 
—Part  III. 232 

Sermon  LXXX.— On  the  Delay  of  Con- 
version— Part  I.  .        -        -        -  241 

Sermon  LXXX. — On  the  Delay  of  Con- 
version— Part  II.         -        -        -        -  251 

Sermon  LXXX. — On  the  Delay  of  Con- 
version— Part  III.        -        .        -        -  260 

Sermon  LXXXI. — On  Perseverance,  271 

Sermon  LXXXII. — On  the  Example  of 
the  Saints — Part  I.  ...  278 

Sermon  LXXXIII. — On  the  Example  of 
the  Saints — Part  II.  -        -        _  285 

Sermon  LXXXIV. — St.  Paul's  discourse 
before  Felix  and  Drusilla,  -        -  293 

Sermon  LXXXV. — On  the  Covenant  of 
God  with  the  Israelites,      -        -        -  310 

Sermon    LXXXVI.— The    Seal    of  the     - 
Covenant,  -        .        .        _        .  307 

Sermon  LXXXVIL— The  Family  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  .        -        -        _        _  313 

Sermon  LXXXVIIL— St.  Peter's  Denial 
of  his  Master,  .        _        -        _  320 

Sermon  LXXXIX.— On  the  Nature  of 
the  Unpardonable  Sin,        ...  327 

Sermon  XC. — On  the  Sorrow  for  the 
Death  of  Relatives  and  Friends,  -  334 

Sermon  XCI.-.On  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  341 

Sermon  XCII — The  Voice  of  the  Rod,      347 

Sermon  XCIII. — Difficulties  of  the  Chris- 
tian Religion,  -        .        -        .  355 

Sermon  XCIV. — Consecration  of  the 
Church  at  Voorburgh,  _        .        -  363 

Sermon  XCV. — On  Festivals,  and  parti- 
cularly on  the  Sabbath-Day,        -        -  370 

Sermon  XCVI. — The  calamities  of  Eu- 
rope, ...--.  377 

Sermon  XCVII.— A  Taste  for  Devotion,  .  384 

Sermon  XCVIII. — On  Regeneration — 
Part  I. 391 

Sermon  XCVIII. — On  Regeneration — 
Part  II. 394 

Sermon  XCVIII. — (now  first  trans- 
lated.) The  Necessity  of  Regenera- 
tion—Part III.  -         -        -        -  400 

Sermon  XCIX. — (translated  by  M.  A. 

BURDER.       NOW  FIRST    PRINTED.)      The 

Conduct  of  God  to  Men,  and  of  Men 

to  God, 411 

Sermon  C. — The  Address  of  Christ  to 
John  and  Mary,         ....  417 


SERMON  LU. 


rsiiïc 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY.      *%s 


Proverbs  iv.  26. 


Ponder  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  all  thy  toays  shall  be  established. 


The  sentence  which  we  have  now  read,  in- 
cludes a  subject  of  immense  magnitude,  more 
proper  to  fill  a  volume,  than  to  be  comprised 
in  a  single  sermon;  however,  we  propose  to 
express  the  subject  of  it  in  tliis  one  discourse. 
When  we  sliall  have  explained  the  subject,  we 
will  put  it  to  proof;  I  mean,  we  will  apply  it 
to  some  religious  articles,  leaving  to  your  pioty 
the  care  of  applying  it  to  a  great  number,  and 
of  deriving  from  the  general  application  this 
consequence,  if  we  "  ponder  the  paths  of  our 
feet,  all  our  ways  will  be  established." 

I  suppose,  first,  you  affix  just  ideas  to  this 
metaphorical  expression,  "  ponder  the  path 
of  tiiy  feet."  It  is  one  of  those  singular  figures 
of  speech,  which  agrees  better  with  the  genius 
of  the  sacred  language  than  witli  that  of  ours. 
Remark  this  once  for  all.  There  is  one  among 
many  objections  made  by  the  enemies  of  reli- 
gion, which  excels  in  its  kind;  I  mean  to  say, 
it  deserves  to  stand  first  in  a  list  of  the  most 
extravagant  sophisms:  this  is,  that  there  is  no 
reason  for  making  a  difference  between  the 
genius  of  the  Hebrew  language  and  the  idiom 
of  other  languages.  It  would  seem,  by  this 
objection,  that  a  book  not  originally  written  in 
the  idiom  of  the  language  of  scepticism  can  not 
be  divinely  inspired.  On  this  absurd  principle, 
the  Scripture  could  not  be  written  in  any  lan- 
guage; for  if  a  Greek  had  a  right  to  object 
against  inspiration  on  this  account,  an  Arabian, 
and  a  Persian,  and  all  other  people  have  the 
same.  Who  does  not  perceive  at  once,  that 
the  inspired  writers,  delivering  their  messages 
at  first  to  the  Jews,  "  to  whom  were  committed 
the  oracles  of  God,"  Rom.  iii.  2,  spoke  pro- 
perly according  to  the  idiom  of  their  language? 
They  ran  no  risk  of  being  misunderstood  by 
other  nations,  whom  a  desire  of  being  saved 
should  incline  to  study  the  language  for  the 
sake  of  the  wisdom  taught  in  it. 

How  extravagant  soever  this  objection  is, 
so  extravagant  that  no  infidel  will  openly  avow 
it,  yet  it  is  adopted,  and  applied  in  a  thousand 
instances.  The  book  of  Canticles  is  full  of 
figures  opposite  to  the  genius  of  our  western 
languages;  it  is  therefore  no  part  of  the  sacred 
canon.  It  would  be  easy  to  produce  other 
examples.  Let  a  modern  purist,  who  affects 
neatness  and  accuracy  of  style,  and  gives  lec- 
tures on  punctuation,  condemn  this  manner  of 
speaking,  "  ponder  the  patii  of  thy  feet;"  with 
all  my  heart.  The  inspired  authors  had  no 
less  reason  to  make  use  of  it,  nor  interpreters  to 
affirm,  that  it  is  an  eastern  expression,  which 
signifies  to  take  no  step  without  first  delibe- 
rately examining  it.  The  metaphor  of  the 
text  being  thus  reduced  to  truth,  another  doubt 


arises  concerning  the  subject,  to  which  it  is 
applied,  and  this  requires  a  second  elucidation. 
The  term  step  is  usually  restrained  in  our  lan- 
guage to  actions  of  life,  and  never  signifies  a 
mode  of  tliinking;  but  the  Hebrew  language 
gives  this  term  a  wider  extent,  and  it  includes 
all  these  ideas.  One  example  shall  suffice. 
"  My  steps  had  well  nigh  slipped,"  Ps.  Ixxiii. 
2,  tiiat  is  to  say,  1  was  very  near  taking  a  false 
step;  and  what  was  this  step?  It  was  judging 
that  the  wicked  were  happier  in  the  practice 
of  licentiousness,  than  the  righteous  in  obeying 
the  laws  of  truth  and  virtue.  Solomon,  in  the 
words  of  my  text,  particularly  intends  to  regu- 
late our  actions;  and  in  order  to  this  he  intends 
to  regulate  the  principles  of  our  minds,  and  the 
affections  of  our  hearts.  "  Ponder  the  path  of 
thy  feet,  and  all  thy  ways  shall  be  established," 
for  so  I  render  the  words.  Examine  your  steps 
deliberately  before  you  take  them,  and  you 
will  take  only  wise  steps;  if  you  would  judge 
rightly  of  objects,  avoid  hasty  judging;  before 
you  fix  your  affection  on  an  object,  examine 
whether  it  be  worthy  of  your  esteem,  and  then 
you  will  love  nothing  but  what  is  lovely.  By 
thus  following  the  ideas  of  the  Wise  Man,  we 
will  assort  our  reflections  with  the  actions  of 
your  lives,  and  they  will  regard  also,  some- 
times the  emotions  of  your  hearts,  and  the 
operations  of  your  minds. 

We  must  beg  leave  to  add  a  third  elucida- 
tion. The  maxim  in  the  text  is  not  always 
practicable.  I  mean,  there  are  some  doctrines, 
and  some  cases  of  conscience,  which  we  cannot 
fully  examine  without  coming  to  a  conclusion, 
that  the  arguments  for,  and  the  arguments 
against  them,  are  of  equal  weight,  and  conse- 
quently, that  we  must  conclude  without  a  con- 
clusion; weigh  the  one  against  the  other,  and 
the  balance  will  incline  neither  way. 

This  difficulty,  however,  solves  itself;  for, 
after  I  have  weighed,  with  all  the  exactness  of 
which  I  am  capable,  two  opposite  propositions, 
and  can  find  no  reasons  sufficient  to  determine 
my  judgment,  the  i)art  I  ought  to  take  is  not 
to  determine  at  all.  Are  you  prejudiced  in 
favour  of  an  opinion,  so  ill  suited  to  the  limits 
which  it  has  pleased  God  to  set  to  our  know- 
ledge, that  it  is  dangerous  or  criminal  to  sus- 
pend our  judgments!  Are  your  consciences  so 
weak  and  scrujjulous  as  to  hesitate  in  some 
cases  to  say,  1  do  not  know,  I  have  not  deter- 
mined tiiat  question?  Poor  men!  do  you  know 
yourselves  so  little?  Poor  Christians!  will  j'ou 
ahva_vs  form  such  false  ideas  of  your  legislator? 
And  do  you  not  know  that  none  but  such  as 
live  perpetualh'  disputing  in  the  schools  make 
it  a  law  to  answer  every  thing?    Do  you  not 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY. 


[Ser.  LH. 


know,  that  one  principal  cause  of  that  fury, 
which  erected  scaffolds,  and  Hghted  fires  in  the 
churcl),   that  ought   to  breathe   nothing  but 
peace  and  love,  was  a  rash  decision  of  some 
questions  which  it  was  impossible  for  sensible 
men  to  determine»     Are  you  not  aware  that 
one  of  the  most  odious  ideas  that  can  be  formed 
of  God,  one  the  least  compatible  with  the  emi- 
nence of  his  perfections,  is,  that  God  requires 
of  us  knowledge  beyond  the  faculties  he  has 
given  us?     1  declare   I   cannot  help  blushing 
for  Christians,   and   especially  for  (;hristians 
cultivated  as  you  are,  when  1  perceive  it  need- 
ful to  repeai  this  principle,  and  even  to  use 
precaution,  and  to  weigh  the  terms  in  which 
we  propose  jt,  lest  we  should  oft'end  them.    'J'o 
what  then  are  we  reduced.  Great  God,  if  we 
have  the  least  reason  to  suspect  that  thou  wilt 
require   an  a£count,  not  only  of  the  talents 
which  it  has  pleased  thee  to  commit  to  us?  To 
what  am  I  reduced,  if,  having  only  received  of 
thee,  my  Creator,  a  human  intelligence,  thou 
wilt  requ^fl  of  me   angelical   attainments? — 
Whither  ara  I  driven,  if,  having  received  a  body 
capable  of  moving  only  through  a  certain  space 
in  a  given  Itime,  thou  Lord,   requirest  me  to 
move  with  the  velocity  of  aerial  bodies?     At 
this  rate,  when  thou  in  the  last  great  day  shalt 
judge  the  world  in  righteousness,  thou.  Judge 
of  the  whole  earth,  wilt  condemn  me  for  not 
preftclung  the  gospel  in  Persia,  the  same  day 
and  the  same  hour  in  which  i  was  preaching 
it  in  this  assembly!     Far  from  us  be  such  de- 
tectable opinions!     Let  us  adhere  to  the  senti- 
ments of  St.  Paul,  God  siiall  judge  the  Gentile 
according  to  what  he  has  conuniltod  to  the 
Gentile;    the  Jew  according  to  what  he  has 
committed  to  the  Jew;  the  Christian  according 
to  what  he  has  committed  to  the   Christian, 
Thus  Jesus  Christ,  "  Unto  whomsoever  much 
is  given,  of  him  much  shall  be  required;  and  to 
whom  men  have  commilled  much,  of  him  they 
will  ask  the  more,"  Luke  xii.  48.    Thus  again 
Jesus  Christ  teaches  us,  tliat  God  will  require 
an  account  of  five  talents  of  him  to  whom  he 
gave  five  talents,  of  two  talents  ol'liim  to  vvliom 
he  gave  two,  and  of  one  only  of  him  to  whom 
he  gave  but  one.     What  did  our    lledeeincr 
mean  when  he  put  into  llie  mouth  of  the  wicked 
servant  this  abominable  prele:st  for  neglecting 
to  im|)rove  his  Lord's  talent'     "  Lord,  1  knew 
thee  that  thou  art  a  hard  man,"  or,  as  it  may 
be  better  translated,  a  barbarous  man,  "  reaping 
where  thou  hast  not  soyvn,  and  gatheriug  wliere 
thou  hasl  notstravved."     1  return   l«  iny  sul)- 
ject.     When  we  have  examiued  two  cun)ra- 
dictory  doctrines,  and   can  obtain  no  re:usons 
suthcient  to  determine  our  judgment,  our  pro- 
per part   is,  to  suspend  our  judgment  of  the 
subject,  and  not  to  determine  it  at  all. 

li  will  be  said,  that,  if  this  he  pos.siblo  in 
regard  to  spéculative  points,  it  is  n(jl  applicable 
to"matters  of  pracliiT.  Why  not'  Such  cases 
of  couscionco  as  are  the  most  embarrassing  are 
precisely  those  which  ought  to  give  us  the 
lexsl  trouble.  This  proposition  njay  appear  a 
parado.x,  but  I  think  1  <Nin  explain  and  prove 
it.  1  ciimpare  r;i.ses  of  conscience  with  points 
of  Hpeciilalion;  dilficult  ciuses  of  conscience?  with 
such  spéculative  points  as  wo  just  now  men- 
liuned.  Tiie  most  ditUcult  points  of  specula- 
tion ought  to  givii  us  the  least  concern;  1  njeau. 


we  ought  to  be  persuaded  that  ignorance  on 
these  subjects  cannot  be  dangerous.  The 
reason  is  i)lain:  if  God  intended  we  should 
see  these  truths  in  their  full  depth  and  clear- 
ness, he  would  not  have  involved  them  in  so 
nmch  oliscurity,  or  he  would  have  given  us 
greater  abilities,  and  greater  assistances,  to 
enable  us  to  form  adequate  and  perfect  ideas 
of  them.  In  like  manner,  in  regard  to  cases 
of  conscience,  attended  with  insurmountable 
difiiculties,  if  our  salvation  depended  on  the 
side  wo  take  in  regard  to  them,  God  would 
have  revealed  more  clearly  what  side  we  ought 
to  take.  In  such  cases  as  these,  intention 
supplies  the  place  of  knowledge,  and  proba- 
bility that  of  demonstration. 

So  much  for  clearing  the  meaning  of  the 
Wise  Man;  now  let  us  put  his  doctrine  to 
proof.  "  Ponder  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  all 
thy  ways  shall  be  established."  Wouldst  thou 
take  only  sure  steps,  at  least  as  sure  as  is  pos- 
sible in  a  world  where  "  in  many  things  wc 
offend  all,"  weigh  all  the  actions  you  intend 
to  perform  first  with  the  principle  from  which 
they  proceed;  then  with  tlie  circumstances  in 
which  you  are  at  the  time;  ne.xt  with  the  man- 
ner in  which  you  perform  them;  again  with 
the  bounds  which  restrain  them;  afterward 
with  those  degrees  o^  virtue  and  knowledge  at 
which  you  arc  arrived;  and  lastly,  with  the 
dirterent  judgments  which  you  yourself  form 
concerning  them. 

I.  An  action  good  in  itself  may  become 
criminal,  if  it  proceed  from  a  bad  principle. 

II.  An  action  good  in  itself  may  become 
criminal,  if  it  be  performed  in  certain  circum- 
stances. 

III.  An  action  good  in  itself  may  become 
criminal  by  the  manner  in  which  it  is  per- 
formed. 

IV.  An  action  good  in  itself  may  become 
criminal  by  being  extended  beyond  its  just 
limits. 

V.  An  action  good  in  itself,  when  performed 
by  a  man  of  a  certain  degree  of  knowledge 
and  virtue,  may  become  criminal,  if  it  be  per- 
formed by  a  man  of  inferior  knowledge  and 
virtue. 

VI.  In  fine,  an  action  good  in  itself  now, 
may  become  criminal  at  anotlier  time. 

These  maxims  ought  to  be  explained  and 
enforced;  and  liere  we  are  going,  as  1  said  at 
fii^t,  to  apjily  tlie  doctrine  of  the  Wise  Man  to 
a  few  subjects,  leaving  to  your  piety  the  care 
of  applying  tliem  to  a  great  number,  whicii 
will  necessarily  occur  in  tlio  course  of  your 
lives. 

1.  We  ought  to  ponder  our  steps  in  regard 
to  the  princi}de  from  which  they  proceed.  An 
action  good  in  itself  may  becunie  criminal,  if 
it  proceed  from  a  bad  principle.  Tiie  little 
attention  we  pay  to  this  inaxim  is  one  principal 
cause  of  tlio  false  judgments  we  make  of  our- 
selvts.  Thus  many,  who  allow  themselves 
very  expensive  lujcuries,  say,  they  contribute 
to  the  iucrca.sc  of  trade.  To  increase  trade, 
and  to  employ  artists,  considered  in  them- 
selves, are  good  works  1  grant;  but  is  it  a 
desire  of  doing  these  good  works  that  animates 
you?  Is  it  not  your  vanity?  Is  it  not  your 
luxury?  Is  it  not  your  desire  of  sparkling  and 
shining  in  tlio  world? 


Ser.  lu.] 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY. 


Thus  our  brethren,  who  resist  all  the  exhor- 
tations that  have  been  addressed  to  them  for 
many  years,  to  engage  thorn  to  follow  Jesus 
Christ  "  without  the  camp,"  reply,  that  were 
they  to  obey  tliese  exhortations,  all  the  seeds 
of  truth  now  remaining  in  the  land  of  their 
nativity  would  perish,  and  tiiat  the  remnants 
of  the  reformation  would  be  entirely  extirpated. 
Diligently  to  preserve  oven  remnants  of  the 
reformation,  and  seeds  of  truth,  is  certainly  an 
action  good  in  itself;  hut  is  this  the  motive 
which  animates  you  when  you  resist  all  our 
exhortations?  Is  it  not  love  of  the  present 
world?  Is  it  not  the  same  motive  that  ani- 
mated Demas?  Is  it  not  because  you  have 
neither  courage  enough  to  sacrifice  for  Jesus 
Christ  what  he  requires,  nor  zeal  enough  to 
profess  your  religion  at  the  expense  of  your 
fortunes  and  dignities?  Thus  again  they  wiio 
are  immersed  in  worldly  care  tell  us,  that  were 
they  to  think  much  about  dying,  society  could 
not  subsist,  arts  would  languish,  sciences  de- 
cay, and  so  on.  I  deny  this  principle.  I  affirm, 
society  would  bo  incomparably  more  flourish- 
ing were  each  member  of  it  to  think  continu- 
ally of  death.  In  such  a  case  each  would  con- 
sult his  own  ability,  before  he  determined  what 
employment  he  would  follow,  and  then  we 
should  see  none  elected  to  public  offices  except 
such  as  were  capable  of  discliarging  them;  we 
should  see  the  gospel  preached  only  by  such  as 
have  abilities  for  preaching;  we  should  see  ar- 
mies commanded  only  by  men  of  experience, 
and  who  possessed  that  superiority  of  genius 
which  is  necessary  to  conjmand  them.  Then 
the  magistrate,  having  always  death  and  judg- 
ment before  his  eyes,  would  think  only  of  the 
public  good.  Then  the  judge,  having  his  eye 
fixed  only  on  the  Judge  of  all  mankind,  would 
regard  the  sacred  trust  committed  to  him,  and 
would  not  consider  his  rank  only  as  an  oppor- 
tunity of  making  his  family,  accumulating 
riches,  and  behaving  witii  arrogance.  Tlien 
the  pastor,  all  taken  up  with  the  duties  of  that 
important  ministry  which  God  has  committed 
to  him,  would  exercise  it  only  to  comfort  the 
atllicted,  to  visit  the  sick,  to  repress  vice,  to 
advance  the  kingdom  of  that  Jesus  wliose  min- 
ister he  has  the  honour  to  be,  and  not  officious- 
ly to  intrude  into  fivmilies  to  direct  them,  to 
tyrannize  over  consciences,  to  make  a  parade 
of  gifts,  and  to  keep  alive  a  spirit  of  party. 

liut,  not  to  carry  these  reflections  any  fur- 
ther, you  say,  society  could  not  subsist,  sciences 
would  languish,  and  arts  decay,  if  men  thouglit 
much  about  dying.  Very  well.  I  agree.  But 
I  ask,  is  this  the  motive  which  inimates  you 
when  you  turn  away  your  ejes  from  this 
object?  Is  it  fear  lest  the  arts  should  decay, 
science  languish,  society  disperse?  Is  it  this 
fear  which  keeps  you  from  thinking  of  death? 
Is  it  not  rather  because  an  idea  of  this  "  king 
of  terrors"  disconcerts  the  whole  system  of 
your  conscience,  stupified  by  a  long  habit  of 
sin;  because  it  urges  you  to  restore  that  ac- 
cursed acquisition,  which  is  the  fund  that  sup- 
ports your  pageantry  and  pride;  because  it  re- 
quires you  to  renounce  that  criminal  intrigue 
which  makes  the  conversation  of  all  compa- 
nies, and  gives  just  oSence  to  all  good  men? 

My  brethren,  would  you  always  take  right 
steps?    Never  take  one  without  ârst  examin- 


ing the  motive  which  engages  you  to  take  it. 
Let  tiie  glory  of  God  bo  the  great  end  of  all 
our  actions;  "  whether  wo  eat  or  drink,  or 
whatsoever  we  do,  let  us  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God,"  1  Cor.  X.  31.  A  motive  so  noble  and 
so  wortliy  of  that  holy  calling  with  which  God 
has  honoured  us,  will  sanctify  all  our  steps, 
will  give  worth  to  our  virtues,  and  will  raise 
those  into  virtuous  actions,  wliich  seem  to 
have  the  least  connexion  with  virtue.  A  bust- 
ling trjide,  a  sprightly  conversation,  a  well- 
matohed  union,  a  sober  recreation,  a  domestic 
amusement,  all  become  virtues  in  a  man  ani- 
mated with  the  glory  of  God;  on  the  contrary, 
virtue  itself,  the  most  ardent  zeal  for  truth, 
the  most  generous  charities,  the  most  fervent 
prayers,  knowledge  the  most  profound,  and 
sacrifices  the  least  suspicious,  become  vices  in 
a  man  not  animated  with  this  motive. 

II.  Let  us  ponder  our  steps  in  regard  to  the 
circumstances  which  accompany  them.  An 
action,  good  or  innocent  in  itself,  may  become 
criminal  in  certain  circumstances.  Tiiis  maxim 
is  a  clue  to  many  ceases  of  conscience,  in  which 
we  choose  to  blind  ourselves.  We  obstinately 
consider  our  actions  in  a  certain  abstracted 
liglit,  never  realized,  and  we  do  not  attend  to 
circumstances  which  cliange  the  nature  of  tlie 
action.  We  think  we  strike  a  casuist  dumb, 
when  we  ask  him,  what  is  there  criminal  in 
the  action  you  reprove?  Hear  the  morality  of 
the  inspired  writers. 

It  is  allowable  to  attach  ourselves  to  a  pious 
prince,  and  to  push  for  port.  Yet  when  Bar- 
zillai  had  arrived  at  a  certain  age,  he  thought 
it  his  duty  to  flee  from  court,  and  to  quit  his 
prince,  and  he  said  to  David,  who  invited  him 
to  court,  "  I  am  this  day  fourscore  years  old, 
and  can  I  discern  between  good  and  evil?  Can 
thy  servant  taste  what  I  eat,  or  what  I  drink? 
Can  1  hear  any  more  the  voice  of  singing  men, 
and  singing  women?  Let  thy  servant,  I  pray 
tiiee,  turn  back  again,  that  I  may  die  in  mine 
own  city,  and  be  buried  ijy  tiie  grave  of  my 
father  and  of  my  mother,"  2  Sam.  six.  35.  37. 
It  is  allowable  to  erect  houses  proportional 
to  our  fortunes  and  rank.  Yet  the  buildings 
of  the  Israelites  drew  upon  them  the  most 
mortifying  censures,  and  the  most  rigourous 
niiastisements,  after  their  return  from  captivity. 
Tliis  was,  because,  while  their  minds  were  all 
employed  about  their  own  edifices,  they  took 
no  thought  about  rebuilding  the  temple.  "  Is 
it  time  for  you,"  said  tlie  propliet  Haggai,  "  Is 
it  time  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell  in  your  ceiled 
houses,  and  this  house  lie  waste?"  chap.  i.  4. 

It  is  allowable,  sometimes,  to  join  in  good 
company,  and  to  taste  tiie  pleasures  of  the 
table  and  society;  yet  Isaiah  reproached  the 
Jews  of  his  time  in  the  most  cutting  manner, 
for  giving  themselves  up  to  these  pleasures,  at 
a  time  when  recent  crimes,  and  approaching 
calamities  should  have  engaged  them  to  acts 
of  repentance.  "  In  that  day  did  the  Lord 
God  of  hosts  call  to  weeping,  and  to  mourn- 
ing, and  to  baldness,  and  to  girding  with  sack- 
clotli;  and  beliold,  joy  and  gladness,  slaying 
oxen,  and  killing  sheep,  eating  flesh,  and  drink- 
ing wine.  And  it  w-as  revealed  in  mine  ears 
by  the  Lord  of  hosts;  surely  this  inif|uity  shall 
not  be  purged  froni  you  till  ye  die,  saith  the 
Lord  God  of  hosts,"  Isa.  xxii.  12,  &c. 


6 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY. 


[Ser.  lit. 


It  is  allowable  to  cat  any  thing,  without  re- 
gard to  tlio  Levitical  law.  Yot  .St.  Paul  de- 
clares, "  If  meat  make  my  brother  to  olVcnd,  I 
will  eat  no  flesh  while  the  world  slandeth,"  1 
Cor.  viii.  13. 

How  many  circumstances  of  this  kind  might 
I  add?  Let  us  retain  what  wo  have  heard,  and 
let  us  make  these  the  basis  of  a  few  maxims. 

The  ca.se  of  scandal  is  a  circumstance  which 
makes  a  lawful  action  criminal.  I  infer  tliis 
from  the  example  of  St.  Paul  just  now  men- 
tioned. What  is  scandal?  Of  many  defini- 
tions I  confine  myself  to  one. 

A  scandalous  or  offensive  action  is  that 
which  must  -naturally  make  a  spectator  of  it 
commit  a  fault.  By  this  touchstone  examine 
some  actions,  which  you  think  allowable,  be- 
cause you  consider  them  in  tiiemselves,  and 
you  will  soon  perceive  that  you  ouijlit  to  ab- 
stain from  tiiem.  By  this  rule,  it  is  not  a  ques- 
tion only,  when  it  is  agitated  as  a  case  of  con- 
science. Is  gaming  criminal  or  innocent?  The 
question  is^not  only,  what  gaming  is  to  you, 
who  can  afford  to  play  witliout  injuring  your 
family  or  fortune;  the  question  is,  whether  you 
ought  to  engage  another  to  play  with  you, 
wIk)  will  ruin  his.  When  a  case  of  conscience 
is  made  of  this  question — Can  I,  without 
wounding  my  innocence,  allow  myself  certain 
freedoms  in  conversatioa'  The  question  is  not 
only  whether  you  can  permit  yourself  to  do  so 
without  defiling  your  innocence,  but  wlielher 
you  can  do  so  without  wounding  tlic  innocence 
of  your  neighbour,  who  will  infer  from  tlie  lib- 
erties you  take,  that  you  have  no  regard  to 
modesty,  and  who  perhaps  may  avail  himself 
of  the  license  you  give  him. 

Another  circumstance,  which  makes  a  law- 
ful action  criminal,  is  taken  from  the  passage 
of  Isaiah  just  now  mentioned.  I  fear  suppress 
ing  a  sense  of  present  sins  and  of  approaching 
calamities.  I  wish,  when  we  have  had  the 
weakness  to  commit  such  sins  as  suspend  the 
commimion  of  a  soul  with  its  God,  1  wisli  we 
had  the  wisdom  to  lay  aside  for  some  time,  not 
only  criminal,  but  even  lawful  pleasures.  1 
wish,  instead  of  going  into  company,  even  the 
most  regular,  we  had  tiie  wisdom  to  retire.  I 
wish,  instead  of  relisliing  tiien  the  most  lawful 
recreations,  we  had  the  wisdom  to  mourn  for 
our  offending  a  God  whose  law  ought  to  bo 
extremely  respected  by  us.  To  take  the  oppo- 
site course  tiien,  to  allow  one's  self  pleasure, 
innocent  indeed  in  hap])ier  times,  is  to  discover 
very  little  sense  of  that  (Jod  whoso  commands 
we  have  just  now  violated;  it  is  to  discover 
that  we  have  very  little  regard  for  our  siilva- 
tiim,  at  a  time  when  we  have  so  many  just 
causes  of  doul)ling  whether  our  hope  to  be 
saved  be  well-grounded. 

The  utllicted  stale  of  the  church  is  another 
circumstance,  which  may  make  an  innocent 
action  criminal:  So  I  conclude,  from  the  ])as- 
Hafe  just  now  (pioted  from  llaggai.  l)is.-jipa- 
tions,  amusements,  f(!stivals,  ill  t)ecome  men, 
who  ought  to  bo  "grieved  for  the  atHictions 
of  Joseph;"  or,  to  speak  more  clearly,  less  still 
liecome  miserable  people  whom  the  wrath  of 
(Jod  pursiu^s,  and  who,  being  lliem.><elvcs  "  as 
firebrands"  iiardly  "  plucked  out  of  the  burn- 
ing," are  yet  exposed  to  tiie  liâmes  of  tribula- 
tion, one  in  the  person  of  his  father,  another 


in  those  of  his  children,  and  all  in  a  million 
of  their  brethren. 

Affc,  again,  is  another  circumstance  con- 
verting an  innocent  to  a  criminal  action.  This 

1  conclude  from  the  example  of  Bar/illal.  I^t 
a  yoimg  man,  just  entering  into  trade,  be  all 
attention  and  diligence  to  make  his  fortune; 
he  should  be  so:  but  that  an  old  man,  that  a 
man  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  who  has 
already  attained  the  age  which  God  has  mark- 
ed for  the  life  of  man,  that  such  a  man  should 
bo  all  fire  and  ilame  for  the  success  of  his  trade, 
just  as  he  was  the  first  day  he  entered  on  it; 
that  he  should,  so  to  speak,  direct  his  last  sigh 
towards  money  and  the  increa.se  of  his  trade, 
is  the  shame  of  human  nature;  it  is  a  mark  of  re- 
probation, which  ougiit  to  alarm  all  that  bear  it. 

Let  a  young  man  in  the  heat  of  his  blood,  a 
youth  yet  a  novice  in  the  world,  and  who  may 
promise  himself,  witli  some  appearance  of 
truth,  to  live  a  few  years  in  the  world,  some- 
times lay  aside  that  gravity,  which,  however, 
so  well  becomes  men  whose  eyes  are  fixed  on 
the  great  objects  of  religion;  let  him,  I  s.ay,  I 
forgive  him;  but  that  an  old  man,  whom  long 
experience  should  have  rendered  wise,  that  he 
should  be  fond  of  pleasure,  that  he  should 
make  a  serious  affair  of  distinguishing  himself 
by  the  elegance  of  his  table,  that  he  should  go 
every  day  to  carry  his  skeleton,  wan  and  tot- 
tering, into  company  employed  in  the  amuse- 
ments of  youth;  this  is  the  shame  of  human 
nature,  this  is  a  mark  of  reprobation,  which 
ought  to  terrify  all  that  bear  it. 

III.  Would  we  have  all  our  waj-s  establish- 
ed? Let  us  examine  tlie  manners  that  accom- 
pany them.  An  action  good  in  it.'îelf,  yea, 
more,  the  most  essential  duties  of  religion  be- 
come criminal,  when  they  are  not  performed 
with  proper  dispositions.  One  of  the  most  es- 
sential duties  of  religion  is  to  assist  the  poor; 
yet  thit  duty  will  become  a  crime,  if  it  be  per- 
formed with  haughtiness,  hardness,  and  con- 
straint. It  is  not  enough  to  assist  the  poor;  the 
duty  must  be  done  with  such  circumspection, 
humanity,  and  joy,  as  the  apostle  speaks  of, 
when  he  says,  "  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver," 

2  Cor.  ix.  7.  Another  most  essential  duty  of 
religion  is  to  interest  one's  self  in  the  happi- 
ness of  our  neio-hbour;  and  if  he  turn  aside 
from  the  path  of  salvation,  to  bring  him  back 
again.  "Thou  shalt  in  anywise  rebuke  thy 
neighbour,  and  not  suflcr  sin  upon  him:"  thus 
God  spoke  by  his  servant  Moses,  Lev.  xix.  17. 
"  Exhort  one  another  daily:"  this  is  a  precept 
of  St.  Paul,  llei).  iii.  13.  To  this  may  be  add- 
end the  decla-ation  of  St.  James:  "  If  any  of 
vou  do  err  from  the  truth,  and  one  convert 
liiin,  let  him  know,  that  he  which  convertoth 
the  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  save 
a  soul  from  death,  and  hide  a  nniltitude  of 
sins,"  chap.  v.  19,  JO.  But  this  duly  would 
become  a  crime,  were  we  to  rebuke  a  neigh- 
bour with  billerncss,  were  the  reproof  more 
satire  than  exhortation,  were  we  to  assmne  airs 
of  haughlincs.s  and  discover  that  we  intended 
less  lo  censure  the  vices  of  others,  than  to  dis- 
play our  own  imaginary  excellencies.  It  is 
not  enough  lo  rebuke  a  neighbour;  it  must  be 
done  with  all  those  charitable  concomitants, 
which  arc  so  proi)er  to  make  the  most  bitter 
censures  palatable;  it  must  bo  doJie  with  that 


ser.  lu.] 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY^. 


modesty,  or,  may  I  say,  witli  that  bashfulness 
which  proves  that  it  is  not  a  spirit  of  self-sutU- 
ciency  that  reproves  our  nciijhbour,  but  tiiat  it 
is  because  wo  interest  ourselves  in  Iiis  happi- 
ness, and  are  jealous  of  his  glory,  t 

IV.  Our  fourth  maxim  is,  that  an  action 
good  in  itself  may  become  criminal  by  being 
extended  beyond  its  proper  limits.  It  was  said 
of  a  fine  genius  of  the  last  ago,  that  ho  never 
quitted  a  beautiful  thought  till  he  had  entirely 
disfigured  it.  The  observation  was  perfectly 
just  in  regard  to  the  autlior  to  whom  it  was 
applied;  the  impetuosity  of  his  imagination 
made  him  overstrain  the  most  .sensible  things 
ho  advanced,  so  that  what  was  trutli,  when  he 
began  to  propose  it,  became  an  error  in  his 
mouth  by  the  extreme  to  which  ho  carried  it. 
In  like  manner,  in  regard  to  a  certain  order  of 
Christians,  virtue  becomes  vice  in  their  prac- 
tice, because  they  extend  it  beyond  proper 
bounds.  Their  holiness  ouglit  always  to  be 
restrained,  and  after  they  have  been  exhorted 
to  righteousness  and  wisdom,  it  is  necessary  to 
say  to  them  with  the  Wise  Man,  "lîo  not 
righteous  overmuch,  neither  make  thyself  over- 
wise,"  Eccles.  vii.  17;  an  idea  adopted  by  St. 
Paul,  Rom.  xii.  3. 

"  Bo  not  righteous  overmuch,  neither  make 
thyself  over-wise"  in  regard  to  the  mysteries 
of  religion.  As  people  sometimes  lose  their 
lives  by  diving,  so  sometimes  people  become 
unbelievers  by  believing  too  much.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  see  Christians  so  eager  to  eluci- 
date the  difficulties  of  the  book  of  Revelation, 
as  not  to  perceive  clearly  the  doctrine  of  evan- 
gelical morality. 

"  Be  not  righteous  overmuch,  neither  make 
thyself  over-wise"  in  regard  to  charjty.  The 
laws  of  equity  march  before  those  of  charity; 
or  rather,  the  laws  of  charity  are  founded  on 
those  of  equity.  To  neglect  to  support  a 
family  and  to  satisfy  creditors,  under  pretence 
of  relieving  the  poor,  is  not  charity,  and  giving 
alms;  but  it  is  rapine,  robbery,  and  iniquity. 

"  Be  not  righteous  overmuch,  neither  make 
thyself  over-wise"  in  regard  to  closet  devotion. 
So  to  give  one's  self  up  to  the  devotion  of  the 
closet,  as  to  lose  sight  of  what  we  owe  to 
society;  to  be  so  delighted  with  praying  to  God 
as  not  to  hear  the  petitions  of  the  indigent;  to 
devote  so  much  time  to  meditation  as  to  reserve 
none  for  an  ojjpressed  person  who  requires  our 
assistance,  for  a  widow  who  beseeches  us  to 
pity  the  cries  of  her  hungry  children;  this  is 
not  piety,  this  is  vision,  this  is  enthusiasm,  this 
is  sophism  of  zeal,  if  I  may  express  myself  so. 
"  Be  not  righteous  overmuch,  neither  make 
thyself  over-wise"  in  regard  to  distrusting 
yourselves,  and  fearing  the  judgments  of  God. 
I  know,  the  greatest  saints  have  reason  to 
tremble,  when  they  consider  themselves  in 
some  points  of  light.  I  know  Jobs  and  Davids 
have  exclaimed,  "  If  I  should  justify  myself, 
mine  own  mouth  shall  condemn  me.  If  thou. 
Lord,  shouldst  mark  iniquities,  O  Lord,  who 
shall  stand?"  Job  ix.  20;  Ps.  cxxx.  3.  I  know, 
one  of  tlie  most  powerful  motives  which  the 
inspired  writers  have  used,  to  animate  the 
hearts  of  men  with  piety,  is  fear,  according  to 
this  exclamation  of  Solomon,  "  Happy  is  the 


the  terror  of  the  Lord,  we  persuade  men,"  2 
(^or.  V.  11.  I  know,  the  surest  method  to 
strengthen  our  virtue  is  to  distrust  ourselves, 
according  to  this  expression.  "  Let  him  that 
tiiinketli  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall,"  1 
Cor.  x.   12. 

However,  it  is  certain,  some  fears  of  God 
jiroceed  rather  from  the  irregularity  of  tlie 
imagination,  than  from  a  wise  and  Well  direct- 
ed j)iety.  Fear  of  the  judgment  of  God  is 
sometimes  a  passion,  which  has  this  in  common 
with  all  other  passions,  it  loves  lo  employ  itself 
about  what  favours,  cherishes,  and  supports  it; 
it  is  reluctant  to  approach  what  would  dimin- 
ish, defeat,  and  destroy  it.  Extremes  of  vice 
touch  extremes  of  virtue,  so  that  we  have  no 
sooner  passed  over  the  bounds  of  virtue,  than 
we  are  entangled  in  the  irregularities  of  vice. 

V.  Wo   said  in  tiio   fifth  place,  that  each 
ought  to  ponder  his  path  with  regard  to  that 
degree  of  holiness  at  which  the  mercy  of  God 
has  enabled  him  to  arrive.     An  action  good 
in  itself  when  it  is  performed  by  a  man  arriv- 
ed at  a  certain  degree  of  holiness,  becomea 
criminal,  when  it  is  done  by  him  who  has  only 
an  inferior  degree.     There  never  was  an  opin- 
ion  more   absurd   and   more  dangerous  tiian 
that  of  some  mystics,  known  by  the  name  of 
Molinists.     They  aifirmed,  that  when  the  soul 
was  lodged  at  I  know  not  what  distance  from 
the  body;   that  when  it  was  in,  I  know  not 
what  state  vhich  they  called  abandonment^  it 
partook  no  more  of  the  irregularities  of  the 
body  which  it  animated,  so  that  the  most  im- 
pure actions  of  the  body  could  not  defile  it,  be- 
cause it  knew  how  to  detach  itself  from  the  body. 
What  kind  of  extravagance  can  one  ima- 
gine, of  which  poor  mankind  hath  not  given 
an  example?     Yet  the  apostle  determines  this 
point  with  so  much  precision,  that  one  would 
think  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  it.     "  Unto 
the  pure,  all  things  are  pure;  but  unto  them 
that   are  defiled  and    unbelieving,  nothing  is 
pure,"  Titus  i.  15.    I  recollect  the  sense  which 
a  celebrated  bishop  in  the  isle  of  Cyprus  gave 
these  words  in  the  first  ages  of  the  church.     I 
speak   of   Spiridion.     A   traveller,  exhausted 
with  the  fatigue  of  his  journey,  waited  on  him 
on  a  day  wliicli  the  church  had  set  apart  for 
fasting.     Spiridion  instantly  ordered  some  re- 
freshment for  him,  and  invited  him  by  his  own 
example  to  eat.     No,  I  must  not  eat,  said  the 
stranger,  because  I  am  a  Christian.     And  be- 
cause you  are  a  Christian,  replied  the  bishop 
to  him,  you  may  eat  without  scruple;  agreea- 
bly to  the  decision  of  an  apostle,  "  Unto  the 
pure  all  things  are  pure."     We  cannot  be  ig- 
norant of  the  sharaefiil  abuse  whiA  some  have 
made  of  this  maxim.     We  know  some  have 
extended  it  even  to  the  most  essential  articles 
of  positive  law,  which  no  one  can  violate  with- 
out sin.     We  know  particularly  the  insolence 
with  which  some  place  themselves  in  the  list 
of  those  pure  persons,  of  whom  the  apostle 
speaks,   although  their   gross   ignorance   and 
iiovel  divinity  may  justly  place  them  in  the  op- 
posite class.     But  the  abuse  of  a  maxim  ought 
not  to  prevent  the  lawful  use  of  it.    There  arc 
some  things  which  are  criminal  or  lawful,  ac- 
cording to  the  degree  of  knowledge  and  holi 


man  that  feareth  alway,"  Prov.  xxviii.  14;  and    ness  of  him  who  performs  them.     "  Unto  the 
according  to  this  idea  of  St.  Paul,  "  Knowing    pure  all  things  are  pure;  but  unto  them  that 


8 


CHRISTIAN  CASUISTRY. 


[Ser.  UI. 


are  defiled  and  unbelieving,  nothing  is  ])urc." 
Would  you  then  know  how  far  to  carry  your 
scruples  in  regard  to  some  steps?  P'xamino 
sincerely,  and  with  rectitude,  to  what  degree 
you  are  pure  in  tliis  res[)ect.  I  mean,  exam- 
ine sincerely  and  uprightly,  wiiellier  you  be 
so  far  advanced  in  Christianity,  as  not  to  en- 
danger your  faitli  and  lioliness  by  this  step. 

Do  you  inquire  whetlicr  you  may,  without 
scruple,  read  a  work  intended  to  sap  the  foun- 
dation of  Christianity?  Examine  yourself.  A 
man  arrived  at  a  certain  degree  of  know- 
ledge is  confirmed  in  the  faitii,  even  by  the  ob- 
jections which  are  proposed  to  him  to  engage 
him  to  renounce  his  religion.  "  Unto  the  pure 
all  things  are  pure."  If  you  answer  tliis  de- 
scription, read  without  scruple  Lucretius,  Spi- 
noza, and  all  the  otiicr  enemies  of  religion. 
The  darkness  witii  whicii  tiiey  pretend  to  co- 
ver it,  will  only  advance  its  splendour  in  your 
eyes.  Tlie  blows  wiucli  tliey  gave  it,  will 
only  serve  to  convince  you  that  it  is  invulnera- 
ble. But  if  you  be  yet  a  child  in  understand- 
ing, as  an  apostle  speaks,  such  books  may  be 
dangerous  to  you;  poison  witiiout  an  antidote, 
will  convey  itself  into  your  vitals,  and  destroy 
all  the  powers  of  your  soul. 

Would  you  know  whether  you  may,  with- 
out scruple,  mix  with  the  world?  Hxaminc 
yourself  "  Unto  the  pure  all  things  are  pure." 
A  man  arrived  at  a  certain  degree  of  holiness, 
derives,  from  an  intercourse  with  the  world, 
only  pity 'for  the  world.  Examples  of  vice 
serve  only  to  confirm  him  in  virtue.  If  you 
answer  this  description,  go  into  the  world  with- 
out scruple;  but  if  your  virtue  be  yet  weak, 
if  intercourse  with  the  world  disconcert  the 
frame  of  your  mind,  if  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  captivate  your  imagination,  and  leave 
impressions  which  you  cannot  efface;  if,  after 
you  have  passed  a  few  hours  in  the  world, 
you  find  it  follows  you,  even  when  you  wish 
to  get  rid  of  it,  liicn  what  can  you  do  so  pro- 
per as  to  retreat  from  an  enemy  dangerous  to 
virtue?  "  Unto  the  pure  all  things  are  pure; 
but  unto  them  that  are  defiled,  nothing  is 
pure." 

VI.  In  fine,  if  we  wish  our  ways  should  be 
estal)lished,  let  us  weigh  them  with  tiie  difl'er- 
ent  judgments  which  we  ourselves  form  con- 
cerning thcui.  Tiie  meaning  of  tiie  maxims, 
the  substance  of  what  we  daily  hear  in  tiie 
world,  and  which  the  writings  of  libertines 
have  rendered  famous,  that  youth  is  the  sea- 
son for  pleasure,  and  that  we  sliould  make  the 
most  of  it;  that  fit  opportunities  should  not 
be  let  slip, ^because  they  so  seldom  happen, 
and  that  not  to  avail  ourselves  of  them,  would 
discover  ignorance  of  one's  self;  the  substance 
of  this  sophism  (shall  I  say  of  infirmity  or  im- 
piety?) is  not  new.  If  some  of  you  urge  this 
now,  so  did  the  .lews  in  the  time  of  Isaiah. 
This  prophet  was  ordered  to  inform  them,  tliat 
they  had  sinned  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  the 
patience  of  God;  that  there  remained  only 
one  method  of  preventing  tiioir  total  ruin,  tiiat 
was  fasting,  mourning,  baldness,  and  girding 
with  sackcloth;  in  a  word,  exercises  of  lively 
and  genuine  repentance.  These  profane  peo- 
ple, from  the  very  same  principle  on  which  the 
prophet  grounded  the  necessity  of  their  çon- 
vereion,  drew  arguments  to  embolden  them  in 


sin;  they  slew  oxen,  they  killed  sheep,  they 
gave  themselves  up  to  unbridled  intemper- 
ance, and  they  said,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  to-morrow  we  shall  die." 

This  is  precisely  the  maxim  of  our  liber- 
tines. Youth  is  the  season  for  pleasure,  and 
we  should  improve  it;  opportunities  of  enjoy- 
ment arc  rare;  we  should  be  enemies  to  our- 
selves not  to  avail  ourselves  of  them.  Would 
not  one  say,  on  hearing  this  language,  that  an 
old  man,  going  out  of  the  world,  must  needs 
regret  that  he  did  not  give  himself  up  to  plea- 
sure in  his  youth.  VVould  not  one  suppose 
that  the  sick,  in  beds  of  infirmity  and  pain, 
must  needs  reproach  themselves  for  not  spend- 
ing their  health,  and  strength  in  luxury  and 
debauchery?  Would  not  one  imagine,  that 
the  despair  of  the  damned  througli  all  eternity, 
will  proceed  from  their  recollecting  that  they 
checked  their  passions  in  this  world? 

On  the  contrary,  what  will  poison  the  years 
of  your  old  ago,  should  you  arrive  at  it;  what 
will  aggravate  the  pains,  and  envenom  the 
disquietudes  inseparable  from  old  age,  will  be 
the  abuse  you  made  of  your  youth. 

So  in  sickness,  reproaches  and  remorse  will 
rise  out  of  a  recollection  of  crimes  committed 
when  you  was  well,  and  will  change  your 
death-bed  into  an  anticipated  hell.  Then, 
thou  miserable  wretch,  who  makest  thy  belly 
thy  God,  the  remembrance  of  days  and  nights 
consumed  in  drunkenness,  will  aggravate  every 
pain  which  thine  intemperate  life  has  brought 
upon  thee.  Then,  thou  miserable  man,  who 
incessantly  renderest  an  idolatrous  worship  to 
thy  gold,  saying  to  it,  in  acts  of  supreme 
adoration,  "  Thou  art  my  confidence,"  then 
will  the  rust  of  it  be  a  witness  against  thee, 
and  eat  thy  flesh,  as  it  were  with  fire.  Then, 
unhappy  man,  whose  equipages,  retinue,  and 
palaces,  arc  the  fruits  of  oppression  and  in- 
justice, then  "  the  hire  of  the  labourers  which 
have  reaped  down  thy  fields,  which  is  (Jf  thee 
kept  back  by  fraud,  will  cry,  and  the  cries  of 
the  reapers  will  enter  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord 
of  Sabaoth;"  then  "  the  stone  shall  cry  out  of 
the  wall,  and  the  beam  out  of  the  timber  shall 
answer  it."  Then,  miserable  wretch,  thou 
who  makest  "  the  members  of  Christ  the  mem- 
bers of  a  harlot;"  then,  that  Drusilla,  who 
now  fascinates  thine  eyes,  who  seems  to  thee 
to  unite  in  her  person  all  manner  of  accom-- 
plishments;  that  Drusilla  who  makest  thee  for- 
get what  thou  owest  to  the  world  and  the 
church,  to  thy  children,  thy  family,  thy  God, 
and  thy  soul,  that  Drusilla  will  appear  to  thee 
as  tiie  centre  of  all  horrors;  then  she,  who 
always  appeared  to  thee  as  a  goddess,  will  be- 
come as  dreadful  as  a  fiiry;  then,  like  that 
abominable  man,  of  whom  the  holy  Scriptures 
speak,  who  carried  his  brutality  so  far  as  to 
ort'er  violence  to  a  sister,  whoso  honour  ought 
to  have  been  to  him  as  dear  as  his  own  life; 
then  will  "  the  hatred  wherewith  thou  hatest 
her,  be  greater  than  the  love  wherewith  thou 
hadst  loved  her,"  2  Sam.  xiii.  15. 

The  same  in  regard  to  the  damned;  what 
will  give  weight  to  the  chains  of  darkness  with 
whicii  they  will  1k3  loaded,  what  will  augment 
the  voracity  of  tiiat  worm  which  will  devour 
them,  and  the  activity  of  the  flames  which  will 
consume  them  in  a  future  t^tate,  will  be  the 


Ser.  lui.] 


THE  NECESSITY  OF,  &c. 


8 


reproaches  of  their  own  consciences  for  the 
headlong  impetuosity  of  their  passions  in  this 
world. 

My  bretlircn,  the  best  direction  we  can  fol- 
low for  the  establishment  of  our  ways,  is  fre- 
quently to  set  tlie  judgment  wliich  we  shall 
one  day  form  of  them,  against  that  wliich  we 
now  form.  Let  us  often  think  of  our  death- 
bed. Let  us  often  realize  tiiat  terrible  mo- 
ment, which  will  close  time,  and  open  eternity. 
Let  us  often  put  tliis  question  to  ourselves, 
What  judgment  shall  1  form  of  that  kind  of 
life  which  I  now  lead,  when  a  burning  fever 
consumes  my  blood,  when  unsuccessful  reme- 
dies, when  useless  cares,  when  a  j)ale  physician, 
when  a  weeping  family,  when  all  around,  shall 
announce  to  me  the  approach  of  death?  what 
should  1  tiien  think  of  those  continual  dissipa- 
tions which  consume  the  most  of  my  time; 
what  of  those  puerile  amusements,  which  take 
up  all  my  attention;  what  of  these  anxious 
fears,  which  fill  all  the  capacity  of  my  soul; 
what  of  these  criminal  pleasures,  which  infatu- 
ate me?  what  judgment  shall  I  make  of  all  these 
things,  in  that  terrible  day,  when  the  powers 
of  the  heavens  shall  be  shaken,  when  the  foun- 
dations of  the  earth  shall  shake,  when  the 
earth  shall  reel  to  and  fro  like  a  drunkard, 
when  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat, 
when  the  great  white  throne  shall  appear, 
when  the  judge  shall  sit,  and  the  books  be 
opened,  in  which  all  my  actions,  words,  and 
thoughts  are  registered? 

If  we  follow  these  maxims,  we  shall  see  all 
objects  with  new  eyes;  we  shall  tremble  at 
some  ways  wliich  we  now  approve;  we  shall 
discover  gulfs  in  the  road,  in  which  we  walk 
at  present  without  suspicion  of  danger. 

I  said  at  the  beginning,  my  brethren,  and  I 
repeat  it  again,  in  finishing  tiiis  exercise,  the 
text  we  have  been  explaining  includes  a  volu- 
minous subject,  more  proper  to  make  the  mat- 
ter of  a  large  treatise  than  of  a  single  sermon. 
The  reflections,  wliich  we  have  been  making, 
are  only  a  slight  sketch  of  the  maxims  with 
which  the  Wise  Man  intended  to  inspire  us. 
All  we  have  said  will  be  entirely  useless,  un- 
less you  enlarge  by  frequent  meditation  the 
narrow  bounds  in  which  we  have  been  obliged 
to  include  the  subject. 

"  Ponder  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  all  thy 
ways  shall  be  established."  Who  weighs,  who 
calculates,  who  connects  and  separates,  before 
he  believes  and  judges,  before  he  esteems  and 
acts?  The  least  probability  persuades  iis;  the 
least  object,  that  sparkles  in  our  eyes,  dazzles 
us;  the  least  appearance  of  pleasure  excites, 
fascinates,  and  fixes  us.  We  determine  ques- 
tions on  which  our  eternal  destiny  depends, 
with  a  levity  and  precipitancy,  which  we  should 
be  ashamed  of  in  cases  of  the  least  importance 
in  temporal  atfairs.  Accordingly,  the  manner 
in  which  we  act,  perfectly  agrees  with  the  in- 
attention with  which  we  determine  the  reason 
of  acting.  We  generally  spend  life  in  a  way 
very  unbecoming  intelligent  beings,  to  whom 
God  has  given  a  power  of  reflecting:  and  more 
like  creatures  destitute  of  intelligence,  and 
wholly  incapable  of  reflection. 

In  order  to  obey  the  precept  of  the  Wise 
Man,  we   should    collect  our  thoughts  every 
morning,  and   never   begin   a  day   without  a 
Vol.  n. — 2 


cool  examination  of  the  whole  business  of  it. 
We  should  recollect  ourselves  every  night, 
and  never  finish  a  day,  without  examining  de- 
liberately how  wo  have  employed  it.  Before 
we  go  out  of  our  houses,  each  should  ask  him- 
self. Whither  am  I  going?  In  what  company 
shall  I  be?  What  temptations  will  assault  me? 
What  opportunities  of  doing  good  offer  to  me? 
When  we  return  to  our  houses,  each  should 
ask  himself;  Where  have  I  been?  What  has 
my  conversation  in  company  been?  Did  I  avail 
myself  of  every  opportunity  of  doing  good? 

My  brethren,  how  invincible  soever  our  de- 
pravity may  appear,  how  deeply  rooted  soever 
it  may  be,  how  powerful  soever  tyrannical  ha- 
bits may  be  over  us,  we  should  make  rapid 
advances  in  the  road  of  virtue,  were  we  often 
to  enter  into  ourselves;  on  the  contrary,  while 
we  act,  and  determine,  and  give  ourselves  up 
without  reflection  and  examination,  it  is  im- 
possible our  conduct  should  answer  our  calling. 

My  brethren,  shall  I  tell  you  all  my  heart? 
This  meditation  troubles  me,  it  terrifies  me,  it 
confounds  me.  I  have  been  forming  the  most 
ardent  desires  for  the  success  of  this  discourse; 
and  yet  I  can  hardly  entertain  a  hope  that  you 
will  relish  it.  I  have  been  exhorting  you  with 
all  the  power  and  ardour  of  which  I  am  capa- 
ble; and,  if  you  will  forgive  me  for  saying  so, 
with  the  zeal  which  I  ought  to  have  for  your 
salvation;  I  have  been  exhorting  you  not  to  be 
discouraged  at  the  number  and  the  difficulties 
of  the  duties  which  the  Wise  Man  prescribes 
to  you;  but,  I  am  afraid,  I  know  you  too  well 
to  promise  myself  that  you  will  acquit  your- 
selves with  that  holy  resolution  and  courage 
which  the  nature  of  the  duties  necessarily  de- 
mands. 

May  God  work  in  you,  and  in  me,  more 
than  I  can  ask  or  think!  God  grant  us  intelli- 
gent minds,  that  we  may  act  like  intelligent 
souls!  May  that  God,  who  has  set  before  us 
life  and  death,  heaven  and  hell,  boundless  feli- 
city and  endless  misery,  may  he  so  direct  our 
steps,  that  we  may  arrive  at  that  happiness 
which  is  the  object  of  our  wishes,  and  which 
ought  to  be  the  object  of  our  care!  God  grant 
us  this  grace!  To  Him  be  honour  and  glory 
for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LIII. 


THE  NECESSTTY  OF  PROGRESSIVE 
RELIGION. 


1  Corinthians,  ix.  26,  27. 

/  therefore  so  run,  not  as  uncertainly;  so  Jight  Ii 
not  as  one  that  healeth  tlie  air.  But  I  keep 
under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection;  lest 
that,  by  any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to 
others,  I  myself  should  be  a  cast-away. 

Mt  Brethren, 
That  was  a  fine  eulogium,  which  was  made 
on  one  of  the  most  famous  generals  of  ahtiquity . 
It  was  said  of  him,  that  he  thought  there  was 
"  nothing  done,  while  there  remained  any  thing 
to  do."  To  embrace  such  a  system  of  war  and 
])olitic8,  was  to  open  a  wide  field  of  painful 
labour;   but  Cesar  aspired  to  be  a   hero,  and 


10 


THE  NECESSITY  OF 


[Ser.  LUL 


there  was  no  way  of  obtaining  his  end,  except 
that  which   lie   chose.     AVhocver    arrives    at 
worldly  heroism,  arrives  at  it  in  this  way.     Uy 
tins  marvellous  secret,  the  Jtoinan  eajrles  flew 
to  the   utmost  parts  of  Asia,  rendered   Gaul 
tributary,   swelled    the    Rhine   with    German 
hiood,  sulijnirated  J5ritain,  pursued  the  shattered 
remains  of  I'ompey's  army  into  the  deserts  of 
Africa,  and  caused  all  the  rivers  that  fell  into 
till.-  Adriatic  sea,  to  roll  alon;,'  the  sound  of 
llicir  victories.     My  brethren,  success  is  not 
necessarily  connected  with  heroism;  the  hero 
Cesar  was  a  common  )ni>iorluiie,  all  his  hero- 
ism  public  robbery,  fatal   to   the  public,  and 
more  so  to  Cesar  hinisclf.     J5ut,  in  order  to  be 
saved,  it  is  necessary  to  succeed;   and  their  is 
no  other  way  of  obtaininir  salvation,  except 
that  laid  down  by  this  great  general,  "thinkin"- 
nothing  done,  while  there  is  any  Ihinir  to  do." 
Behold,  m  the  words  of  our  text,  behold  a  man, 
who  perlectly  knew  the  way  to  heaven,  a  man 
most  sincerely  aspiring  to  salvation.  What  does 
he  to  succeed?    What  we  have  said;  he  counted 
all  he  had  done  nothing,  while  there  remained 
any  thing  more  to  do.     After  he  had  carried 
virtue  to  its  highest  pitch,  after  he  had  made 
the  most  rapid  progress,  and  obtained  the  most 
splendid  triumphs  in  the  road  ol" salvation,  still 
he  ran,  still  he  fought,  he  undertook  new  niorti- 
lications,  always  fearing  lest  lukewarniness  and 
indolence  should  frustrate  his  aim  of  obtaining 
the  prize  which  had  always  been  an  object  of 
his  hope;  "  1  therefore  so  run,  not  as  inicertainly; 
so  fight  I,  not  as  one  that  beateth  the  air.    But 
1   keep   under  ïny  body,  and  bring  it  into  sub- 
jection: lest  that  by  any  means,  when  I  have 
preached  to  others,  1  myself  should  be  a  cast- 
away." 

fcjt.  Paul  lives  no  more.  This  valiant  chain- 
fiion  has  already  conquered.  But  you,  you 
Christians,  are  yet  alive;  like  him,  the  ra("e  is 
o|)cn  before  you,  and  to  you  now,  as  well  as 
to  hiin  formerly,  a  voice  from  heaven  cries, 
"To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit 
with  me  in  my  throne,"  Rev.  iii.  21.  Happv, 
il"  animated  by  his  e.xamiile,  you  share  with 
liim  a  prize,  which  loses  nothing  of  its  excel- 
lence, by  the  number  of  those  who  partake  of 
it!  Happy,  if  you  be  able  one  day  to  say  with 
him,  "1  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith. 
Henceforth  there  is  laid  u|)  for  me  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord  the  righteous 
Judge  shall  give  me  at  that  day,  and  not  to 
me  only,  but  onto  all  them  that  love  his  appear- 
ing," 2  Tim.  iv.  7,  8. 

Let  IIS  first  make  a  general  remark  on  the 
exiiressions  of  the  text;  they  are  a  nianili;st  al- 
lusion to  the  games  which  were  celebrated 
among  the  heathens.  Fable,  or  history,  tells 
IIS.  that  i'elops  invented  them,  that  Hercules 
and  AtrcuR  brought  them  to  perfection,  that 
Iphitus  r<;stored  theui;  ;ill  which  signify  very 
little  to  us.  What  is  certain  is,  that  these 
giunes  were  celebrated  w  ilh  groat  pomp.  They 
were  so  .«oleiini  among  the  C!  reeks,  that  they 
made  use  of  them  to  mark  memorable  events 
and   public  eras,  that  of  consuls  at  Kome,  of 


archoiis  at  Athens,  of  priestesses  as  Argos. 
They  passed  from  Greece  to  Italy,  and  were 
so  much  in  vague  at  Rome,  that  an  ancient 
author  said,  two  things  wore  necessary  to  tlio 


Roman  people — bread  and  public  shows.  It 
is  needless  to  repeat  here  what  learned  men 
have  collected  on  this  subject,  we  will  remark 
only  what  may  serve  to  elucidate  our  text,, all 
the  ideas  of  which  are  borrowed  from  these 
exercises. 

1.  In  these  games  the  most  remarkable  ob- 
jects was  the  course.  The  ground,  on  which 
the  games  were  celebrated,  was  marked  out 
with  great  exactness.  In  some  places  line» 
were  drawn,  and  the  place  of  combat  railed, 
and  when  he  who  ran  went  beyond  the  line^ 
he  ran  to  no  purpose.  It  was  dangerous  to" 
ramble,  especially  in  some  places,  as  in  Greece, 
where  the  space  was  bounded  on  one  side  by 
the  river  Alplieiis,  and  on  the  other  by  a  sort 
of  chevaux  de  frise,  as  at  Rome;  where  before 
the  construction  of  the  circus,  which  was  after- 
ward built  on  purpose  for  spectacles  of  this 
sort,  an  area  was  chosen,  on  one  side  of  which 
was  a  chevaux  de  frise,  and  on  the  other  the 
Tiber,  so  that  the  combatant  could  not  p;iss 
the  bounds  prescribed  to  him  without  exposing 
himself  to  the  danger  either  of  being  wounded 
by  the  spikes,  or  drowned  in  the  waves.  This 
is  the  first  emblem,  which  our  apostle  uses 
here;  "  I  run,"  alluding  to  the  course  in  gene- 
ral; "  I  do  not  run  uncertainly,"  in  allusion  to 
such  combatants  as,  by  passing  the  boundaries, 
lost  the  fruit  of  their  lai)our. 

2.  Among  other  games  were  those  of  wrest- 
ling and  boxing.  Address  in  these  combats 
consisted  in  not  aiming  any  blow  which  did  not 
strike  the  adversary.  He  who  had  not  this 
address,  was  said  to  "  beat  the  air;"  and  hence 
came  the  proverb  "  to  beat  the  air,"  to  signify 
labouring  in  vain.*  This  is  the  second  allusion 
of  St.  Paul,  "  1  fight,  not  as  one  that  beateth 
the  air." 

3.  The  combatants  observed  a  particular  re- 
gimen, to  render  themselves  more  active  and 
vigorous.  The  time,  the  quantity,  and  the  riii- 
ture  of  their  aliments  were  prescribed,  and  they 
punctually  complied  with  the  rules.  They  laid 
aside  every  thing  likely  to  enervate  them. 
"  Would  you  obtain  a  prize  in  tlie  Olympic 
games'"  said  a  i)agan  philosopher,  "  a  noble 
design!  But  consider  the  preparations  and 
consequences.  You  must  live  by  rule,  you 
must  eat  when  you  are  not  hungry,  you  must 
abstain  from  agreeable  foods,  you  must  habitu- 
ate yourself  to  suflcr  heat  and  cold;  in  one 
word,  you  must  give  yourself  up  entirely  to  a 
physician."!  Ry  these  means  the  combatants 
acquired  such  health  and  strength,  that  they 
could  bend  with  the  greatest  ease  such  bows  as 
horses  could  hardly  bend;  hence  the  "  health  of 
a  champion"  W!is  a  common  proverb|  to  ex- 
press a  strong  hale  state.  As  this  regimen  was 
exact,  it  was  painful  and  trying.  It  was  ne- 
cessary not  only  to  surmount  irregular  desires, 
but  all  those  exercises  must  be  positively  prac- 
tised which  were  essential  to  victorious  com- 
batants: it  was  not  sulficient  to  observe  them  a 
little  while,  they  must  be  wrought  by  long  pre- 
paration into  habits,  without  which  the  agility 
and  viginir  acquired  by  repeated  labours  would 
be  lost;  witness  that  famous  champion,  who, 
after  he  had  often  and  gloriously  succeeded, 

*  Euslat.  in  Homer.  Iliml. 

t  Kpiet.  cap.  36.  Voi.  I'lal.  or  Ifcibu»,  lib.  8. 

]  llur.  Art.  Poet.  Juliau  ilc  Laud.  CousL  Orat.  i. 


Ser.  LIII.l 


PROGRESSIVE  RELIGION. 


11 


was  sliamefuUy  conquered,  hocauso  he  had  ne- 
glected the  reffimen  for  six  montlis,  during 
wliiclt  time  a  domestic  affair  had  obh^ed  liiiii 
to  reside  at  Alliens.*  This  is  tlie  third  allusion 
which  our  apostle  makes  in  the  text,  "  I  keep 
under  my  body,  and  hrin<r  it  into  subjection." 
IjCt  us  observe,  by  the  way,  that  these  ex- 
pressions of  our  apostle  have  b<;eii  abused  to 
absurd  though  devotional  purposes;  and,  to 
omit  others,  it  was  an  abuse  of  these  expressions 
which  produced  the  extravaçrant  sect  of  the 
Flagellants. f  All  l<aly  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury was  seized  with  a.  panic,  which  ended  in 
the  birth  of  this  sect.  The  next  century,  the 
Germans  being  alllicled  with  a.  plague,  it  tilled 
all  Germany,  and  llie  folly  of  Ileury  III.  king 
of  France,  joined  to  that  moan  complaisance 
which  induces  courtiers  to  çro  into  all  the  ca- 
prices of  their  masters,  introduced  it  into  that 
kingdom,  and  into  that  kino-doin  it  went  with 
so  much  fury,  that  (Iharlcs,  cardinal  of  Ijor- 
raine,  actually  killed  himself  by  adhering  too 
closely  to  its  maxims  during  a  rigorous  win- 
ter.+ 

What  a  wide  field  opens  here  to  oin-  medita- 
tion, were  it  necessary  to  show  the  absurdity 
of  such  devotions! 

We  might  show,  that  they  owe  their  origin 
to  P'aganism.  Plutarch  says,  that  in  the  city 
of  Lacedoemon,  they  were  sometimes  pursued 
even  to  death  in  honour  of  Diana. §  Herodotus 
speaks  to  the  same  purpose  concerning  the  fes- 
tival of  the  great  goddess  in  Egvpt. ||  In  like 
manner  Philostratus  speaks  of  the  devotions 
performed  in  honour  of  the  Scythian  Diana. IT 
Thus  also  Apulcius  concerning  the  priests  of 
the  goddess  of  Syria;**  and  thus  authors  more 
credible,  I  mean  the  writers  of  the  Book  of 
Kings,  concerning  the  priests  of  Baal. 

We  might  show  the  weakness  of  the  argu- 
ments on  which  such  practices  are  founded;  as 
fabulous  miracles,  and,  among  many  others,  a 
letter  brought  by  an  angel  from  heaven  to  Je- 
rusalem, which  declared,  that  the  blessed  vir- 
gin having  implored  pardon  for  the  guilty,  God 
had  replied,  that  their  pardon  should  be  granted 
on  condition  they  whipped  themselves  in  this 
manner. if 

We  might  produce  the  weighty  reasons 
which  many  of  the  Roman  communion,  and 
among  others  Gerson  and  De  Thou,  urged 
against  such  practices,  and  the  testimonies  of 
our  Scriptures,  which  expressly  forbid  them; 
but  we  will  content  ourselves  with  observing, 
that  the  words  of  our  text  have  nothing  that 
can  serve  even  for  a  plausible  pretence  for  these 
superstitions.  We  said  St.  Paul  alluded  to  the 
regimen  observed  by  combatants;  combatants 
observed  that  kind  of  life,  which  was  most  pro- 
per to  fit  them  for  their  profession;  in  like  man- 
ner, St.  Paid  observed  what  fitted  him  for  his. 
Were  it  possible  to  prove  that  mortifications  and 
macerations  were  necessary  to  this  purpose,  we 


*  Baudelot  de  Dairval.  Hist,  de  Ptolomee  Auletes,  d.  61. 
e.  9.  '^ 

\  Ilospinian.  Hist.  Moiiach.  Boilrau.  Hist,  des  Flagel- 
lons. 

}  De  Thou,  Hist.  liv.  59. 

I)  Plularch  Vil.  Lrcurg. 

II  Eiitrnn.  liv.  ii.  cli.  41. 

^  De  Vil.  .\pollon.  lib.  \\.  c.  20. 

**  L'Ane  d'Or,  liv.  viii. 

ft  Bosiiia  Anal,  under  the  year  1349. 


should  not  Hien  have  a  right  to  determine  that 
tiie  apostle  had  his  eye  on  such  services  here. 
For  our  parts,  we  think,  he  intended  all  acts 
of  repentance  prescribed  in  Scripture,  and  ex- 
emplified by  the  saints;  as  silence,  retirement, 
fasting,  abstinence  from  criminal  pleasures,  and 
so  on. 

4.  Further,  there  were  persons  who  presided 
over  the  pagan  games.  They  were  called  he- 
ralds. The  name  given  them  in  the  Greek 
language  is  precise!}'  the  same  which  in  our 
langua<re  is  rendered  prfacher.  Their  ofiice 
was  expressed  by  a  word  which  signifies  to 
preach.  It  consisted  in  proclaiming  the  game, 
directing  the  cumbalants,  cncomaging  the 
weak,  animating  llie  valiant,  exposing  the  prize 
to  public  view,  and  giving  it  to  the  victor.  This 
is  the  fourth  allusion  of  our  apostle,  "lest  when 
I  have  preached  to  (jtiicrs.'"  The  original  word 
vvliich  wo  have  translated  f reached,  is  the  very 
word  which  is  used  to  describe  the  oflice  of  such 
as  presided  at  the  games;  and  St.  Paul,  by  using 
this  term,  gives  us  a  beautiful  idea  of  the  apos- 
tleship,  and,  in  general  of  the  gospel  ministry- 
What  is  the  office  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel? 
We  publish  the  race,  we  describe  the  "good 
works,  which  God  hath  before  ordained,  that 
we  should  walk  in  them;"  we  animate  you  by 
often  saying,  "  run  with  patience  the  race  that 
is  set  before  you:"  we  lift  up  to  public  view  the 
prize,  and  in  the  name  of  God  we  cry,  "so  run 
that  you  may  obtain."  Happy  if  you  all  attend 
to  tiiis  voice,  and  if,  wliile  a  few  are  eagerly 
and  constantly  running  the  race  sot  before  them, 
others  do  not  run  more  eagerly  across  the  space, 
like  those  unhappy  people  just  now  mentioned, 
who  were  wounded  with  iron  spikes,  or  drown- 
ed in  the  waves. 

5.  In  fine.  The  last  remark  we  make  on  pa- 
gan games  regards  the  different  destiny  of  the 
combatants.  The  conquered  derived  no  advan- 
tages from  their  pains;  but  the  victors  were  co- 
vered with  honours  and  advantages;  they  were 
distinguislied  in  all  public  assemblies;  they 
were  called  by  the  high  sounding  name  of 
Olympian;  they  were  crowned  with  great  ce- 
remony; statues  were  erei'ted  to  their  honour, 
and  breaclics  were  made  in  the  walls  of  cities 
to  admit  them  with  the  greater  pomp.  This  is 
the  fifth  allusion  which  the  apostle  here  makes 
to  the  games,  "lest  I  should  be  a  cast-away." 
A  casl-aicay;  the  heathens  applied  this  word  to 
such  combatants  as  entered  the  lists  but  did  not 
obtain  the  prize. 

Such  were  the  games  celebrated  through  all 
Greece,  and  in  particular  at  the  city  of  Phi- 
lippi,  where  St.  Paul  wrote  this  epistle,  and  in 
that  of  Corinth  to  which  it  is  addressed.  The 
believer  is  a  stranger  on  earth,  he  sees  there  a 
thousand  delights  of  wiiich  he  does  not  partake. 
The  eyes  of  Paul  at  Philippi,  more  properly  his 
ears  (for  St.  Paul  hardly  attended  public  amuse- 
ments,) were  struck  with  the  fame  and  mag- 
nificence of  these  games.  The  Corinthians 
were  in  the  same  condition.  How  hard  is  it  to 
live  in  a  country  and  to  be  excluded  from  the 
pleasures  of  the  inhabitants!  St.  Paul  streno-th- 
ens  the  Corinthians  and  himself  against  these 
temptations;  he  rises  from  sensual  to  spiritual 
pleasures,  and  says,  he  has  also  an  area,  a  race 
a  crown,  a  triumph.  "  I  therefore  so  run,  not 
as  uncertainly;  so  fight  I,  not  as  one  that  beat- 


12 


THE  NECESSITY  OF 


[Ser.  LIIl. 


elh  the  air.  But  I  keep  under  my  body,  and 
bring  it  into  subjection,  lest  that  by  any  means, 
when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself  should 
be  a  cast-away." 

We  have  explained  the  terms  and  allusions 
of  the  apostle.  His  meaning  is  sufficiently 
clear.  "  I  keep  under  my  body,"  and  so  on, 
does  not  mean,  as  some  interpreters  have  it,  I 
halt  between  hope  of  salvation,  and  fear  of  de- 
struction; an  interpretation  directly  opposite  to 
that  assurance  whicii  St.  Paul  expresses  in  ma- 
ny parts  of  his  epistles,  and  particularly  in  this 
famous  passage  which  we  have  elsewiiere  ex- 
plained, "lam  persuaded  that  neither  death, 
nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  pow- 
ers, nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall 
be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God," 
Rom.  viii.  38,  39.  But  '"  I  keep  under  my 
body;"  and  the  rest  means,  whatever  progress 
I  have  made  in  a  career  of  virtue,  all  my  past 
efforts  would  be  useless,  should  I  spend  the  rest 
of  my  life  in  idleness  and  indifference,  and  I 
could  not  expect,  even  by  the  assistance  of 
grace,  to  arrive  at  glory. 

Let  us  now  justify  this  disposition  of  our 
apostle,  and  let  us  prove  this  general  truth,  tiiat 
there  is  no  point  fixed,  at  which  a  Christian 
may  stop;  that  each  portion  of  life  has  its  task; 
that  to  what  degree  soever  we  have  carried  our 
sanctification,  unless  we  carry  it  further,  go  on 
and  persevere,  we  should  act  contrary  to  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  the  gospel.  This  is  the 
principal  design  of  this  discourse. 

1.  Let  us  first  examine  tlie  example  of  St. 
Paul.  St.  Paul  did  not  think  that  if  he  lived 
hereafter  in  indolence  without  endeavouring  to 
make  new  advances,  he  had  any  right  to  expect 
the  benefits  of  the  gospel:  no  Christian,  there- 
fore, living  in  indolence,  and  making  no  new 
advances,  ought  to  flatter  himself  that  he  is  en- 
titled to  the  blessings  of  the  gospel.  In  order 
to  perceive  this  consequence,  form  a  just  notion 
of  the  virtue  of  our  apostle,  and  consider  Paul 
as  a  zealot,  Paul  as  a  proselyte,  Paul  as  an 
apostle,  and  Paul  as  a  martyr,  and  you  will 
allow  he  was  a  great  character,  a  Christian  of 
iho  highest  order;  and  that  if,  with  all  his  emi- 
nent virtues,  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  ac- 
quire yet  more  eminent  virtue,  every  Christian 
ought  to  form  the  same  idea  of  his  own  duty. 

Consider  Paul  as  a  zealot.  Perhaps  you  may 
be  surprised  at  our  passing  an  encomium  on 
this  part  of  his  life.  Certainly  we  shall  not 
undertake  to  make  an  apology  for  that  cruel 
and  barbarous  zeal  which  made  use  of  fire  and 
blood,  and  which  put  racks  for  arguments,  and 

fibbets  for  demonstrations.  But  the  purest  life 
as  iU  blots;  and  the  most  generous  heart  its 
frailties.  In  that  faUl  necessity  of  imperfection 
which  is  imposed  on  all  mankind,  there  are 
some  defiled  streams,  so  to  speak,  which  flow 
from  pure  springs;  sonje  people,  and  the  apostle 
was  one,  wlio  sin  from  an  excess  of  virtue. 
What  idea  then  must  we  form  of  this  man,  and 
what  shall  wc  say  of  his  virtues,  since  his  vices 
wore  elfects  of  such  an  excellent  cause.'  This 
odious  part  of  his  life,  which  he  wished  to  bury 
in  oblivion,  tliat  barbarity  and  madness,  that 
industry  to  inflame  the  synagogue,  and  to  stir 
up  all  the  world,  all  tiiis,  strictly  speaking,  and 
properly  explained,  was  worthy  of  praise 


Ho 


maintained  error.  Why'  Because  he  thought 
it  was  truth,  and  respected  it  accordingly.  He 
persecuted,  because  he  loved;  he  was  mad,  be- 
cause he  was  zealous;  zeal,  as  I  said  just  now, 
misguided,  but  zeal,  however;  a  criminal  indis- 
cretion indeed,  but  an  indiscretion,  whicii  in  a 
moral  abstraction,  may  be  considered  as  a  vir- 
tue. 

Consider  Paul  as  a  proselyte.     A  man  edu- 
cated in  opinions  opposite  to  Ciiristianity,  in- 
fatuated with  popular  errors,  prejudiced  with 
ideas  of  a  temporal  Messiah,  accustomed  to 
consider  Jesus  Christ  as  an  impostor,  and  his 
religion  as  a   plot  concerted  by  knaves,  this 
man  changes  his  ideas,  and  his  whole  system 
of  religion,  and   worships  the  crucified  Jesus, 
who  was  "  to  the  Jew  a  stumbling  block,  and 
to  the  Greek  foolishness,"   1  Cor.  i.  23.     The 
first  lesson  from  heaven  persuades  him,  tlie  first 
knock  at  the  door  of  his   heart  oj>ens  it,  his 
conversion  is  affected  in  a  moment.     "  I  went 
not  up  to  Jerusalem,"  said  he;  "  I  conferred 
not   with   flesh  and   blood,"    Gal.  i.    16,    IT. 
What  a  fund  of  virtue  instantly  had  this  man 
in  his  heart!    Of  all  characters  in  life  there  are 
few  so  respectable  as  that  of  a  real  proselyte. 
A  man  wlio  changes  his  religion  on  pure  prin- 
ciples, has  a  greatness  of  soul  above  common 
men.     I  venture  to  advance  this  general  max- 
im, that  a  man  who  changes  his  religion,  must 
be  consummate  either  in  virtue  or  vice.     If 
he  be  insincere,  he  is  a  wretch;  if  he  be  not  a 
wretch,  he  is  a  hero.  He  is  a  hero  if  his  virtue 
be  sincere,  if  he   makes  generous  efforts  to 
correct  errors  imbibed  in  his  earliest  youth,  if 
he  can  see  without  trembling  that  path  of  tri- 
bulation whicii  is  generally  opened  to  such  as 
forsake  their  religion,  and  if  lie  can  bear  all  the 
suppositions  which  are  generally  made  against 
them  who  renounce   the   profession   of  their 
ancestors;  if,  I  say,  he  can  do  all  this,  he  is  a 
hero.     On  the  contrary,   none  but  a  wretch 
can  embark  in  such  an  undertaking,  if  he  be 
destitute  of  the  dispositions  necessary  to  suc- 
cess.    When  such  a  man  forsakes  his  former 
profession  of  religion,  there  is  reason  to  suppose 
that  human  motives  have  done  what  love  of 
truth  could  not  do;  and  that  he  embraces  his 
new  religion,  not  because  it  appears  to  him 
more  worthy  of  his  attention  and  respect,  but 
because  it  is  more  suitable  to  his  interest.  Now 
to  embrace  a  religion  for  worldly  interest  is 
almost  the  highest  pitcii  of  wickedness.     Our 
maxim  admits   of  very  few   exceptions,    and 
most   proselytes   are   either  men   of  eminent 
virtue  or  abandoned  wretches;  and  as  we  are 
happy  to  acknowledge  there  are  several  of  the 
first  kind  in  this  age,  so  with  sorrow  we  are 
obliged  to  allow,  that  there  are  a  great  number 
of  the  latter.     Let  St.  Paul  be  judged  by  tl>e 
utmost  rigour  of  this  maxim.     Ho  was  a  hero 
in  Christianity.     The  principle  that  engaged 
him   to   embrace   the   gospel,   diffused    itself 
through  all  his  life,  and  every  one  of  his  actions 
verified  tiie  sincerity  of  his  conversion. 

St.  Paul  was  born  for  great  tilings;  he  it  was 
whom  God  chose  for  an  apostle  to  the  (tcntiles. 
He  did  not  stop  in  the  porch  of  the  Lord's 
house,  he  quickly  passed  into  the  holy  place; 
he  was  only  a  very  short  time  a  catechumen 
in  the  school  of  Christ;  he  soon  became  a 
master,  a  minister,  an  apostle;  and  in  all  these 


Sep.  lui.] 


PROGRESSIVE  RELIGION. 


13 


eminent  offices  he  carried  virtue  to  a  higher 
pitch  than  it  iiad  over  been  carried  before  liim, 
and  perliaps  beyond  wiiat  it  will  ever  be  prac- 
tised after  him.  In  effect,  what  (jualities  ought 
a  minister  of  the  gospel  to  possess  which  St. 
Paul  did  not  possess  in  the  highest  degree.'  Is 
it  assiduity.'  "  Ye  remember,  brethren,"  said 
he,  "  our  labour  and  travel,  for  labouring  night 
and  day  we  preached  unto  you  the  gospel  of 
God,"  1  Thess.  ii.  9.  Is  it  gentleness.'  "  We 
were  gentle  among  you,  even  as  a  nurse  cher- 
ishetb  her  children.  You  know  how  we  e.\- 
horted,  and  comforted,  and  charged  every  one 
of  you,  as  a  father  doth  his  children,  that  yo 
would  walk  worthy  of  God,"  chap.  ii.  7.  11, 
12.  Is  it  prudence?  "  Unto  tlie  Jews  I  l)e<:ame 
as  a  Jew,  that  I  might  gain  the  Jews;  to  them 
that  are  without  law  as  without  law,  that  I 
might  gain  them  that  are  without  law.  I  am 
made  all  things  to  all  men,  that  I  might  by  all 
means  save  some,"  2  Cor.  i.v.  20.  22.  Is  it 
charity.'  "  I  could  wish  that  myself  were  ac- 
cursed from  Christ  for  my  brethren,"  Rom. 
ix.  3.  "  I  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent 
for  you,"  2  Cor.  xii.  15.  Is  it  courage.'  He 
resisted  St.  Peter,  and  "  withstood  him  to  the 
face,  because  he  was  to  be  blamed,"  Gal.  ii. 
11.  "  He  reasoned  of  righteousness,  temper- 
ance, and  judgment  to  come,  before  Felix  and 
Drusilla,"  Acts  xxiv.  25.  Is  it  disinterested- 
ness in  regard  to  the  world.'  "  We  sought  not 
glory  of  men,  neither  of  you,  nor  yet  of  others. 
We  speak  the  gospel  not  as  pleasing  men,  but 
God,  which  trieth  our  hearts,"  1  Thess.  ii.  6. 
4.  Is  it  zeal.'  "  His  spirit  was  stirred  in  him 
at  Athens,  when  he  saw  the  city  wholly  given 
to  idolatry,"  Acts  xvii.  16.  Then,  like  the 
prophet  of  old,  he  became  "  very  jealous  for 
the  Lord  of  hosts,"  1  Kings  xix.  10.  Is  it  to 
support  the  honour  of  his  ministry.'  "Let  a 
man  so  account  of  us,  as  of  the  ministers  of 
Christ,"  1  Cer.  iv.  1.  "We  are  ambassadors 
for  Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by 
us,"  2  Cor.  V.  20.  "  It  were  better  for  me  to 
die,  than  that  any  man  should  make  my  glory- 
ing void,"  1  Cor.  ix.  16.  Jesus  Christ  was  the 
model,  by  which  St.  Paul  formed  him.self  ;  "  be 
ye  followers  of  me,  even  as  1  also  am  of  Christ," 
chap.  xi.  1.  When  students  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  the  Christian  ministry,  models  of  such 
as  have  distinguished  themselves  in  this  office 
are  proposed  to  their  imitation.  The  imagina- 
tion of  one,  the  judgment  of  another,  the  gra- 
vity of  a  third,  and  tlie  learning  of  a  fourth  are 
set  before  them,  and  from  good  originals  very 
oflen  we  receive  bad  copies.  St.  Paul  chose  his 
pattern.  His  master,  his  model,  his  original, 
his  all,  was  Jesus  Christ;  and  he  copied  every 
stroke  of  his  original,  "  be  ye  followers  of  me, 
even  as  I  also  am  of  Christ." 

But,  though  it  is  always  commendable  to 
discharge  this  holy  office  well,  yet  it  is  par- 
ticularly so  in  some  circumstances;  and  our 
apostle  was  in  such,  for  he  officiated  when  the 
whole  world  was  enraged  against  Christians. 
Consider  him  then  on  the  stage  of  martyrdom. 
What  would  now  be  our  glory  was  then  his 
disgrace;  assiduity,  gentleness,  zeal,  and  all 
the  other  virtues  just  now  mentioned,  drew 
upon  him  the  most  envenomed  jealousy,  accu- 
sations the  most  atrocious,  and  persecutions  the 
most  cruel.     It  was  in  this  light,  God  set  tlie 


mmistry  before  him  at  first,  "  I  will  show  him 
how  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  my  name 
sake,"  Acts  ix.  IG.  Show  him  how  great 
tilings  he  must  suffijr  for  my  name  sake!  What 
a  motive  to  engage  a  man  to  undertake  an 
office!  Now-a-days,  in  order  to  give  a  great 
idea  of  a  church,  it  is  said,  it  has  such  and  such 
advantages,  so  mucli  in  cash,  so  m\ich  in  small 
tithes,  and  so  much  in  great  tithes.  St.  Paul 
saw  tlie  ministry  only  as  a  path  full  of  thorns 
and  briars,  and  he  experienced,  through  all  the 
course  of  his  life,  the  trutii  of  tliat  idea  which 
was  given  him  of  his  office.  Hear  the  catalogue 
of  his  sufferings.  "  Of  the  Jews  five  times 
received  I  forty  stripes  save  one.  Thrice  was 
I  beaten  with  rods,  once  was  I  stoned,  thrice  I 
suffered  shipwreck;  a  night  and  a  day  have  I 
been  in  the  deep.  In  journeyings  often,  in 
])erils  of  waters,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils 
by  mine  own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the 
heathen,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the 
wilderness,  in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among 
false  brethren;  in  weariness  and  painfulness, 
in  watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  lliirst,  in 
fastings  often,  in  cold  and  nakedness,"  Î  Cor. 
xi.  24—27.  Good  God!  What  a  salary  for  a 
minister;  hunger,  thirst,  fastings,  nakedness, 
peril,  persecution,  death!  In  our  case,  we  can 
die  but  once,  and  virtue  considers  the  proximity 
of  the  crown  of  righteousness,  which  being 
suspended  immediately  over  the  head  of  the 
martyr,  supports  him  under  the  pains  of  mar- 
tyrdom; but  the  ministry  of  St.  Paul  was  a 
perpetual  martyrdom;  his  life  was  a  continual 
death.  "  I  think  that  God  hath  set  forth  us 
the  apostles  last,  as  it  were  appointed  to  death. 
For  we  are  made  a  spectacle  unto  the  world, 
and  to  angels,  and  to  men,"  1  Cor.  iv.  9. 

Here  we  finisli  the  eulogium  of  our  apostle, 
and,  by  uniting  the  parts  of  this  slight  sketch, 
we  obtain  a  just  portrait  of  the  man.  Do  you 
know  a  greater  than  St.  Paul.'  Can  you  con- 
ceive virtue  in  a  more  eminent  degree.'  Behold 
a  man  fired  with  zeal,  making  what  he  thought 
tlie  cause  of  God  his  own  cause,  God's  enemies 
his  enemies,  the  interest  of  God  the  interest  of 
himself.  Behold  a  man,  who  turns  his  atten- 
tion to  truth,  and,  the  moment  he  discovers  it, 
embraces,  and  openly  avows  it.  Behold  a  man 
who,  not  content  to  be  an  ordinary  Christian, 
and  to  save  himself  alone,  aspiring  at  the  glory 
of  carrying  througii  the  wiiole  world  for  public 
advantage,  that  li^ht  which  had  illuminated 
himself  Behold  a  man  preaching,  writing; 
what  am  I  saying.'  Behold  a  man  suffering, 
dying,  and  sealing  with  his  own  blood  the 
truths  he  taught.  An  ardent  zealot,  a  sincere 
convert,  an  accomplished  minister,  a  bleeding 
martyr,  learned  in  his  errors,  and,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  speak  so,  regular  in  his  mistakes, 
and  virtuous  even  in  his  crimes.  Show  me  in 
the  modern  or  primitive  church  a  greater  cha- 
racter than  St.  Paul.  Let  any  man  produce  a 
Christian  who  had  more  reason  to  be  satisfied 
with  himself,  and  who  had  more  right  to  pre- 
tend that  he  had  disciiarged  all  his  duties.  Yet 
this  very  man,  this  Paul,  "  forgat  those  things 
which  were  behind!"  This  very  Paul  was 
"  pressing  forward!"  This  is  the  man  who 
feared  he  should  "  be  a  cast-away!"  And  you, 
"smoking  flax,"  you  "bruised  reed,"  you, 
who  have  hardly  taken  root  in  the  Christian 


14 


THE  NECESSITY  OF 


[Ser.  Lin. 


Boil,  you,  who  haVe  hardly  a  spark  of  love  to 
God,  do  you  tliink  your  piety  suffirient!  Are 
you  the  man  to  leave  off  endeavouring  to  make 
new  advances! 

Perhaps  you  may  say,  the  text  is  not  to  be 
taken  literally,  it  is  the  langua^rc  of  liumiiity, 
and  resembles  what  St.  Paul  s;iys  in  another 
place,  I  am  the  "  chief  of  sinnei-s;"  ajrrecabiy 
to  his  own  direction,  tliat  each  ('iirislian 
*'  should  esteem  another  belter  tiian  him.self," 
and  which  he  calls,  very  justly,  "  lowliness  of 
mind."  No  such  thinjr,  my  brethren,  you  will 
be  convinced  of  the  contrary  by  tlio  follow  injj 
reflections. 

2.  We  ground  the  necessity  of  progressive 
religion  on  tiie  great  eiul  of  (Christianity.  Form, 
if  it  be  possible,  a  ju.st  notion  of  C'liristianity. 
I  say  if  it  be  possible;  for  wo  have  an  unacfounl- 
able  reluctance  to  understand  our  own  religion. 
We  have  all  a  strange  propensity  to  disguise 
the  character  of  a  true  Christian,  and  to  keep 
ourselves  ignorant  of  it.  We  have  the  holy 
Scriptures,  and  in  them  the  gospel  plan  of  re- 
demption before  our  eyes  every  day;  and  every 
day  we  throw  over  them  a  variety  of  preju- 
dices, which  suppress  the  truth,  and  prevent 
us  from  seeing  its  beauty.  One  forms  of  Chris- 
tianity an  idea  of  indolence  and  relaxation, 
and,  under  pretence  that  the  gospel  speaks  of 
mercy  and  grace,  persuades  himself  that  he  may 
give  a  loose  to  all  his  natural  evil  dispositions. 
Another  imagines  the  gospel  a  body  of  (lisci[>- 
line,  the  principal  design  of  which  was  to  regu- 
late society;  so  that  provided  we  be  pretty  good 
parents,  tolerable  magistrates,  and  as  good 
subjects  as  other  people,  we  ought  all  to  be 
content  with  ourselves.  A  third  thinks,  to  be 
a  Christian  is  to  defend  with  constant  heat 
certain  points  which  he  elevates  into  capital 
doctrines,  essential  to  holiness  here,  and  to 
salvation  hereafter.  A  fourth,  more  unjust 
than  all  the  rest,  supposes  the  first  duty  of  a 
Christian  is  to  be  sure  of  his  own  salvation. 
Each  wanders  after  his  own  fancy. 

It  should  seem,  however,  that  the  more  we 
consult  the  gospel,  the  more  fully  shall  wo  be 
convinced,  tiiat  its  design  is  to  engage  us  to 
aspire  at  perfection,  to  transform  man,  to  render 
him  as  perfect  as  lie  was  when  he  came  out  of 
the  hands  of  his  Creator,  "to  renew  him  after 
the  image  of  him  that  created  him,"  to  make 
him  approach  the  nature  of  glorified  saints,  and, 
to  say  all  in  one  word,  to  transform  him  into 
the  divine  nature.  This  is  Christianity.  This 
it  is  to  be  a  ('hristian;  and  conseqnently  a 
Christian  is  a  man  called  to  be  "  perfect  as  his 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  ])erfi!(;t;"  to  be 
one  with  God,  as  Jesus  Christ  is  one  witli 
God. 

This  definition  of  a  Christian  and  of  Chris- 
tianity, is  juslilied  by  all  we  see  in  the  gosjiel. 
For  why  does  it  every  where  propose  perlecliiui 
for  our  end,  heaven  to  our  hope,  God  for  our 
model?  Why  does  it  toarrh  us  to  consider  the 
good  things  of  the  world  as  evils,  and  the  evils 
of  the  world  as  benefits,  hiunan  virtues  as  vices, 
and  what  men  call  vice  as  virtue?  Why  all 
this?  All  beside  the  matter,  unless  the  gospel 
proposes  to  renew  man,  to  transform  him,  and 
to  make  him  approa(;h  the  perfei^t  Being. 

P'rom  these  principles  we  conclude  this. — 
Since  tho  go.spel  requires  us  tu  endeavour  to 


"  be  perfect  as  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven 
is  perfect,"  we  ought  never  to  cease  endea- 
vouring till  we  arc  "  as  perfect  as  our  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  is  porf(!ct."  Since  the 
gospel  reipiircs  us  to  labour  to  Imcome,  by  a 
transformation  of  our  being,  one  with  God,  as 
Jesus  Christ  is  one  with  God,  we  ought  -never 
to  give  over  our  endeavours  till  we  do  become 
one  with  God.  Moreover,  as  we  shall  never 
in  this  life  carry  our  virtue  fo  so  high  a  degree 
as  to  be  [icrfect  as  our  Father  is  perfect,  holy 
as  God  is  h(dy,  one  with  God  as  Jesus  Christ 
is  one  with  (Jod,  it  follows  to  a  demonstration, 
that  in  no  period  of  our  life  will  our  duty  be 
finished;  consequently,  we  must  make  con- 
tinual progress,  if  we  would  answer  oar  en- 
gagements; and  consequently  there  is  no  point 
fixed  in  the  career  of  virtue,  in  which  it  would 
be  allowable  to  stoj);  and  consequently,  St. 
Paul  ought  to  be  understood  literally,  when  he 
says  of  himself,  "  I  count  not  myself  to  have 
apprehended;  I  therefore  so  run,  not  as  un- 
certainly; so  fight  I,  not  as  one  that  beateth 
the  air.  Piut  I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring 
it  into  subjection,  lest  that  by  any  means,  when 
1  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself  should  be 
a  cast-away,"  Phil.  iii.  13;  and  conse(iuently, 
of  all  the  excuses,  of  all  the  pretexts,  of  all  the 
sophisms,  whicii  were  ever  invented  to  palliate 
that  slowness  with  whicli  we  walk  in  the  way 
of  virtue,  there  are  none  more  frivolous  than 
these — we  are  not  saints,  we  cannot  be  perfect, 
we  cannot  j>ut  otf  human  nature;  for  it  is  be- 
cause you  are  not  saints,  it  is  because  you  are 
710/  perfect,  it  is  because  you  cannot  put  off 
human  nature,  it  is  on  this  account,  that  you 
ouffht  to  make  a  continual  progress  in  CJhris- 
tian  virtue,  that  the  sincerity,  and,  so  to  speak, 
the  obstinacy  of  your  efforts  may  make  up  for 
imperfections. 

3.  Our  third  class  of  proofs  is  taken  from  the 
fatal  consequences  of  a  cessation  of  our  efforts,  a 
suspension  of  our  religious  endeavours.  Were 
it  literally  true  that  we  could  arrive  at  that 
state  of  perfection  which  the  gospel  requires  of 
us;  could  we  actually  finish  the  morality  of 
religion  it  would  still  follow,  that  we  must 
make  new  efforts  during  our  residence  in  this 
world;  and  that  without  these  our  past  labours 
would  be  useless.  A  man  employed  in  a  me- 
chanical art  ))rcpares  his  materials,  sets  about 
his  work,  and  carries  it  on  to  a  certain  degree. 
He  suspends  his  labour  for  a  while;  his  work 
does  not  advance,  indeed,  but  our  artist  has  at 
least  this  advantage  over  us,  when  he  returns 
to  his  labour,  he  finds  jiis  work  in  the  same  for- 
wardness in  which  he  left  it.  Heavenly  exer- 
cises arc  not  of  liiis  kind.  Past  labour  is  often 
lost  for  want  of  perseverance;  and,  it  is  a  cer- 
tain ma.xim  in  religion,  that  not  to  proceed  is 
to  draw  back. 

Vice  is  closely  connected  with  human  pro- 
pensities. \'irtiie,  on  tho  contrary,  is  directly 
opposite.  As  soon  as  you  cea.se  to  endeavour 
to  retain  what  opposes  your  projjensitics,  na- 
ture takes  its  course.  You  carry  within  you, 
so  to  si)eak,  a  worker  of  iniquity,  wiio  con- 
stantly labours  at  the  fatal  work  of  your  de- 
pravity. Tliis  Workman  is  the  old  man.  He 
every  day  gets  fi>rward,  every  day  confirms  you 
in  sin,  every  day  strengthens  your  attachment 
to  sensible  objects,  every  day  ties  you  with 


Sër.  lui.] 


PROGRESSIVE  RELIGION. 


IS 


fresh  bands  to  carllily  tilings.  If  you  do  not  op- 
])ose  labour  airaiii.st  labour,  reflection  against  re- 
jection, motive  against  motive,  progress  against 
progress,  you  will  bo  defeated. 

In  tliese  observation.s  we  find  an  answer  to 
an  objection,  constantly  repeated  wlien  we  con- 
denni  tliat   perpetual   dissipation,  tliat  exces- 
sive gaming,  and  tliose  reiterated  anmsements 
wliicli  consume  the  greatest  part  of  your  lives. 
Vou  perpetually  comjjlain,  tliat  we  overstrain 
mattei-s,  that  we  aggravate   things,  that    the 
yiiLe  of  Christ  is  easy,  and  his  burikn  is  light, 
and  that  wo  make  the  one  uneasy,  and  the 
other  heavy.     You  constantly  allege,  that  re- 
ligion is  not  intended  to  put  man  on  the  rack, 
but  to  conduct  liiin  to  reason:  that  the  gospel 
is  not  contrary  to  a  thousand  pleasures  which 
society  oilers  us,  and  that,  after  all,  the  things 
wo  condemn  are  indili'eront.     I  grant,  religion 
docs  not  condemn   pleasures.     1  grant  more, 
the    pleasures   you  roler  to  are  indill'erent  in 
Iheir  nature,  that  they  have  no  bad  inlluence, 
no  treachery,  no  calumny  in  your  conversation; 
no  fraud,  no  swearing,  no  sordid    interest  in 
your  gaming,  no  lax  maxims,  no  profaneness, 
no  immodesty  in  your  amusements;  I  grant  all 
this:  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  a  fact,  that,  as  the  new 
man  suspends  his  work,  the  old  man  advances 
his.     Jt  is  always  true,  for  example,  that  when 
a  sermon  has  made  some  impressions  on  your 
hearts,  when  the  lukewarm  are  aroused,  when 
the  impenitent  are  terrified,  those  other  objects 
etlace  tliese  impressions;  and,  though  they  may 
not   lead  you    into    the   commission  of  fresh 
crimes,  yet  they  make  you  relapse  into  that 
iirst  state  of  depravity  from  which  3'ou  seemed 
to  be  emerging. 

4.  A  fourth  source  of  proofs  in  favour  of 
the  necessity  of  progress  is,  the  advances  them- 
selves which  are  made  in  the  path  of  holiness. 
The  science  of  salvation  in  this  respect  resem- 
bles human  sciences.  In  human  sciences  we 
see  a  very  singular  phenomenon.  A  man  of 
great  and  real  learning  is  humble,  he  always 
speaks  with  caution,  he  pronounces  always 
with  circumspection,  he  determines  a  point 
treuibling,  and  his  answers  to  dillicult  questions 
are  not  unfrequently  confessions  of  his  igno- 
rance. On  the  contrary,  a  pedant  assumes  the 
state  of  a  superior  genius;  he  knows  every 
thing,  and  undertakes  to  elucidate  and  deter- 
mine every  thing.  Both  these  men  are  in 
earnest,  both  are  sincere.  The  learned  man 
speaks  very  sincerely:  for,  as  he  has  made 
great  advances  in  literature,  he  knows  the  ex- 
tent of  it;  he  knows  that  nature  has  dillicul- 
lies.  Providence  has  dejiths,  religion  has  mys- 
teries: such  a  man  becomes  humble  as  he  be- 
comes able,  and  the  more  he  acquires,  the  more 
he  feels  the  need  of  acquiring.  On  the  con- 
trary, a  pedant  does  not  even  know  what  learn- 
ing is,  he  slops  on  the  beach,  sees  a  little  way, 
takes  that  little  for  the  whole,  and  easily  per- 
suades himself  that  he  knows  all. 

Thus  in  the  science  of  salvation,  a  man  of 
little  reliuion,  who  has  only  a  languishing  re- 
gard for  God,  and  a  few  superticial  ideas  of 
virtue,  soon  flatters  himself  that  he  has  done 
all  his  duty,  employed  all  his  love,  and  carried 
t'ervour  to  its  highest  degree.  A  man  of  lively 
and  vigorous  religion  does  not  stop  on  the 
shore,  he  goes  aboard  a  fast  sailer,  weighs  an- 


chor, and  sets  sail  on  that  ocean  of  truth  which 
religion  sets  before  him,  and  ho  soon  finds  im- 
mense spaces  before  him;  or  to  speak  without 
a  ligure,  ho  finds  his  own  virtues  so  few  in 
number,  so  limited  in  degree,  so  obstructed  in 
their  course,  and  so  mixed  in  their  exercise, 
that   ho   easily   comes   into   a   well-grounded 
judgment,  that  all  he  has  attained  is  nothing 
to  wliat  lies  before  him.     As  he  meditates  oq 
his  sins,  he  finds  them  so  great,  so  numerous, 
so  odious,  so  dangerous,  that  he  cannot  compre- 
hend how  it  is  that  his  heart  does,  not  break, 
and  his  eyes  become  fountains  of  tears.     As  he 
meditates  on  the  nature  of  this  world,  he  finds 
it  so  vain  in  its  occupations,  so  puerile  in  its 
pleasures,  so  void  in  its  amusements,  its  friend- 
ships so  deceitful,  and  its  duration  so  short, 
that  he  cannot  comprehend  what  should  detain 
him  in  tlie  world.     As  he  meditates  on  the  fe- 
licity of  heaven,  he  finds  it  so  substantial  and 
pure,  so  splendid  and  satisfactory,  that  he  can- 
not conceive  what  should  detain  him,  and  pre- 
vent his  losing  sight  of  the  world  and  ascend- 
ing to  heaven.     As  he  meditates  on  the  Crea- 
tor, ho  finds  him  so  wise,  so  just,  so  good,  so 
lovely,  that  he  cannot  imagine  why  his  heart 
does  not   always    burn   with   flames   of  love 
to  him. 

Such  is  the  effect  of  perseverance  in  a  path 
of  virtue!  Accordingly  we  find  the  greatest 
saints  the  most  eminent  for  humility.  Abra- 
ham durst  not  "  take  upon  him  to  speak  unto 
the  Lord,  because  he  was  only  dust  and  ashes," 
Gen.  xviii.  21.  Job,  "though  he  were  right- 
eous, yet  would  not  answer,  but  made  suppli- 
cation to  his  judge,"  chap.  ix.  15. 

David  "  could  not  stand,  if  the  Lord,  should 
mark  iniquities,"  Ps.  cxxx.  3.  St.  Paul  did 
not  think  he  had  attained,  Phil.  iii.  12.  To 
say  all  in  one  word,  celestial  intelligences,  who 
were  never  embodied,  the  seraphim  placed  im- 
mediately opposite  the  throne  of  God,  with 
two  wings,  ready  to  fly  at  the  command  of  the 
Creator,  have  also  four  wings  to  cover  their 
feet  and  faces,  to  express,  that  their  zeal,  how 
fervent  and  flaming  soever,  cannot  equal  what 
that  God  merits,  whom  they  incessantly  admire 
and  adore. 

5.  Our  fiflh  class  of  proofs  is  taken  from 
the  excellence  of  the  ministi-y.  St.  Paul  was 
not  an  ordinary  Christian:  he  was  the  minister 
of  the  gospel,  and  the  greatness  of  his  charac- 
ter was  to  him  a  ground  of  humility  and  dif- 
fidence. 

Although  the  duties  of  ministers,  and  the 
duties  of  hearers,  are  essentially  the  same; 
though  there  are  not  two  ways  to  heaven,  one 
for  the  pastor,  and  another  for  the  flock,  yet,  it 
is  certain,  ministers  have  more  motives  to  holi- 
ness than  other  men. 

What  would  the  i>coi)le  say,  if  the  minister 
of  the  pulpit,  and  the  minister  of  society,  were 
two  men.''  If  the  minister  of  the  pulpit  de- 
claimed against  the  vanities  of  the  world,  and 
the  minister  of  society  were  worldly?  If  the 
minister  of  the  pulpit  were  a  man,  grave,  se- 
vere, fervent  as  a  seraph:  and  the  minister  of 
society  were  a  man  loose,  and  full  of  worldly 
vices?  Certainly  people  would  say  we  sported 
with  their  credulity;  and  many  a  mouth  would 
thunder  in  our  ears  this  cutting  reproach, 
"  Thou  which  teachest  Jinother,  teacliest  thou 


1« 


THE  NECESSITY  OF 


tSER.  LUI. 


not  thyself?  Thou  that  preachest  a  man  should 
not  steal,  tlost  thou  steal'  Tliou  tliat  ab- 
hori-est  idols,  dost  thou  commit  sacrileg&'" 
Rom.  ii.  21. 

Besides,  a  minister  has  two  works  to  do  in 
regard  to  salvation,  his  own  soul  to  save,  and 
the  souls  of  his  people  to  save.  Each  of  these 
becomes  a  reason  for  his  own  sanctification. 
"  For  tiieir  sakes  I  sanctify  myself,"  said  the 
Saviour  of  the  world,  "that  they  also  might 
be  sanctified,"  Joini  xvii.  19.  Interpreters  un- 
derstand by  this  sanctification,  that  separation 
which  Jesus  Christ  made  of  himself  for  the 
salvation  of  his  church;  but  may  we  not  un- 
derstand the  word  sanctify  in  the  first  part  of 
the  proposition,  a.s  we  understand  the  same 
word  in  the  second?  "  For  their  sakes  1  sanc- 
tify myself,"  is  as  much  as  to  say,  I  obey  thee, 
not  only  because,  being  a  creature,  I  owe  thee 
an  inviolable  fidelity,  but  because,  being  the 
master  and  teacher  of  thy  church,  I  ought  to 
influence  it  by  my  own  example. 

Further,  a  minister  of  the  gospel  has  extra- 
ordinary assistance,  he  is  always  with  God, 
virtue  is  constantly  before  his  eyes,  and  though 
almost  all  other  employments  in  society  have 
connected  with  them  particular  temptations  to 
vice,  the  profession  of  a  merchant  to  self-inte- 
rest, that  of  a  soldier  to  cruelty,  that  of  a  ma- 
gistrate to  pride,  yet  the  ministry  is  itself  an 
inducement  to  virtue.  Such  being  the  impor- 
tance of  our  engagements,  and  tiie  eminence 
of  our  character,  who  can  flatter  himself  with 
having  discharged  all  his  duties.'  Who  can 
venture  to  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven?  Who 
is  not  annihilated  under  a  sense  of  his  imper- 
fections and  frailties?  "  O  Lord,  enter  not  into 
judgment  with  thy  servant,"  Ps.  cxliii.  2. 

Finally,  The  necessity  of  progressive  sanc- 
tification appears  by  the  end  which  God  pro- 
posed in  placing  us  in  this  world.  We  are  of- 
ten troubled  to  conceive  why  God  lodged  man, 
a  creature  so  noble,  in  a  theatre  of  vanity  and 
uncertainty.  What  is  our  life  of  thirty,  forty, 
or  fourscore  years,  to  the  immense  duration  of 
eternity?  How  can  we  reconcile  the  part  wo 
act  here,  with  the  wisdom  of  him  who  placed 
us  here;  and,  if  I  may  speak  so,  the  littleness 
of  the  world  with  the  grandeur  of  its  inhabi- 
tants? What  destination  do  you  a.ssign  to 
maa'  What  end  do  you  attribute  to  Iiis  Crea- 
tor? Why  did  he  place  him  in  this  world?  Was 
it  to  make  him  happy?  But  what!  can  he  be 
made  happy  among  objects  so  very  dispro- 
portional  to  his  faculties?  Are  not  his  fortune 
and  reputation,  his  health  and  his  life,  a  prey 
to  all  human  vicissitudes?  Was  it  to  make  liiiii 
miserable?  But  how  can  this  agree  with  the 
divine  perfections;  with  tiiat  goodness,  liber- 
ality and  beneficence,  which  are  essential  to 
God?  Wa«  it  to  enal)le  him  to  cultivate  arts 
and  sciences'  But  what  relation  is  there  be- 
tween an  occupation  so  mean  and  a  creature  so 
nobla'  Besides,  would  life  then  have  been  so 
short'  Alas,  we  hardly  make  any  progress  in 
artjj  and  sciences,  before  they  become  useless 
to  us!  Before  we  have  well  pa-ssed  out  of  in- 
fancy and  novitiate,  death  puta  a  period  to  our 
projectti,  and  takes  away  from  us  all  the  fruits 
of  learning  and  lubour.  Before  we  have  well 
learned  languages,  death  condemns  us  to  eter- 
nal silence.  Before  we  well  know  the  world,  we 


arc  obliged  to  quit  it;  and  we  die  when  we  are 
just  learning  to  live.  If  the  famous  Theo- 
phrastus,  at  the  age  of  one  hundred  and  seven 
years,  regretted  lite,  becau.sc  he  just  then  began 
to  live  wisely,  what  lamentations  must  other 
men  make?  What  then  was  the  design  of 
God  in  placing  us  here?  Was  it  that  we  should 
form  and  refine  society?  But  how  can  a  soci- 
ety composed  of  creatures  transient  and  im- 
perfect, be  considered  as  a  real  and  substantial 
body  of  bliss?  If  it  has  some  solidity  and  re- 
ality, when  considered  abstractly,  yet  what  is 
it  in  itself?  What  is  it  to  you?  What  is  it  to 
me?  What  is  it  to  any  individual  member? 
Does  not  one  law  reduce  all  to  dust? 

My  brethren,  there  is  only  one  way  out  of 
this  labyrinth.  One  single  answer  is  sutBcieiit 
for  all  these  questions.  This  world  is  a  place 
of  exercise,  this  life  is  a  time  of  trial,  which  is 
given  us  that  we  may  choose  either  eternal 
happiness  or  endless  misery. 

To  this  belong  all  the  different  ideas,  which 
the  Holy  Spirit  gives  us  of  life.  Sometimes  it 
is  a  state  of  traffic,  in  which  eternal  reward  is 
given  for  a  "  cup  of  cold  water  only."  Some- 
times it  is  a  state  of  tribulation,  in  which 
"  light  aftliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment, 
worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory."  Sometimes  it  is  a  pas- 
sage way,  in  which  we  are  to  behave  as 
"  strangers  and  pilgrims."  Sometimes  it  is  an 
economy  of  visitation,  in  wliicli  "richness  of 
goodness,  and  forbearance,  and  long-sufiering, 
are  opened  to  us."  Sometimes  it  is  a  "  race," 
in  which  "all  run,  but  one  receiveth  the 
prize."  Sometimes  it  is  a  figlit,  in  which  we 
cannot  hope  to  conquer,  unless  we  fight  with 
courage  and  constancy. 

To  this  subject  belongs  the  Scriptural  esti- 
mation of  life.  Sometimes  it  speaks  of  life  as 
mean  and  contemptible;  and  at  other  times,  on 
the  contrary,  as  great  and  invaluable.  Some- 
times it  heaps  expression  upon  expression,  im- 
age upon  image,  emblem  upon  emblem,  to 
make  us  consider  it  with  contempt.  It  is  "  a 
shadow,  a  vanity,  a  llower,  a  grass,  a  vapour, 
a  dream,  a  tale,  a  vain  show,  nothing"  before 
God.  And  yet  this  "  vain  shadow,"  this 
"  flower,"  this  "  vapour,"  this  "  dream,"  tliis 
"tale,"  this  "show,"  this  "nothing,"  the 
Scriptures  teach  us  to  consider  as  a  time  for  us 
to  "  redeem,"  as  an  "  accepUible  time,"  as  a 
"day  of  salvation,"  as  a  time  after  which 
there  will  be  "  time  no  longer."  Why  this 
different  estimation?  If  you  consider  life  in 
regard  to  itself,  and  with  a  view  to  the  connex- 
ions we  form,  the  ])lcasureswc  relish,  the  tem- 
I)oral  occupations  we  follow:  if  you  consider  it 
in  regard  to  sceptres  and  thrones,  crowns  and 
establishments  the  most  pompous  and  solid, 
you  cannot  underrate  life.  On  the  contrary, 
if  you  consider  it  in  regard  to  the  great  design 
of  the  Creator,  in  regard  to  the  relation  it  has 
to  eternity,  in  rejrard  to  that  idea  which  we 
have  given  you  of  it,  you  cannot  value  it  too 
highly.  This  world  tliiMi  is  a  place  of  exercise, 
life  is  a  time  of  trial,  given  us  that  wo  might 
choose  eternal  happiness  or  endless  misery. 

This  principle  licing  allowed,  (»iir  doctrine  is 
supported  liy  a  new  cla-ss  of  argmuents;  for  be 
it  granted  that  you  remember  nothing  in  your 
past  life  contrary  to  your  profession  of  Chris- 


Ser.  lui.] 


PROGRESSIVE  RELIGION. 


17 


tianity;  be  it  that  you  resemble  St.  Paul  in  all 
his  excellencies  after  conversion,  and  in  none 
of  tlie  crimes  which  he  committed  before  tiiat 
happy  period;  the  only  conclusion  whicli  you 
have  a  right  to  draw  is,  that  you  have  perform- 
ed a  part  of  your  task,  but  not  that  there  re- 
mains nothing  more  for  you  to  do.  You  are 
nearer  the  end  than  tlicy  wiio  have  not  run  so 
fast  in  the  race  as  you  have,  but  you  have  not 
yet  obtained  the  prize.  You  have  discharged 
the  duties  of  youth,  and  the  duties  of  manhood, 
now  the  duties  of  old  age  remain  to  be  dis- 
charged. You  have  discharged  all  the  duties 
of  health,  now  tiie  duties  of  sickness  and  dying 
remain  to  be  discharged.  This  world  is  a 
place  of  exercise;  while  you  arc  in  it  your  ex- 
ercise is  not  finislied;  life  is  a  time  of  trial;  as 
long  as  you  live  your  trial  remains. 

Let  us  conclude.  Were  we  to  act  rational- 
ly, we  should  always  fix  our  minds  on  these 
truths;  we  should  never  end  a  day  without 
putting  this  question  to  ourselves.  What  pro- 
gress have  I  made  in  virtue.'  Have  I  tiiis  day 
approaclied  the  end  of  my  creation.'  And  as 
the  time  of  my  abode  here  diminishes,  do  I 
advance  in  proportion  to  the  time  that  remains? 
We  should  require  of  ourselves  an  exact  ac- 
count of  every  day,  every  hour,  every  instant 
of  our  duration;  but  this  is  not  the  gospel  of 
most  Christians.  What  we  have  been  propos- 
ing, seem  to  most  hearers  mere  maxims  of  the 
preacher,  more  proper  to  adorn  a  public  dis- 
course, than  to  compose  a  system  of  religion. 

Why  are  not  ecclesiastical  bodies  as  rigid 
and  severe  against  heresies  of  practice,  as  they 
are  against  heresies  of  speculation.'  Certainly 
there  are  heresies  in  morality,  as  well  as  in 
theology.  Councils  and  synods  reduce  the  doc- 
trines of  faith  to  certain  propositional  points, 
and  thunder  anathemas  against  all  who  refuse 
to  subscribe  them.  They  say.  Cursed  be  he 
who  does  not  believe  the  divinity  of  Christ: 
cursed  be  he  who  does  not  believe  hypostatical 
union,  and  the  mystery  of  the  cross;  cursed  be 
he  who  denies  the  inward  operations  of  grace, 
and  the  irresistible  efficacy  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
I  wish  they  would  make  a  few  canons  against 
moral  heresies!  How  many  are  there  of  this 
kind  among  our  people?  Among  our  people 
we  may  put  many  who  are  in  another  class. 
Let  me  make  canons.  In  the  first  I  would  put 
a  heresy  too  common,  that  is,  that  the  calling 
of  a  Christian  consists  less  in  the  practice  of 
virtue,  than  in  abstaining  from  gross  vices; 
and  I  would  say,  if  any  man  think  that  he  suf- 
ficiently answers  the  obligations  of  Christianity, 
by  not  being  avaricious,  oppressive,  and  intem- 
perate, if  he  do  not  allow  that  lie  ought  to  be 
zealous,  fervent,  and  detached  from  the  world, 
let  him  be  accursed.  In  a  second  canon,  I 
would  put  another  heresy,  equally  general,  and 
equally  dangerous,  and  which  regards  the  delay 
of  conversion;  and  I  would  say.  If  any  one 
imagine  that,  after  a  life  spent  in  sin,  a  few  re- 
grets, proceeding  more  from  a  fear  of  death  and 
hell,  than  from  a  principle  of  love  to  God,  are 
sufficient  to  open  the  gates  of  heaven,  let  him 
be  accursed.  In  a  third  canon  I  would  put 
....  fill  up  the  list  yourselves,  my  brethren, 
and  let  us  return  to  our  subject.  To  confine 
one's  self  to  a  certain  circle  of  virtues,  to  stop 
at  a  fixed  point,  to  be  satisfied  with  a  given 
Vol.  il— 3 


degree  of  piety,  is  an  error;  it  is  a  heresy, 
which  deserves  as  many  anathemas,  and  eccle- 
siastical thunders,  as  all  the  others  whicli  have 
been  unanimously  denounced  by  all  Christians. 

My  brethren,  let  us  rectify  our  ideas,  in  or- 
der to  rectify  our  conduct.  "  Let  us  run  with 
patience  the  race  set  before  us,"  let  us  go  on 
till  we  can  say  with  St.  Paul,  "  I  have  finished 
my  course."  Be  not  terrified  at  this  idea  of 
progressive  religion.  Some  great  efforts  must 
have  been  made  by  all  holy  men  in  this  place 
to  arrive  at  that  degree  of  virtue  which  they 
have  obtained;  but  the  hardest  part  of  the 
work  is  done;  henceforward  what  remains  ig 
easy.  The  way  to  heaven  is  narrow  at  the 
entrance,  but  it  widens  as  we  go  on.  The 
yoke  of  Christ  is  heavy  at  first,  but  it  weighs 
little  when  it  has  Ijeen  long  worn. 

After  all  there  is  a  way  of  softening  all  the 
pains  to  which  we  are  exposed,  by  continuing 
our  eflbrts.  St.  Paul  practised  this  art  with 
great  success;  it  consists  in  fixing  tlie  eye  on 
tiie  end  of  the  race.  At  the  end  of  the  race, 
he  saw  two  objects: — The  first  tlie  prize.  How 
easy  to  brave  the  enemies  of  salvation,  when 
the  eye  is  full  of  the  prospect  of  it!  How 
tolerable  appear  the  pains  of  the  present  state, 
when  the  "sufferings  of  the  present  time  are 
compared  with,  and  weighed  against,  the  glory 
that  follows."  Next,  St.  Paul  saw  Jesus  Christ 
at  the  end  of  the  race,  another  object  which 
animated  him.  He  was  animated  by  the  ex- 
ample of  Christ,  to  finish  his  course  with  joy; 
he  was  animated  by  the  assistances  which  sup- 
ported him;  he  was  animated  by  Ihe  promise 
of  Christ  telling  him,  "  He  that  overcometh 
shall  sit  down  in  my  throne;"  lie  was  animated 
by  the  mercy,  which  he  knew,  how  weak  so- 
ever his  efforts  might  be,  would  be  approved 
at  the  tribunal  of  Jesus  Christ,  provided  they 
were  sincere;  for  Jesus  himself  conquered  for 
him,  and  himself  acquired  that  prize  for  the 
apostle  at  which  he  aspired;  in  a  word,  he  was 
animated  by  his  love;  Jesus  Christ  is  at  the 
end  of  the  race,  and  Paul  loved  Jesus  Christ, 
and  longed  to  be  with  him.  I  said,  he  saw 
two  objects,  the  prize  of  victory,  and  Jesus 
Christ;  but  these  make  only  one  object.  St. 
Paul's  prize  is  Jesus  Christ.  Jesus  Christ  is 
Paul's  paradise.  According  to  him,  Christ  is 
the  most  desirable  part  of  celestial  felicity: 
"Whilst  we  are  at  home  in  the  body,  we  are 
absent  from  the  Lord;  we  are  willing  rather  to 
be  absent  from  the  body,  and  to  be  present 
with  the  Lord,"  2  Cor.  v.  6.  8.  "  I  desire  to 
depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,"  Phil.  i.  23,  "  I 
press  toward  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of 
God  in  Christ  Jesus,"  chap.  iii.  14.  This 
thought,  tliat  every  step  he  took  brought  him 
nearer  to  Jesus  Christ,  this  thought  rendered 
him  insensible  to  all  the  fatigue  of  the  race, 
and  enabled  him  to  redouble  his  efforts  to 
arrive  at  the  end. 

O  flames  of  divine  love!  Shall  we  never 
know  you  except  by  the  examples  of  the 
primitive  Christians!  O  flames  of  divine  love, 
which  we  have  so  often  described,  shall  we 
never  feel  you  in  our  own  souls?  Fire  us,  in- 
flame us  witii  your  ardour,  and  make  us  un- 
derstand that  all  thmgs  are  easy  to  the  man  who 
sincerely  loves  God!  God  grant  us  tliis  grace! 
To  him  be  glory  for  ever  and  ever.     Amea. 


18 


THE  MORAL  MARTYR. 


[Ser.  LIV. 


SERMON  LIV. 


THE  MORAL  MARTYR. 


Psalm  cxix.  4G. 

I  will  speak  of  thy  tcslimoiiics  also  before  kings, 
and  Kill  not  be  aahamed. 
Mt  Brethren, 
It  is  not  only  under  the  reiifn  oT  a  tyrant, 
that  religion  involves  ita  disciples  in  persecu- 
tion, it  is  in  times  of  the  greatest  trantpiilhly, 
and  even  when  virtue  seems  to  sit  on  a  throne. 
A  Christian  is  often  subject  to  punishments  dif- 
ferent from  wheels,  and  racks.  People  united 
to  liim  by  the  same  profession  of  religion,  hav- 
ing received  the  same  baptism,  and  called  with 
him  to  aspire  at  the  same  glory,  not  unfre- 
qncntly  press  him  to  deny  Jesus  Christ,  and 
prepare  punislnneiits  for  hiin,  if  he  have  cour- 
age to  confe.ss  him.  Religion  is  proposed  to 
us  in  two  ditferent  points  of  view,  a  point  of 
speculation,  and  a  point  of  practice.  Accord- 
ingly, there  are  two  sorts  of  martyrdom;  a 
martyrdom  for  doctrine,  and  a  martyrdom  for 
morality.  It  is  for  the  la.st  tliat  the  prophet 
prepares  us  in  the  words  of  the  text,  and  to 
the  same  end  I  dedicate  the  sermon  which  I 
am  going  to  address  to  you  to-day.  I  come 
into  the  place  that  affords  a  happy  asylum  for 
confessors  and  martyrs,  to  utter  in  your  hear- 
ing these  words  of  Jesus  Christ,  "  Whosoever 
shall  be  ashamed  of  me,  and  of  my  words,  in 
this  adulterous  and  sinful  generation,  of  him 
also  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed,  when 
he  Cometh  in  the  glory  of  his  Father  with  the 
holy  angels,"  Mark  viii.  38. 

In  order  to  animate  you  with  a  proper  zeal 
for  morality,  and  to  engage  you,  if  necessary, 
to  become  martyrs  for  it,  we  will  treat  of  the 
subject  in  five  different  views. 

r  We  will  show  you  tlie  authors,  or,  as 
they  may  be  justly  denominated,  the  execu- 
tioners, who  punish  men  with  martyrdom  for 
morality. 

II.  The  magnanimity  of  such  as  expose  them- 
selves to  it. 

III.  The  horrors  that  accompany  it. 

IV.  The  obligation  which  engages  men  to 
submit  to  it. 

V.  The  glory  that  crowns  it. 

We  will  explain  tiiese  five  ideas  contained 
in  the  words  of  the  psalmist,  "  I  will  speak  of 
thy  testimonies  before  kings,  and  will  not  be 
ashamed;"  and  we  will  proportion  these  arti- 
cles, not  to  that  extent  to  which  they  naturally 
go,  but  to  the  bounds  prescribed  to  these  ex- 
ercises. 

I.  The  ttulhors,  or  as  we  just  now  called 
them,  the  executioners,  who  inflict  this  punish- 
ment, are  to  be  considered.  The  text  calls 
them  kin^i;  "  I  will  sp«!ak  of  thy  testimonies 
before  kings."  What  king  does  the  psalmist 
mean.'  Saul  to  whoui  piety  was  become  odi- 
oua'  or  any  particular  heathen  prince,  to  whom 
the  persofMitinn  of  Saul  suinotimes  ilruve  our 
prophet  for  refuge.-  The  name  of  the  God  of 
the  Hebrews  was  bl;isi)henieil  among  these 
barbarians;  his  worship  was  called  superstition 


by  them;  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
profess  to  fear  him  and  avoid  contempt. 

It  is  not  ea.sy  to  determine  the  persons  in- 
tended by  the  p.sahnist,  nor  is  it  necessary  to 
confine  the  words  to  eitlier  of  the  senses  given; 
they  may  be  taken  in  a  more  extensive  sense. 
The  word  kin^  in  the  eastern  languages,  as 
well  as  in  those  of  the  western  world,  is  not 
confined  to  kings  jjropcrly  so  called;  it  is 
sometimes  given  to  superiors  of  any  rank. 
Ask  not  the  reason  of  this,  every  language  has 
its  own  genius,  and  custom  is  a  tyrant  who 
seldom  consults  reason  before  he  issues  orders; 
and  who  generally  knows  no  law  but  self-will 
and  caprice.  If  you  insist  on  a  direct  answer 
to  your  inquiry  concerning  the  reason  of  the 
general  use  of  the  term,  I  reply,  tiie  same  pas- 
sion for  despotism  which  animates  kings  on 
the  throne,  usually  inspire  such  individuals  as 
are  a  little  elevated  above  peoi)le  around  them; 
they  corLsider  themselves  as  sovereigns,  and 
pretend  to  regal  homage.  Authority  over  in- 
feriors begins  this  imaginary  royalty,  and  vanity 
finishes  it.  Moreover,  such  as  are  called  petty 
gentry,  in  the  world,  are  generally  more  proud 
and  absolute  than  real  kings;  the  last  frequently 
l)ropose  nothing  but  to  e.xercise  dominion,  but 
the  first  aiui  both  to  exercise  dominion  and  to 
make  a  parade  of  the  exercise,  lest  their  im- 
aginary grandeur  should  pass  unnoticed. 

I  understand,  then,  by  the  vague  term  kings, 
all  who  have  any  pre-eminence  over  the  low- 
est orders  of  men;  and  these  are  they  who  ex- 
ercise tyraimy,  and  inflict  the  martyrdom  fdr 
which  the  prophet  in  the  text  prepares  us.  In 
order  to  comprehend  this  more  fully,  contrast 
two  conditions  in  the  life  of  David.  Remark 
first  the  state  of  mediocrity,  or  rather  happy 
obscurity,  in  which  this  holy  man  was  born. 
Educated  by  a  father,  not  rich,  but  pious,  he 
was  religious  from  his  childhood.  As  he  led  a 
country  life,  he  met  with  none  of  those  snares 
among  his  cattle  which  the  great  world  sets 
for  our  innocence.  He  gave  full  scope  without 
constraint  to  his  love  for  God,  and  could  aft\rm, 
without  hazarding  any  thing,  that  God  was 
supremely  lovely.  What  a  contrast!  This  shep- 
herd was  suddenly  called  to  (juit  his  sheep  and 
his  fields,  and  to  live  with  courtiers  in  the  palace 
of  a  prince.  Wluit  a  society  fora  man  accustom- 
ed to  regulate  his  conversation  by  the  laws  of 
truth,  and  his  conduct  by  those  of  virtue!  What 
a  place  was  this  for  him  to  propose  tiiose  just 
and  beautiful  i)rinciples  wliicii  the  Holy  Spirit 
teaches  in  the  Scriptures,  and  whi(;ii  are  many 
of  them  to  bo  found  in  the  writings  of  the 
psalmist!  "  I  have  seen  the  wicked  in  power, 
and  spreading  himself  like  a  green  bay-tree; 
yet  he  has  j)as3ed  away,  and  lo,  ho  was  not;  I 
sought  him,  and  he  could  not  be  fouud.  Surely 
men  of  high  degree  are  a  lie,  to  be  laid  in  a 
balance  they  are  allogetlier  ligliter  than  vanity. 
1  said,  ye  are  gods,  and  all  of  you  are  the 
diildren  of  the  Most  High;  but  ye  shall  die 
like  men.  Put  not  your  trust  in  a  prince,  in 
wliom  there  is  no  help.  His  breath  gocth  forth, 
he  returneth  to  his  earth,  in  tiiat  very  day 
his  thougiits  perisli.  Ho  tliat  nileth  liis  spirit, 
is  better  than  lie  that  taketli  a  city.  My  son, 
the  son  of  my  woml),  tiie  son  of  my  vows,  give 
not  thy  strength  unto  women,  nor  thy  ways  to 
that  which   dostroyeth   kings.     It   is  not  for 


Ser.  LIV.] 


THE  MORAL  MARTYR. 


19 


kin^,  O  Lemuel,  to  drink  wine,  nor  for  princes 
strong  drink,  lest  they  driniî,  and  forget  the 
law,  and  pervert  tlie  judgment  of  any  of  the 
atUicted."  How  would  these  maxims  he  re- 
ceived at  some  of  your  courts?  Tiiey  were  not 
very  pleasing  at  that  of  Saul;  David  was,  there- 
fore, censured  hy  liini  and  his  fnurtiers  for  pro- 
posing them.  Hear  how  he  expressed  iiim- 
self  in  this  psalm.  "O  Lordl  remove  from 
me  reproacli  and  contemj)t.  Princes  did  sit 
and  speak  against  me,  because  thy  servant  dul 
meditate  in  tliy  statutes.  The  proud  have  had 
me  greatly  in  derision;  yet  hav(!  I  not  declined 
from  thy  law,"  Psa.  cxix.  2-',  2:?.  61. 

II.  Let  us  pass  to  the  second  article,  and 
consider  the  mn^ifanimilij  of  such  as  expose 
themselves  to  tins  martyrdom.  This  is  natu- 
rally included  in  the  form(!r  remark,  concern- 
ing the  executioners  wlio  intlict  tiie  punish- 
ment. My  brethren  it  is  impossible  to  speak 
of  the  testimonies  of  (iod  boforo  tiic  tyrants  in 
question,  without  being  accused  either  of  a 
spirit  of  rebellion,  aversion  to  social  pleasures, 
or  rusticity  and  pedantry;  three  dispositions 
which  the  great  seldom  forgive. 

The  martyr  for  moralily  is  sometimes  taxed 
with  a  spirit  of  rébellion.  Perhaps  you  iniglit 
have  thought  I  spo!:e  extravagantly,  when  1 
alHrmed,  that  most  men  consider  themselves 
as  kings  in  regard  to  their  inferiors.  I  venture, 
however,  to  aliirm  a  greater  paradox  still;  that 
is,  they  consider  themselves  as  gods,  and  de- 
mand such  homage  to  be  paid  to  their  fancied 
divinity  as  is  due  to  none  hut  to  the  true  God- 
1  grant  great  men  do  not  all  assume  the  place  of 
God  with  equal  arrogance.  There  are  not  many 
Pharaohs  who  adopt  this  brutal  language, 
"  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I  sliould  obey  his 
voice?"  Exod.  v.  2.  There  are  but  kv/  Scn- 
naclieribs,  who  are  so  extravagant  as  to  say  to 
the  people  of  God,  "Beware  lest  Hezekiali 
persuade  you,  saying,  The  l^ord  will  deliver  us. 
Hath  any  of  tlie  gods  of  the  nations  delivered 
his  land  out  of  the  hand  of  the  king  of  Assyria? 
Where  are  the  gods  of  Hamath  and  Arphad? 
Where  are  the  gods  of  Sepharvaim?"  Isa. 
xxxvi.  18,  19. 

But,  though  the  great  men  of  the  world  do 
not  always  assume  the  place  of  God  with  so 
much  brutal  insolence,  yet  they  do  assume  it. 
Though  tliey  do  not  say  to  their  inferiors  in  so 
many  words,  Obtxj  vx  rather  than  Gnd,  yet  do 
they  not  say  it  in  effect?  Is  it  possible  to  oji- 
pose  their  fancy  with  impunity?  Is  it  safe  to 
establish  the  riglits  of  God  in  their  presence? 
What  success  had  Elijah  at  the  court  of  Ahah? 
Micaiah  at  that  of  JehosaphaL'  John  the  Bap- 
tist at  that  of  Herod? 

We  need  not  go  back  to  remote  times. 
What  success  have  we  had  among  you,  when 
we  have  undertaken  to  allege  tiie  riglits  of 
God  m  some  circumstiuices?  For  example, 
when  we  have  endeavoured  to  convince  you, 
that  to  aspire  at  the  olHce  of  a  judge,  without 
talents  essential  to  tlie  discharge  of  it,  is  to  in- 
cur the  guilt  of  all  the  unjust  sentences  that 
may  be  pronounced;  that  to  stupify  the  undcr- 
•standing  by  debauchery,  to  drown  re;ison  in 
intemperance,  to  dissipate  the  spirits  by  sensual 
pleasures,  when  going  to  determine  questions 
which  regard  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  mankind, 
is  to  rob  men  of  their  property,  and  to  plunge 


a  dagger  into  their  bosoms;  that  to  be  so  ab- 
sorbed in  forming  public  treatises,  and  in  tlie 
prosperity  of  the  states,  as  to  lose  sight  of  the 
interests  of  religion,  is  equal  to  placing  hope 
in  the  present  life,  and  renouncing  all  expecta- 
tion of  a  life  to  come;  that  to  render  one's 
self  inaccessible  to  the  solicitations  of  widows 
and  orphans,  while  we  till  oIKces  created  for 
their  service,  is  to  usurp  honours  for  the  sake 
of  emoluments;  that  to  suffer  the  publication 
of  scandalous  books,  and  the  practice  of  public 
dchaucher}',  under  pretence  of  toleration  and 
liberty,  is  to  arm  God  against  a  stale,  though 
states  subsist  only  hy  his  protection.  Let  us 
not  repeat  forgotten  grievances,  let  us  not,  by 
multiplying  these  objects,  run  the  hazard  of  in- 
creasing the  number  of  arguments  which  justify 
our  proposition.  "  To  Sjieak  of  the  testimo- 
nies of  God  before  kings,"  is  to  expose  one's 
self  to  a  charge  of  rebellion,  and  to  such  pun- 
ishments as  ought  to  bo  reserved  for  real  in- 
cendiaries and  rebels. 

2.  As  the  great  men  of  the  world  would 
have  IIS  respect  their  rank,  so  they  are  equally 
jealous  of  their  pleasures;  and  most  men  form- 
ing maxims  of  pleasure  more  or  less  lax,  ac- 
cording as  their  rank  is  more  or  less  eminent, 
licentiousness  grows  along  with  credit  and  for- 
tune. A  man  who  made  a  scruple  of  being 
absent  from  an  exercise  of  religion,  when  he 
could  hardly  provide  bread  for  the  day,  has 
not  even  attended  the  Lord's  supper  since  he 
became  master  of  a  thousand  a  year.  A  man 
whose  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  fre- 
quent some  companies,  when  he  walked  afoot, 
is  become  a  subscriber  to  public  gaming  houses 
now  he  keeps  a  carriage.  A  man  who  would 
have  blushed  at  immodest  language  in  private 
life,  keeps,  without  scruple,  a  prostitute,  now 
he  is  become  a  public  man.  Lift  your  eyes  a 
little  higher,  lift  them  above  metaphorical 
kings,  and  look  at  kings  properly  so  called. 
Adultery,  incest,  and  other  abominations,  more 
fit  for  beasts  than  men?  what  am  I  saying? 
abominations  to  which  beasts  never  abandon 
themselves,  and  of  which  men  only  are  capable, 
are  not  these  abominations  considered  as  sports 
in  the  palaces  of  some  princes?  This  is  what 
I  said,  licentiousness  increases  with  credit  and 
fortune.  The  maxims  which  men  form  con- 
cerning pleasures,  are  more  or  less  loose  ac- 
cording as  their  rank  is  more  or  less  eminent. 
In  general,  that  detachment  from  the  world 
which  religion  proposes  to  produce  in  our 
hearts,  that  spirit  of  repentance  with  which  it 
aims  to  inspire  us,  those  images  of  death  which 
it  perpetually  sets  before  us,  those  plans  of  fe- 
licity disengaged  from  matter,  to  which  it  in- 
vites us;  all  these  ideas  are  tasteless  to  the 
great;  we  cannot  propose  them  amidst  their 
intoxicating  pleasures  without  being  considered 
as  enemies  of  pleasure,  as  scourges  to  society. 

3.  When  we  speak  of  the  testimonies  of  God 
before  the  great,  we  are  taxed  with  rusticity 
and  pedantry.  There  is,  among  men,  a  mis- 
named science,  without  which  we  cannot  ap- 
pear great  in  the  world;  it  is  called  politeness, 
or  good-breeding.  This  science  consists  in 
adopting,  at  least  in  feigning  to  adopt,  all  the 
passions  and  prejudices  of  the  great,  in  taking 
such  forms  as  they  like,  in  regulating  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  by  their  caprice,  in  condemn- 


20 


THE  MORAL  MARTYR. 


[Ser.  LIV. 


ing  what  they  condemn,  and  in  approving  what 
they  approve.  In  one  word,  politeness,  in  the 
style  of  the  great,  is  that  suppleness  which 
keeps  a  man  always  prepared  to  cliango  his 
gystem  of  morality  and  religion  according  to 
their  fancies.  Not  to  have  this  disposition,  to 
have  invariable  ideas,  and  invariable  objects 
of  pursuit,  to  bo  inconvertible  in  religion,  to 
have  the  laws  of  God  always  before  our  eyes, 
or.  as  tlie  Scripture  speaks,  to  "  walk  before 
him,"  is  in  the  style  of  people  of  the  world,  to 
have  no  breeding,  to  be  a  bad  courtier,  to  bo 
possessed  with  that  kind  of  folly  which  renders 
it  proper  for  us,  though,  not  to  be  confined  with 
lunatics,  yet  to  be  banislied  from  the  company 
of  people  of  birth  and  quality,  as  they  call 
themselves,  and  to  be  stationed  in  closets  and 
cells. 

III.  Thus  we  have  seen  both  the  execution- 
ers who  punish  morality  with  martyrdom,  and 
the  magnanimity  which  exposes  a  man  to  the 
punishment:  and  tiiese  are  sufficient  to  expose 
our  third  article,  the  hoirors,  that  accompany 
it.  I  have  no  ideas  sufficiently  great  of  the 
bulk  of  my  auditors,  to  engage  me  to  be  very 
exact  in  expounding  this  third  article.  I  fear, 
were  I  to  enlarge  on  this  part  of  my  subject, 
I  should  raise  insurinountal)le  obstacles  to  the 
end  which  I  should  prop(jse  in  opening  the 
subject.  Forgive  an  opinion  so  inglorious  to 
yoiir  piety,  but  too  well  adjusted  to  the  imper- 
fections of  it.  We  dare  not  form  such  a  plan 
for  you  as  Jesus  Christ  formed  for  St.  Paul, 
when  speaking  of  this  new  proselyte  to  Anani- 
as, he  told  him,  "  I  will  show  him  how  great 
things  he  must  sutFer  for  my  name's  sake," 
Acts  ix.  16.  Martyrdom  for  doctrines,  I  grant, 
seems  at  first  more  siiocking  than  martyrdom 
for  morality;  but,  taken  altogether,  it  is  per- 
haps less  insupportable.  To  die  for  religion  is 
not  always  the  worst  tiling  in  the  calling  of  a 
Clirisliaij.  Virtue  wakes  ij|)  into  vigour  in 
these  circumstances,  and  renders  itself  invinci- 
ble by  its  efforts.  Even  worldly  honours  some- 
times come  to  embolden.  That  kind  of  he- 
roism which  is  attributed  to  a  man  making 
such  a  splendid  sacrifice,  supports  under  ex- 
quisite torments. 

There  is  another  kind  of  suffering,  longer 
and  more  fatiguing,  and  therefore  more  dilh- 
«•.ult.  It  is  a  profession,  a  detail,  a  trade  of  suf- 
fering, if  I  may  express  myself  so.  To  see  one's 
self  called  U»  live  among  men  whom  we  are  al- 
ways obliged  to  ('ontradict  u|)()n  subjects  for 
which  they  discover  the  greatest  sensibility;  to 
be  excluded  from  all  their  |)leasures;  never  to 
bo  admitted  into  their  company,  except  when 
they  are  under  afflictions  and  restraints;  to 
hear  onii's  looks  and  habits  turned  into  ridi- 
cule, as  they  said  of  the  ijropliet  Klisha,  "  lb; 
is  a  liairy  man,  and  girt  with  a  girdle  of  leather 
about  his  loins,"  2  Kings  i.  8:  What  a  punish- 
ment! Men  who  have  withstood  all  the  terrors 
of  racks  anddimgeons,  liave  yielded  to  the  vio- 
lence of  this  kind  of  persecution  and  martyr- 
dom. Wo  will  not  be  insensible  of  the  frailty 
of  our  auditors,  and  therefore,  we  will  omit  a 
discussion  of  the  acute  and  horrid  pains  of  this 
kind  of  martyrdom. 

IV.  We  are  to  treat,  fourthly,  of  the  obliga- 
tion of  speaking  of  the  /("s/ii/ioïiifS  of  God  be- 
fore kings.     We  ground  thin  on  the  nature  of 


this  duty.  You  have  heard,  that  it  consists  in 
urging  the  rights  of  God  before  great  men; 
and,  thougii  it  be  at  the  hazard  of  all  the  com- 
forts and  pleasures  of  life,  in  professing  to  re- 
spect the  moral  part  of  religion.  We  do  not 
mean  an  unseasonable  and  indiscreet  manner 
of  doing  so.  The  duty  of  confes.sing  Jesus 
Christ  before  tyrants,  in  regard  to  his  doctrines, 
has  its  bounds;  and  so  has  tliat  of  confessing 
his  morality.  There  was  more  enthusiasm 
than  true  zeal  in  such  ancient  confessors  as 
voluntarily  presented  themselves  before  perse- 
cutors, and  intrigued  fur  the  glory  of  martyr- 
dom. So,  in  regard  to  the  present  subject,  in 
our  opinion,  it  is  not  requisite  we  should  in- 
trude into  the  company  of  rtie  great  to  reprove 
them,  when  we  have  reason  to  believe  our  re- 
bukes would  be  injurious  to  ourselves,  and  con- 
tribute nothing  to  the  glory  of  religion.  All 
the  actions  of  a  Christian  should  be  directed  by 
prudence.  We  only  expect  you  should  neTer 
blush  for  the  precepts  of  your  great  Lawgiver, 
never  contribute,  by  mean  adulation,  or  pro- 
found silence,  to  the  violation  of  them;  in  short, 
that  you  would  openly  profess  to  fear  God  al- 
ways when  your  profession  is  likely  to  con- 
vince a  sinner,  or  to  convert  a  saint. 

This  duty  carries   its  own   evidence   along 
with  it.     Let  us  here  compare  the  doctrines 
of  religion  with  the  precepts  of  it.     The  pre- 
cepts of  religion  are  as  essential  as  the  doc- 
trines; and   religion  will  as  certainly  sink  if 
the  morality  be  subverted,  as  if  the  theology 
be  undermined.     Moreover,  doctrines  are  ab- 
solutely useless  without  morality,  and  the  doc- 
trines of  religion  are  only  proposed  to  us  as 
grounds  of  the  duties  of  it.     The  first  doctrine 
of  religion,  the  foundation  of  all  the  rest,  is, 
that   there    is   only  one    God;  but  why  does 
God  require  us  to  admit  the  doctrine  of  his 
unity.'     It  is  that  we  may  not  divide  supreme 
love,  the  character  of  supreme  adoration,  be- 
tween the  Supreme  Being  and  creatures;  for 
on  this  subject  it  is  said,  "  thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thine  heart."     Now, 
were  I   to   deny  this  second   proposition,  we 
ought  not   to   divide  between    God  and   any 
creature  that  love  which  is  the  essence  of  su- 
preme  adoration,  should    I  be   a  less  odious 
apostate  than  if  I  denied  the  first'     One  of  the 
most  essential  points  of  our  divinity  is,  that 
there  is  a  future  state.     Hut  why  does  God  re- 
quire us  to  believe  a  future  stater     It  is  that 
we  should  regard  the  present  life  as  the  least 
considerable  period  of  our  duration.     If  then  I 
deny  this  pradical  proposition,  tlio  present  life 
is  the  least  considerable  part  of  our  duration, 
am  I  an  apostate  less  odious  than  if  I  deny  thi.'t 
])r<)position  of  speculation,  there    is  a  future 
slaUi?     We  say  the  same  of  all  other  doctrines. 
If  it  bo  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  confess  the 
doctrines  of  religion,  and  if  a  siinjilc  genuflex- 
ion, and  the  offering  of  one  grain  of  incense, 
be  acts  of  denial  of  these  truths  of  speculation, 
I  ask,  are  not  one  act  of  adulation,  one  sjnile 
of  approbation,  one  gesture  of  acquiescence, 
also  acts  of  denial  in  regard  to  practical  lruth&' 
Most  certainly.    In  times  of  persecution  it  was 
necessary  to  lift  up  the  standard  of  Josus  Christ, 
to  confess  him  before  Herod  and  Pilate,  and 
before  all  who  took  these   persecutors  of  the 
church  for  their  examples.     In  like  manner, 


SïR-  LIV.] 


THE  MORAL  MARTYR. 


21 


while  the  church  enjoys  the  most  profound 
peace,  if  innocence  be  oppressed,  if  we  see 
modesty  attacked,  if  we  hear  the  sophisms  of 
sin,  we   must  learn  to  say,   each  in  his  pro- 

fer  sphere,  I  am  a  Christian,  I  hato  calumny, 
abhor  oppression,  I  detest  profaneness  and 
licentiousness,  and  so  on. 

The  further  you  carry  this  comparison  of 
martyrdom  for  doctrines  with  martyrdom  for 
duties,  the  more  fully  will  you  perceive,  tliat 
the  same  reasons  which  establish  the  necessity 
of  the  first,  confirm  that  of  the  last,  and  that 
apostates  from  morality  are  no  less  odious  than 
those  from  divinity.  Let  us  for  a  moment  ex- 
amine what  makes  the  first  martyrdom  neces- 
sary, I  mean  that  for  doctrines.  Some  reasons 
regard  the  believers  themselves.  Our  attach- 
ment to  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  may  be 
doubtful  to  ourselves,  before  we  suffer  for  it. 
Martyrdom  is  a  trial  of  this  attachment.  "  Be- 
loved, think  it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery 
trial  which  is  to  try  you,  as  though  some  strange 
thing  happened  unto  you,"  1  Pet.  iv.  12.  Some 
regard  the  spectators,  in  whose  presence  God 
calls  his  children  to  suffer  for  religion.  Chris- 
tians have  made  more  disciples  to  the  true  re- 
ligion, by  suffering  persecution,  than  tyrants 
have  taken  from  it  by  persecuting.  This  is  a 
second  view  of  martyrdom.  A  martyr  may 
say,  with  his  divine  Master,  "I,  if  I  be  lifted 
up,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me,"  John  xii.  32. 
Some  of  these  reasons  regard  the  honour  of 
religion,  for  vv^hich  God  calls  us  to  suffer. 
What  can  be  more  glorious  for  it  than  that 
peace,  and  joy,  and  firmness,  with  which  it  in- 
spires its  martyrs?  How  ravishing  is  this  re- 
ligion, when  it  supports  its  disciples  under  the 
most  cruel  persecutions!  How  truly  great  does 
it  appear,  when  it  indemnifies  them  for  the  loss 
of  fortune,  rank,  and  life;  when  it  makes  them 
see,  through  a  shower  of  stones,  the  object  of 
tlieir  hope,  and  impels  them  to  exclaim  with 
St.  Stephen,  "  Behold,  I  see  the  heavens  open- 
ed, and  the  Son  of  Man  standing  on  the  right 
hand  of  God!"  Acts  vii.  56.  This  is  a  third 
view  of  martyrdom,  and  it  would  be  as  easy  to 
increase  the  list  as  it  is  to  make  the  applica- 
tion. Let  us  apply  to  martyrdom  for  duties, 
what  we  have  said  concerning  martyrdom  for 
doctrines,  and  we  shall  be  obliged  to  conclude, 
that  the  same  reasons  establish  the  necessity  of 
both. 

Let  us  not  pass  lightly  over  this  article.  If 
there  be  a  martyrdom  of  morality,  how  many 
apostles  have  we  among  us?  How  often  have 
we  denied  our  holy  religion?  How  often,  when 
it  has  been  jeeringly  said  to  us,  "  Thou  also 
wast  with  Jesus,"  have  we  sneakingly  replied, 
"  I  know  not  what  thou  sayesL'" 

V.  We  come  to  our  last  article,  the  crown 
of  moral  martyrdom.  Here  a  new  order  of 
objects  present  themselves  to  our  meditation. 
Pardon  me,  if  I  cannot  help  deploring  the  loss 
or  the  suspension  of  tliat  voice  with  which  for 
three  and  twenty  years  I  have  announced  the 
testimonies  of  God,  so  as  to  be  clearly  heard  at 
the  remotest  parts  of  this  numerous  auditory. 
However,  I  will  try  to  present  to  you  at  least  a 
few  of  the  truths  which  I  dare  not  undertake 
to  speak  of  in  their  utmost  extent. 

The  martyrdom  of  morality!  A  man  who 
can  say  to  God,  as  our  prophet  said,  "  I  will 


speak  of  thy  testimonies  before  kings,  and  will 
not  be  aishamed,"  finds  a  rich  reward,  first  in 
the  ideas  which  a  sound  reason  gives  him  of 
stiame  and  glory;  secondly,  in  the  testimony  of 
his  own  conscience;  thirdly,  in  the  approba- 
tion of  good  people;  and  lastly,  in  the  prero- 
gatives of  martyrdom.  These,  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press myself,  are  four  jewels  of  his  crown. 

1 .  J^otims  of  shame  and  glory  are  not  arbi- 
trary, they  are  founded  on  the  essence  of  those 
things  to  which  they  are  related;  on  these  re- 
lations they  depend,  and  not  on  the  caprice  of 
different  understandings.  My  first  relation  is 
that  which  I  have  to  God,  it  is  the  relation  of 
a  creature  to  his  Creator.  The  duty  of  this 
relation  is  that  of  the  most  profound  submis- 
sion. My  glory  is  to  discharge  this  duty,  and 
it  is  my  shame  to  violate  it.  My  second  rela- 
tion is  that  which  I  have  to  men,  a  relation 
between  beings  formed  in  the  same  image,  sub- 
ject to  the  same  (îod,  and  exposed  to  the  same 
miseries.  The  duty  of  this  relation  is  that  of 
treating  men  as  I  wish  they  would  treat  me; 
or,  to  use  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ,  "  of  doing 
to  them  whatsoever  I  would  they  should  do 
to  me,"  Matt.  vii.  12.  It  is  my  glory  to  dis- 
charge this  duty,  and  my  shame  to  violate  it; 
and  so  of  the  rest.  These  ideas  are  not  arbi- 
trary, they  are  founded  in  the  nature  of  things. 
No  mortal,  no  potentate  lias  a  right  to  change 
them.  If,  tiien,  the  great  reçrard  me  with  dis- 
dain, when  I  answer  to  my  relations,  and  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  them,  I  will  not  be  asham- 
ed. The  contempt  which  this  conduct  brings 
upon  me,  falls  back  upon  my  despiser,  because 
shame  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  violating 
these  duties,  and  because  glory  is  a  necessary 
consequence  of  practising  them. 

2.  The  martyrdom  of  morality  is  rewarded 
by  the  testimony  of  conscience,  and  by  the  inef- 
fable joys  with  which  the  heart  is  overwhelm- 
ed. While  the  tribunals  of  the  great  condemn 
the  Christian,  an  inward  judge  absolves  him; 
and  the  decrees  of  the  former  are  reversed  by 
the  latter.  "  Our  rejoicing  is  this,  the  testimo- 
ny of  our  conscience.  I  suffer;  nevertheless  I 
am  not  ashamed,  for  I  know  on  whom  I  have 
believed,"  2  Cor.  i.  12;  2  Tiin.  i.  12. 

3.  Tlie  moral  martyr  is  rewarded  by  tlie  ap- 
probation of  good  people.  Indeed,  suffrages 
will  never  be  unanimous.  There  will  always 
be  in  the  world  two  opposite  systems,  one  of 
virtue,  another  of  sin.  Tiie  partisans  of  a  sys- 
tem of  sin  will  always  condemn  the  friends  of 
virtue  as  the  friends  of  virtue  will  always  con- 
demn the  partisans  of  sin.  You  cannot  be  con- 
sidered in  the  same  light  by  two  such  different 
classes  of  judges.  What  the  first  account  in- 
famous, the  last  call  glory;  and  the  last  will 
cover  you  with  glory  for  what  the  first  call 
your  shame.  If  you  be  obliged  to  choose  one 
of  the  two  parties  to  judge  you,  can  you  possi- 
bly hesitate  a  moment  on  which  to  fix  your 
choice?  The  prophet  indemnified  himself  by 
an  intercourse  with  the  people  of  God,  for  the 
injury  done  him  by  the  great.  "  I  am,"  said  he, 
"a  companion  of  all  them  that  fear  thee,  and 
of  them  that  keep  thy  precepts,"  Ps.  cxix.  33. 
Sutler  me  to  sanctify  here  the  profane  praise 
which  Lucan  gave  Pompey;*     "  The  gods  are 

*  Victrex  Causa  Deis  Placuit;  sed  VicU  Catoni. 


22 


THE  FATAL  CONSEQUENCES  OF 


[Ser.  LV. 


for  Cesar,  but  Cato  is  for  Pompey."  Yes,  the 
approbation  of  Cato  is  preferable  to  that  of  the 
gods!  I  mean  those  imaginary  gods,  who  fre- 
quently usurp  the  rights  of  the  true  Cod. 

In  fine,  tiie  martyr  for  morality  is  rewarded 
by  the  prcrofi:(ith'es  of  martyrdom.  It  would 
be  inconvenient,  in  the  close  of  a  sermon,  to 
discuss  a  question  that  would  require  a  whole 
discourse;  1  mean  that  concerning  degrees  of 
glory,  hut  that,  if  there  be  degrees  of  glory, 
the  highest  will  be  bestowed  on  martyrs,  will 
admit  of  no  dispute.  This,  1  think,  may  be 
proved  from  many  pa.ssages  of  Scripture.  St. 
John  seems  to  have  taken  pains  to  establish 
this  doctrine  in  tlie  Revelation:  "  Ho  that 
overcometh,  and  keepeth  my  works  unto  the 
end,  to  him  will  I  give  power  over  the  nations, 
and  he  shall  rule  them  with  a  rod  of  iron;  as 
the  vessel  of  a  potter  shall  they  be  broken  into 
shivers,"  chap.  ii.  26,  27.  This  regards  mar- 
tyrs, and  this  seems  to  promise  them  pre-emi- 
nence. "  heboid  I  come  quickly;  hold  that 
fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy 
crown.  Him  tliat  overcometh  will  I  make  a 
pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he  shall 
go  no  more  out;  and  I  will  write  upon  him  the 
name  of  my  God,  and  the  name  of  the  city  of 
my  God,  which  is  new  Jerusalem,  which  com- 
eth  down  out  of  heaven  from  my  God,"  chap. 
iii.  11,  12.  This  regards  martyrs,  and  this 
seerns  to  promise  them  pre-eminence.  "  What 
are  these  which  are  arrayed  in  white  robes? 
and  whence  came  they?  These  are  they  which 
came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  wash- 
ed their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they  before 
the  throne  of  God,"  chap.  vii.  13 — 15.  This 
regards  martyrs,  and  this  also  seems  to  promise 
them  pre-eminence. 

Christians,  perhaps  your  minds  are  offended 
at  the  gospel  of  this  day.  Perhaps  you  are 
terrified  at  the  career  which  wo  have  been 
opening  to  you.  Perhaps  you  are  inwardly 
murmuring  at  this  double  martyrdom.  Ah! 
rather  behold  "  the  great  cloud  of  witnesses" 
with  which  you  are  compassed  about,  and  con- 
gratulate yourselves  that  you  fight  under  the 
same  standard,  and  aspire  at  the  same  crown. 
Above  all,  "look  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  faith,  who  endured  such  contradic- 
tion of  sinners  against  himself;"  and  wiio,  as 
the  same  apostle  Paul  speaks,  not  only  "  en- 
dured the  cross,"  but  also  "  despised  the 
shame."  Hark!  lie  speaks  to  you  from  the 
goal,  and  in  this  animating  language  «addresses 
you,  "  If  any  man  hear  my  voice,  1  will  come 
in  to  him.  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I 
grant  to  sit  witii  mo  in  iny  throne,  even  as  1 
also  overcame,  and  am  set  down  with  my  Fa- 
ther in  his  throne,"  Rev.  iii.  20,  21.  lîappy 
you,  if  you  be  accessible  to  such  noble  motives! 
Happy  we,  if  wo  ho  aUlo  to  say  to  God,  in 
that  solt.'mn  day  in  which  he  will  render  to 
every  one  according  to  his  works,  "  I  have 
preached  righteousness  in  the  great  congrega- 
tion. Lo,  I  have  not  refrained  my  lips,  O 
Lord,  thou  knowest;  I  iiave  not  hid  thy  righte- 
ousness witliin  my  heart,  I  have  declared  thy 
faithfulness  and  tliy  salvation,  I  have  not  con- 
cealed thy  loving  kindness!  Withhold  not 
thou  thy  tender  mercies  from  me,  O  Lord!" 
God  grant  us  this  grace.     Ainen. 


SERMON  LV. 


THE  FATAL  CONSEQUENCES  OF  A 
BAD  EDUCATION. 


1  Samuel  iii.  12,  13. 
In  that  ilaij,  I  trill  perforin  ac^tiin.it  Eli,  all  things 
irhich  1  have  spokin  concerning  his  house; 
V'hen  I  begin,  I  trill  also  make  an  end.  For 
I  have  told  him,  that  I  trill  judge  his  house  for 
ever,  for  the  iniquity  which  he  knotrelh;  be- 
cause his  sons  made  themselves  rile  and  he  re- 
strained them  not. 

TiiiisF.  words  are  part  of  a  discourse  which 
God  addressed  to  young  Samuel  in  a  vision, 
the  whole  history  of  which  is  well  known  to 
us  all.  We  intend  to  fî.K  our  chief  attention 
on  the  mi.sery  of  a  parent,  who  neglects  the 
education  of  his  children:  but  before  we  con- 
sider the  subject  in  this  point  of  view,  we  will 
make  three  remarks  tending  to  elucidate  the 
history.  The  crimes  of  the  sons  of  Eli,  the 
indulgence  of  the  unhappy  father,  and  the 
punishment  of  that  indulgence,  demand  our 
attention. 

Observe  the  ci-ime.s  of  the  sons  of  Eli.  They 
supported  their  debaucheries  by  the  victims 
whicii  the  i)eople  brought  to  the  tabernacle  to 
be  offered  in  sacrifice.  Tlielaw  assigned  them 
the  shoulders  and  the  breasts  of  all  the  beasts 
sacrifined  for  peace-offerings:  but,  not  content 
with  these,  they  seized  the  portions  wiiich  God 
had  appointed  to  such  as  brought  the  offerings, 
and  which  he  had  commanded  them  to  eat  in 
his  presence,  to  signify  their  communion  with 
him.  They  drew  these  portions  with  flesh- 
hooks  out  of  the  caldrons,  in  which  they  were 
boiling.  Sometimes  they  took  them  raw,  that 
they  might  have  an  opportunity  of  preparing 
them  to  their  taste;  and  thus  by  serving  them- 
selves before  God,  they  discovered  a  contempt 
for  those  just  and  charitable  ends  which  God 
had  in  view,  when  he  ordained  tiiat  his  minis- 
ters should  live  on  a  part  of  tiie  sacrifices. — 
God,  by  providing  a  table  for  the  priests  in  his 
own  house,  intended  to  make  it  appear,  that 
tliey  had  the  honour  of  being  his  domestics, 
and,  so  to  speak,  that  they  lived  on  his  reve- 
nue. This  was  a  benevolent  design.  God  also, 
by  appointing  the  i)riesls  to  eat  after  they  had 
sacrificed,  intended  to  make  them  understand 
that  he  was  their  sovereign,  and  the  princi|)al 
object  of  all  the  ceremonies  performed  in  his 
palace.     Tlie.se  were  just  views. 

The  exccs.ses  of  the  table  generally  prepare 
the  way  for  debaudiery;  and  the  sons  of  Eli 
having  admitted  the  first,  had  fillen  into  the 
last,  so  that  tiicy  abused  "  the  women  that  as- 
sembled at  the  door  of  the  tabernacle  of  the 
congregation,"  clia]).  ii.  22;  and  to  sucii  a  de- 
gree had  tlicy  carried  these  enormities  that  the 
people,  who  had  been  used  to  frequent  the  holy 
place  only  for  the  ]>urposo  of  rendering  hom- 
age to  Aimighty  Gtid,  were  drawn  thither  by 
the  abominable  desire  of  gratifying  the  inclina- 
tions of  his  uiuvortiiy  ministers.  Such  were 
the  crimes  of  the  sons  of  Eli. 

Let  us  observe  next  the  indulgence  of  the  pa- 
rent.    Ho  did  not  wholly  neglect  to  correct  his 


Ser.  LV.] 


A  BAD  EDUCATION. 


23 


Bons,  for  tho  reproofs  he  gave  them  are  record- 
ed in  tho  second  chapter.  "  Why  do  ye  siicii 
things?"  said  ho  to  them,  "  for  I  hear  of  your 
evil  dcahnjrs  by  all  this  people.  Do  not  so  my 
sons,  for  it  is  no  good  report  that  1  licar."  To 
perform  a  duty  of  sucl»  imi)ortance  witli  so 
much  indilierence,  was  equal  to  an  encourage- 
ment of  the  sin.  T^li  niado  use  of  petitions 
and  exhortations,  when  he  ought  to  have  ap- 
plied sharp  reproofs,  and  alarming  threaten- 
ings.  lie  censured  and  rebuked,  wiien  he 
ought  to  have  anatheniali7#d  and  thundered: 
accordingly,  after  the  Holy  Spirit  had  related 
the  reproofs  wiiich  Eli,  in  liio  words  just  now 
cited,  addressed  to  his  sons,  ho  tells  us  in  tlie 
text,  by  a  seeming  contradiction,  hut  in  words 
full  of  truth  and  good  sense,  that  Eli  "  restrain- 
ed them  not." 

Observe  thirdly  what  terrible  punishments 
this  criminal  indulgence  drew  down  upon  the 
guilty  father,  the  i)rotligate  sons,  and  even  the 
whole  people  under  their  direction.  A  prophet 
had  before  denounced  these  judgments  against 
Eli,  in  order  to  engage  him  to  prevent  the  re- 
petition of  the  crimes,  and  the  infliction  of  the 
punishments.  "  Wherefore  honourest  thou  thy 
sons  above  me?"  said  the  man  of  God.  "  1 
said,  indeed,  that  tliy  house,  and  the  house  of 
thy  father,  should  walk  before  me  for  ever: 
but  behold  the  days  come  that  I  will  cut  off 
thine  arm,  and  the  arm  of  thy  father's  house, 
tliat  there  shall  not  bo  an  old  man  in  thine 
house.  And  thou  shalt  see  an  enemy  in  my 
habitation,  in  all  the  wealth  which  God  shall 
give  Israel.  And  the  man  of  thine,  whom  I 
shall  not  cut  off  from  mine  altar,  shall  be  to 
consume  thine  eyes,  and  to  grieve  thine  heart. 
And  tiiis  shall  be  a  sign  unto  thee,  thy  two 
sons,  Hophrii  and  Phinehas  in  one  day  shall 
both  of  them  die,"  chap.  ii.  29,  &c. 

These  threatenings  were  accomplished  in  all 
their  rigour.  The  arm  is  in  Scripture  an  em- 
blem of  strength,  and  when  the  prophet  threat- 
ened Eli,  that  the  liOrd  would  cut  oft'  his  mm, 
and  the  arm  of  his  father's  house,  he  meant  to 
foretell  that  the  family  of  this  priest  should 
fall  into  decay.  Hoplmi  and  Phinehas  perished 
in  battle  when  the  Philistines  conquered  the  Is- 
raelites. Ahitub  and  Ichabod,  the  sons  of  Phi- 
nehas, lived  only  a  few  years  after  the  death 
of  their  father.  If  we  believe  a  tradition  of 
the  Jews,  this  threatening  was  accomplished 
many  ages  after  it  was  uttered.  We  are  told 
in  the  Talmud,  that  there  was  at  Jerusa- 
lem a  family,  in  which  no  one  outlived  the 
eighteenth  year  of  his  age;  and  that  a  famous 
Rabbi  found  by  inquiring  into  the  origin  of  that 
family,  that  it  descended  from  Eli.  A  rival, 
Zadok,  was  made  high  priest  instead  of  Abia- 
thar,  a  descendant  of  Eli.  We  are  able  to 
prove  by  very  exact  registers  that  the  high 
priesthood  continued  in  the  family  of  Zadok 
not  only  from  the  building  of  the  temple  to  the 
destruction  of  it,  that  is  to  say  for  the  space 
of  four  hundred  years,  but  even  to  the  time  of 
Antiochus  Epiphanes.  The  rest  of  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Eli,  the  victory  obtained  by  the 
Philistines,  the  taking  of  the  ark,  the  confusion 
which  brought  on  the  labour  and  the  death  of 
tiie  wife  of  Phinehas,  who  expired,  "saying, 
name  the  ciiild  Ichabod,  for  the  glory  is  de- 
parted  from   Israel,"  chap.   iv.    19,  &c.    the 


violent  death  of  Eli;  all  these  events  are  fully 
known. 

I  hasten  to  the  chief  design  of  this  discourse. 
Tiie  extreme  rigour  which  God  used  towards 
Eli,  and  tho  terrible  judgments  with  which 
he  jiunished  the  indulgence  of  this  unhappy 
parent,  seemed  to  oflend  some  who  have  not 
attended  to  the  great  guilt  of  a  [tarent,  who 
neglects  to  devote  his  children  to  God  by  a  holy 
education.  I  am  going  to  endeavour  to  remove 
this  offence,  and,  in  order  to  do  so,  I  shall  not 
conftne  myself  to  my  text,  but  shall  treat  of 
the  s(d)ject  at  large,  and  show  you,  as  our  time 
will  allow,  first,  the  crimes  and  miseries  of  a 
j)arent,  who  neglects  the  education  of  his  fami- 
ly; and  secondly,  the  means  of  preventing 
lliem.  We  will  direct  our  reflections  so  that 
they  may  instruct  not  only  heads  of  families, 
but  all  our  hearers,  and  so  that  what  we  shall 
say  on  the  education  of  children,  by  calling  to 
mind  the  faults  committed  in  our  own,  may 
enable  us  to  correct  them. 

To  neglect  the  education  of  our  children  is 
to  be  ungrateful  to  God,  whose  wonderful  power 
created  and  preserved  them.  With  what  mar- 
vellous care  does  a  kind  Providence  watch 
over  the  formation  of  our  infants,  and  adjust 
all  the  different  parts  of  their  bodies? 

With  what  marvellous  care  does  a  kind  Pro- 
vidence provide  for  their  first  wants:  for  at  first 
they  are  like  those  idols,  of  which  the  prophet 
speaks,  "  they  have  eyes  and  see  not,  they 
have  ears  and  hear  not,  they  have  feet  and 
cannot  walk."  Frail,  infirm,  and  incapable 
of  providing  for  their  wants,  they  find  a  suffi- 
cient supply  in  those  feelings  of  humanity  and 
tenderness  with  which  nature  inspires  all  hu- 
man kind.  Who  can  help  admiring  that,  at  a 
time  when  infants  have  nothing  that  can  please, 
God  enables  them  to  move  the  compassion  of 
their  parents,  and  to  call  them  to  their  succour 
by  a  language  more  eloquent  and  more  pa- 
thetic than  the  best  studied  discourses? 

With  what  marvellous  care  does  a  kind  Pro- 
vidence preserve  them  amidst  a  multitude  of 
accidents  which  seem  to  conspire  together  to 
snatch  them  away  in  their  tenderest  infancy, 
and  in  all  their  succeeding  years.  Who  but  a 
Being  almighty  and  all-merciful  could  preserve 
a  machine  so  brittle,  at  a  time  when  the  least 
shock  would  be  sufficient  to  destroy  it. 

With  what  astonishing  care  does  a  kind  Pro- 
vidence provide  for  those  wants,  which  old  age 
incapacitates  us  to  supply?  Who  can  shut  his 
eyes  against  all  these  wonders  without  sinking 
into  the  deepest  stupidity,  and  without  expos- 
ing himself  to  the  greatest  misery? 

To  neglect  the  education  of  our  children  is 
to  refuse  to  retrench  that  depraviltj  which  we  com- 
municated to  them.  Suppose  the  Scriptures 
had  not  spoken  expressly  on  the  subject  of  ori- 
ginal depravity,  yet  it  would  argue  great  stu- 
pidity to  question  it.  As  soon  as  infants  dis- 
cover any  signs  of  reason,  they  discover  signs 
of  depravity,  and  their  malice  appears  as  their 
ideas  unfold  themselves.  Sin  in  them  is  a  fire 
at  firet  concealed,  ne.xt  emitting  a  few  sparks, 
and  at  last  bursting  into  a  great  blaze,  unless  it 
be  prevented  in  time.  Whence  do  they  derive 
so  great  an  infection?  Can  we  doubt  it,  my 
brethren?  They  derive  it  from  us,  and  by  com- 
municating our  nature  we  communicate  our 


24 


THE  FATAL  œNSEQUENCES  OF 


[Ser.  LV. 


depravity.  It  is  impossible,  being  our  children, 
that  they  should  not  be  depraved,  as  we  are; 
for,  to  use  the  language  of  scripture,  their  "fa- 
thers are  Aniorites  and  their  niotliers  are  Hitt- 
ites," Ezek.  xvi.  13.  Here  Iwisli  I  could  give 
you  some  notion  of  this  mortifying  mystery;  I 
wish  I  could  remove  the  dilficulties  wliich  pre- 
vent your  seeing  it;  I  wish  I  could  show  you 
what  a  union  there  is  between  the  brain  oi  an 
infant  and  that  of  its  mother,  in  order  to  con- 
vince you  that  sin  passes  from  the  parent  to  the 
child. 

What!  can  we  in  cool  blood  behold  our  chil- 
dren in  an  abyss,  into  which  we  have  plunged 
them;  can  we  be  sensible  tliat  we  have  done  this 
evil,  and  not  endeavour  to  relieve  them?  Not 
being  able  to  make  tiiem  innocent,  shall  we  not 
endeavour  to  render  tliem  penitent?  Ah!  vic- 
tims of  my  depravity,  unhappy  lieirs  of  the 
crimes  of  your  parents,  innocent  creatures,  born 
only  to  suffer,  I  think  I  ought  to  reproach  my- 
self for  all  the  pains  you  feel,  all  the  tears  you 
slied,  and  all  the  sighs  you  utter.  Methinks, 
every  time  you  cry,  you  reprove  me  for  my  in- 
sensibility and  injustice.  At  least,  it  is  rig'ht, 
that,  as  I  acknowledge  myself  the  cause  ofthe 
evil,  I  should  employ  myself  in  repairing  it,  and 
endeavour  to  renew  your  nature  by  endeavour- 
ing to  renew  my  own. 

This  reflection  leads  lis  to  a  third  point.  To 
neglect  the  education  of  our  children  is  to  be 
wanting  in  that  tenderness,  which  is  so  much  their 
due.  What  can  we  do  for  ihem?  What  inhe- 
ritance can  we  transmit  to  them?  Titles?  They 
are  often  nothing  but  empty  sounds  without 
meaning  and  reality.  Riches?  They  often 
"  make  themselves  wings  and  fly  away,"  Prov. 
xxiii.  5.  Honours?  They  are  often  mixed  with 
disagreeable  circumstances,  which  poison  all 
the  pleasure.  It  is  a  religious  education,  piety, 
and  the  fear  of  God,  that  makes  the  fairest  in- 
heritance, the  noblest  succession,  that  we  can 
leave  our  families. 

If  any  worldly  care  may  lawfully  occupy  the 
mind  of  a  dying  parent,  when  in  his  last  mo- 
ments the  soul  seems  to  be  called  to  detach  it- 
self from  every  worldly  concern,  and  to  think 
of  nothing  but  eternity,  it  is  that  which  has  our 
cliildren  for  its  object.  A  Christian  in  such  cir- 
cumstances finds  his  heart  divided  between  the 
family,  which  he  is  leaving  in  the  world,  and 
the  holy  relations,  which  he  is  going  to  meet  in 
heaven.  He  feels  himself  pressed  by  turns  be- 
tween a  desire  to  die,  which  is  most  advan- 
tageous for  him,  and  a  wish  to  live,  which  seems 
most  beneficial  to  his  family.  He  says,  "  I  am 
in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  de- 
part, and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better; 
nevertheless,  to  abide  in  the  flesh  is  more  need- 
ful for  you,"  Phil.  i.  23,  24.  We  are  terrified 
at  that  crowd  of  dangers,  in  which  we  leave 
these  dear  parts  of  ourselves.  The  perils  seem 
to  magnify  as  we  retire  from  the  sight  of  them. 
One  while  we  fear  for  their  health,  another 
while  we  tremble  for  their  salvation.  My  bre- 
thren, can  you  think  of  any  thing  more  proper 
to  prevent  or  to  pacify  such  emotions,  than  the 
practice  of  tliat  duty  wliich  we  are  now  pressing 
as  alwolutuly  necessary?  A  good  fatiicr  on  his 
death-lied  puts  on  tiie  same  dispositions  to  his 
children  as  Jesus  Clirist  adorned  himself  with 
in  regard  to  his  disciples  immediately  before  the 


consummation  of  that  great  sacrifice,  which  he 
was  about  to  offer  to  llie  justice  of  his  Father. 
The  soul  of  our  divine  Saviour  was  affected 
with  the  dangers  to  which  his  dear  disciples 
were  going  to  be  exposed.  Against  these 
gloomy  thoughts  he  opposed  two  noble  reflec- 
tions. First,  he  remembered  the  care  which 
he  had  taken  of  them,  and  tlie  great  principle» 
whicii  he  had  formed  in  their  minds:  and  se- 
condly, he  observed  that  "  siiadow  of  the  Al- 
miglity,  under  which  he  had  taught  them  to 
abide,"  Ps.  xci.  1»  "I  have  manifested  thy 
name  unto  the  men  which  thou  gavest  me. 
While  1  was  with  them  in  the  world,  I  kept 
them  in  thy  name,  and  none  of  tliein  is  lost  but 
tiie  son  of  perdition.  They  are  not  ofthe  world, 
even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world,"  John  xvii.  6, 
12,  16.  Tliis  is  the  first  reflection.  "  Now  I 
am  no  more  in  the  world,  but  these  are  in  the 
world,  and  I  come  to  thee.  Holy  Father,  keep 
through  thine  own  name  those  whom  thou  hast 
given  me,  that  they  may  be  one,  as  we  are.  I 
pray  not  that  thou  shouldst  take  them  out  of 
the  world,  but  that  thou  shouldst  keep  them 
from  the  evil.  Sanctify  them  through  thy  truth, 
thy  word  is  truth.  Father,  I  will  that  they 
also,  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with  me 
where  I  am,"  ver.  11,  15,  17.  This  is  the  se- 
cond reflection. 

These  two  reflections  are  impenetrable 
shields,  and  a  parent  should  never  separate 
them.  Would  you  be  in  a  condition  to  oppose 
the  second  of  these  shields  against  such  attacks 
as  the  gloomy  thoughts  just  now  mentioned 
will  make  upon  your  hearts  on  that  day  in 
which  you  quit  the  world  and  leave  your  chil- 
dren in  it'  endeavour  now  to  arm  yourself  with 
the  first.  Would  you  have  them  "  abide  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty?"  Inculcate  his 
fear  and  his  love  in  their  hearts.  Would  you 
be  able  to  say  as  Jesus  Christ  did,  "  Holy  Fa- 
ther, I  will  that  they  whom  thou  hast  given  me 
be  with  mc,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory; 
keep  them  tiirough  thy  name?"  Put  yourself 
now  into  a  condition  to  enable  you  then  to  say 
to  God  as  Christ  did,  "  I  have  given  them  to 
thy  word,  they  are  not  of  the  world,  even  as  I 
am  not  ofthe  world." 

To  neglect  the  education  of  our  children  is 
to  let  loose  madmen  against  the  state,  instead 
of  furnishing  it  with  good  rulers  or  good  sub- 
jects. That  child  intended  for  the  church, 
what  will  he  become,  if  he  be  not  animated 
with  such  a  spirit  as  ought  to  enliven  a  minister 
of  religion?  He  will  turn  out  a  trader  in  sacred 
things,  and  prove  himself  a  spy  in  our  families, 
a  fomenter  of  faction  in  the  slate,  who,  under 
pretence  of  glorifying  God,  will  set  the  world 
on  fire.  That  other  child  intended  for  the  bar, 
what  will  he  become,  unless  as  much  pains  be 
taken  to  engage  Inm  to  love  justice  as  to  make 
him  know  it,  or  to  make  him  not  disguise  it  as 
well  as  understand  iL>  He  will  prove  himself 
an  incendiary,  who  will  sow  seeds  of  division 
in  families,  render  law  suits  eternal,  and  reduce 
to  indigence  and  beggary  even  those  clients, 
whose  causes  he  shall  have  art  enough  to  gain. 
And  that  child,  whom  you  have  rashly  deter- 
mined to  push  into  the  highest  offices  of  state 
without  forming  in  him  sucii  dispositions  as  are 
necessary  in  eminent  posts,  what  will  he  be- 
come?   A  foolish  or  a  partial  judge,  who  will 


Sen.  LV.] 


A  BAD  EDUCATION. 


25 


pronounce  on  the  fortunes  and  lives  of  his  fel- 
low citizens  just  as  chance  or  caprice  may  im- 
pel him:  a  public  blood-sucker,  who  will  live 
upon  the  blood  and  substance  of  those  whom 
he  ought  to  support:  a  tyrant,  who  will  raze 
and  depopulate  the  very  cities  and  provinces 
which  he  oujrlit  to  defend. 

'I'he  least  indulgence  of  the  bad  inclinations 
of  children  somelinies  produces  the  most  fatal 
effects  in  society.  This  is  exemplified  in  the 
life  of  David,  whose  memory  may  be  truly  re- 
proached on  this  article,  for  he  was  one  of  the 
most  weak  of  all  parents.  Observe  his  indulg- 
ence of  Aninon.  It  produced  incest.  Remark 
his  indulgence  of  Absalom,  who  bcsouglit  him 
to  allow  his  brethren  to  partake  of  a  feast, 
whicli  he  had  prepared.  It  produced  an  assas- 
sination. See  his  weak  fondness  of  the  same 
Absalom,  wiio  endeavoured  to  make  his  way 
to  tiie  throne  by  mean  and  clownish  manners, 
affecting  to  sliake  jiands  with  the  Israelites,  and 
to  embrace  and  kiss  tiiem  (these  are  the  terms 
of  Scripture,)  and  practising  all  such  popular 
airs  as  generally  precede  and  predict  sedition. 
This  produced  a  civil  war.  Remark  how  he 
indulged  Adonijah,  who  made  himself  chariots, 
and  set  up  a  retinue  of  fifty  men.  The  sacred 
historian  tells  us,  that  "  his  father  had  not  dis- 
pleased him  at  any  time,  in  saying,  why  hast 
thou  done  so?"  1  Kings,  i.  6.  This  produced 
a  usurpation  of  the  throne  and  the  crown. 

To  neglect  the  education  of  your  children  is 
to  furnish  them  with  arms  against  rjourselves. 
You  complain  that  the  children,  whom  you 
have  brought  up  with  so  much  tenderness,  are 
the  torment  of  your  life,  that  they  seem  to  re- 
proach you  for  living  so  long,  and  that,  though 
they  have  derived  their  being  and  support  from 
you,  yet  they  refuse  to  contribute  tlie  least  part 
of  their  superfluities  to  assist  and  comfort  you! 
You  ouglit  to  find  fault  with  yourselves,  for 
their  depravity  is  a  natural  consequence  of  such 
principles  as  you  have  taught  them.  Had  you 
accustomed  them  to  respect  order,  tiiey  would 
not  now  refuse  to  conform  to  order:  but  they 
would  perform  the  greatest  of  all  duties;  they 
would  be  the  strength  of  your  weakness,  the 
vigour  of  your  reason,  and  the  joy  of  your  old 
a^e. 

To  neglect  the  education  of  children  is  to 
prepare  torments  for  a.  future  state,  the  bare  ap- 
prehension of  which  must  give  extreme  i)ainto 
every  heart  capable  of  feeling.  It  is  beyond  a 
doubt,  that  remorse  is  one  of  the  chief  punish- 
ments of  the  damned,  and  who  can  question, 
whether  the  most  excruciating  remorse  will  be 
excited  by  this  thougiit;  I  have  plunged  my 
children  into  this  abyss,  into  which  I  have 
plunged  myself? 

Imagine  a  parent  of  a  family  discovering 
among  tiie  crowd  of  reprobates  a  son,  whom  he 
himself  led  thither,  and  who  addresses  to  him 
this  terrible  language.  "  Barbarous  father, 
what  animal  appetites,  or  what  worldly  views 
inclined  you  to  give  me  existence.'  to  what  a 
desperate  condition  you  have  reduced  me!  See, 
wretch  that  you  are,  see  tiiese  flames  which 
bum  and  consume  me.  Observe  tliis  thick 
smoke  which  suftbcates  me.  Behold  the  heavy 
chains  with  which  I  am  loaded.  These  are  the 
fatal  consequences  of  the  principles  you  gave 
me.  Was  it  not  enough  to  bring  me  into  the 
Vol.  II.— 4 


world  a  sinner.'  was  it  necessary  to  put  me  in 
arms  against  Almighty  God?  Was  it  not  enough 
to  communicate  to  me  natural  depravity?  must 
you  add  to  that  the  venom  of  a  pernicious  edu- 
cation? Was  it  not  enough  to  exfiose  me  to  the 
misfortunes  inseparable  from  life?  must  you 
plungo  me  into  thoFc  wliich  follow  death?  Re- 
turn me,  cruel  parent,  return  nio  to  nothing, 
wiicnce  you  took  me.  Take  from  mo  the  fata! 
existence  you  gave  mo.  Show  me  mountains 
and  hills  to  fall  on  me,  and  hide  me  from  the 
anger  of  my  judire;  or,  if  that  divine  vengeance 
whicli  pursues  thee,  will  not  enable  thee  to  do 
so,  1  mj-sclf  will  become  tiiy  tormentor;  I  will 
for  ever  present  myself,  a  frightful  spectacle  be- 
fore thine  eyes,  and  by  those  eternal  liowlings, 
which  I  will  incessantly  pour  into  thine  ears,  I 
will  reproach  thee,  through  all  eternity  I  will 
reproach  thee,  with  my  misery  and  despair." 

Let  us  turn  our  eyes  from  these  gloomy 
images,  let  us  observe  objects  more  worthy  of 
the  majesty  of  this  place,  and  the  holiness  of 
our  ministry.  To  refuse  to  dedicate  our  child- 
ren to  God  by  a  religious  education,  is  to  refuse 
those  everlasting  pleasures,  which  as  much  sur- 
pass our  thoughts  as  our  expressions. 

It  is  a  fiimous  question  in  the  schools,  whe- 
ther we  shall  remember  in  heaven  the  connex- 
ions we  had  in  this  world?  Whether  glorified 
spirits  shall  know  one  anotlier?  Whether  a  fa- 
ther will  recollect  his  son,  or  a  son  his  father? 
And  so  on.  I  will  venture  to  assert,  that  they 
who  have  taken  the  aftirmalive  side,  and  they 
who  have  taken  the  negative  on  this  question, 
have  often  done  so  without  any  reason. 

On  the  one  side,  the  first  have  pretended  to 
establish  their  thesis  on  this  principle,  that 
something  would  be  v.-anting  to  our  happines.s 
if  we  were  not  to  know  in  a  future  state  those 
persons,  with  wiiom  we  had  been  united  by  the 
tenderest  connexions  in  this  present  world. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  know,  say  the  par- 
tisans of  the  opposite  opinion,  the  condition  of 
our  friends  in  a  future  state,  how  will  it  be 
possible  that  a  parent  should  be  happy  in  the 
possession  of  a  heaven,  in  which  his  children 
have  no  sliaro;  and  how  can  he  possibly  relish 
pleasure  at  the  riglit  hand  of  (iod,  while  he 
revolves  this  dreadful  thought  in  his  mind,  my 
cliildren  are  now,  and  will  for  ever  he  tor- 
mented witli  tiie  devil? 

It  siiould  seem,  tiie  proof  and  the  objection 
are  equally  groundless.  The  enjoyment  of 
(iod  is  so  sulllcient  to  satiate  a  soul,  that  it 
cannot  be  considered  as  necessary  to  the  hap- 
piness of  it  to  renew  such  connexions  as  were 
formed  during  a  momentary  passage  through 
tiiis  world.  I  oppose  this  against  the  argument 
for  the  first  opinion:  and  I  oppose  the  same 
against  the  objection,  for  the  enjoyment  of  God 
is  every  way  so  sufficient  to  satiate  a  soul,  that 
it  can  love  nothing  but  in  God,  and  that  its 
felicity  cannot  be  altered  by  the  miseries  of 
those  with  whom  there  will  then  be  no  con- 
nexion. 

A  consideration  of  another  kind  has  always 
made  me  incline  to  the  opinion  of  those  who 
take  tlie  aflirmative  side  of  this  question.  The 
perfections  of  God  are  here  concealed  under 
innumerable  veils.  How  ofien  does  he  seem 
to  countenance  iniquity  by  granting  a  profusion 
of  favours  to  the  contrivers  of  the  most  infernal 


26 


THE  FATAL  CONSEQUENCES  OF 


[Ser.  LV. 


schemes?  How  often  does  he  seem  to  declare 
himself  against  innocence  by  the  misfortunes 
whicii  lie  leaves  the  innocent  to  siitl'ur?  How 
often  have  we  seen  tyrants  on  a  throne,  and 
good  people  in  irons?  Does  not  this  awful 
phenomenon  furnish  us  with  an  irrefragable 
argument  for  the  doctrine  of  a  general  judg- 
ment and  a  future  state?  Which  of  your 
preachers  has  not  fre((uently  exhorted  you  to 
"judge  nothing  before  the  time,"  1  Cor.  iv. 
5;  at  the  end  of  tiie  time  comes  "  the  restitu- 
tion of  all  things,"  Acts  iii.  21,  whicli  will 
justify  Providence? 

Now,  it  siioiild  seem,  this  argument,  which 
none  but  inhdels  and  lil)ertiiies  deny,  and  which 
is  generally  received  by  all  Christians,  and  by 
all  philosophers,  this  argument,  1  say,  favours, 
not  to  say  estal)lislies  in  an  incontestible  man- 
ner, the  o|)inioii  of  those  who  think  that  the 
saints  will  know  one  another  in  the  next  life. 
Without  this  how  could  we  acquiesce  in  the 
justice  of  the  sentence,  which  will  then  be 
pronounced  on  all?  Observe  St.  Paul,  whose 
ministry  was  continually  counteracted.  What 
motive  supported  him  under  so  much  opposi- 
tion? Certainly  it  was  the  expectation  of  seeing 
one  day  with  his  own  eyes  the  conquest  which 
he  obtained  for  Jesus  Christ;  souls  which  he 
had  plucked  out  of  the  jaws  of  Satan;  be- 
lievers whom  he  had  guided  to  eternal  happi- 
ness. Hear  what  he  said  to  the  Thcssalonians, 
'*  What  is  our  hope,  our  joy,  our  crown  of  re- 
joicing? Are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming?  For  ye 
are  our  glory  and  joy,"  chap.  ii.  19,  20. 

Now,  tills  is  the  hope,  this  is  the  crown, 
which  I  propose  to  you,  heads  of  families,  to 
engage  you  to  dedicate  your  children  to  God 
by  a  religious  education. 

It  was  this  thought  whicli  supported  one  of 
the  wisest  of  the  heathens  against  the  fears  of 
death,  I  mean  Cato  of  Utica.  No  man  iiad  a 
greater  atVection  for  a  son,  than  he  had  for  his. 
No  man  bore  the  loss  with  greater  firmness  and 
magnanimity.  "  O  hap|)y  day,  when  1  shall 
quit  tiiis  wretched  crowd,  and  join  that  divine 
and  happy  company  of  noble  souls,  who  have 
quitted  the  world  before  me!  1  shall  there  meet 
not  only  these  illustrious  personages,  but  my 
dear  Cato,  who,  1  will  venture  to  say,  was  one 
of  the  best  of  men,  of  the  best  natural  di.spo- 
sition,  and  the  most  punctual  in  tiie  discliarge 
of  his  duties,  that  ever  was.  I  have  put  his 
body  on  the  funeral  piU',  whereas  he  should 
have  placed  mine  there;  i)ut  his  soul  has  not 
left  me,  and  he  has  only  ste[)ped  first  into  a 
country  where  I  shall  soon  join  him." 

If  this  hope  made  so  great  an  inqtression  on 
the  mind  of  a  pagan,  what  ouglit  it  not  to  pro- 
duce in  the  heart  of  a  Christian?  What  infinite 
pleasure,  when  tlie  voice  shall  cry,  "  Arise  ye 
dead,"  to  see  those  children  whom  God  gave 
you?  What  superior  delight,  to  behold  those 
whom  an  immature  death  snatched  from  us, 
and  tlie  loss  of  whom  had  cost  us  so  many 
tears?  What  supreme  satisfaction,  to  embrace 
those  who  dosed  our  eyes,  and  performed  the 
last  kind  otilces  for  us?  O  the  unspeakable 
joy  of  that  Christian  father,  who  shall  walk  at 
the  head  of  a  Christian  family,  and  present 
himself  with  all  his  happy  train  before  Jesus 
Christ,  otlering  to  him  hearts  worthy  to  serve 


such  a  master,  and  saying  to  him,  "behold  me, 
and  the  children  which  God  hath  given  me," 
Heb.  ii.  13. 

We  have  been  speaking  of  the  fatal  conse- 
quences of  an  irreligious  education;  and  now 
we  wish  we  could  put  you  all  into  a  condition 
to  prevent  them.  But,  alas!  how  can  some  of 
you  reduce  our  exhortations  to  practice?  you 
disconsolate  fathers,  you  distressed  mothers, 
from  whom  persecution  has  torn  away  these 
dear  parts  of  yourselves,  ye  weeping  Davids, 
ye  mourning  Rachels,  who,  indeed,  do  not 
weep  because  your  children  "  are  not,"  but 
because,  though  they  are,  and  though  you  gave 
them  existence,  you  cannot  give  them  a  reli- 
gious education?  Ah!  how  can  you  obey  our 
voice?  Who  can  calm  the  cruel  fears,  which 
by  turns  divide  your  souk?  What  results  from 
all  the  conllicts,  which  pass  within  you,  and 
which  rend  your  hearts  asunder?  Will  you 
go  and  expose  yourselves  to  persecution?  Will 
you  leave  your  children  alone  to  be  persecuted? 
Will  you  obey  the  voice  that  commands,  "flee 
out  of  Babylon,  and  deliver  every  man  his  own 
soul,"  Jer.  i.  6;  or  that  which  crie»,  "  Take 
the  young  child?"  Matt.  ii.  20.  O  dreadful 
alternative!  Must  you  be  driven,  in  some  sort, 
to  make  an  option  between  their  salvation  and 
yours?  must  you  sacrifice  yours  to  theirs,  or 
theirs  to  your  own? 

Ah!  cruel  problem!  Inhuman  suspense!  Thou 
tyrant,  is  not  thy  rage  sufliciently  glutted  by 
destroying  our  material  temples?  must  you 
lay  your  barbarous  hands  on  tlie  temples  of 
the  Holy  Ghost'  Is  it  not  enough  to  plunder 
us  of  our  property,  must  you  rob  us  of  our 
families?  Is  it  not  enough  to  render  life  bitter, 
would  you  make  eternity  desperate  and  intole- 
rable? 

But,  it  is  not  to  tyrants  that  we  address 
ourselves,  they  are  inaccessible  to  our  voice, 
or  inflexible  to  our  complaints.  It  is  to  God 
alone,  who  turns  them  as  he  thinks  proper, 
that  we  address  our  prayers.  Hagar  found 
herself  banisiied  into  a  desert,  and  she  had 
nothing  to  support  her  but  a  few  pieces  of 
bread,  and  a  bottle  of  water.  The  water  being 
spent,  her  dear  Ishmael  was  ready  to  die  with 
thirst.  She  laid  him  under  a  bush,  and  only 
desired  that  she  might  not  see  him  die.  She 
rambled  to  some  distance,  wept  as  she  went, 
and  said,  "  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the 
child,"  Gen.  xxi.  IG,  iic.  See,  she  cannot 
help  it,  she  sits  "  over  against  him,  lifts  iqi  her 
voice,  and  weeps."  (lod  heard  the  voice  of 
the  mother  and  the  child,  and,  by  an  angel, 
said  unto  her,  "  Wliat  ailcth  thee,  Hagar?  fear 
not,  for  God  hath  heard  the  voice  of  the  lad. 
Arise,  take  hold  of  his  hand,  and  lift  him  up, 
for  I  will  make  him  a  great  nation."  See  what 
a  source  of  con.sqlation  1  open  to  you!  Lift  up 
the  voice  and  weep.  "O  Father  of  spirits, 
God  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh,"  Heb.  xii.  9; 
Numb.  xvi.  22.  Thou  Supreme,  whose  essence 
is  love,  and  whose  chief  character  is  mercy, 
thou  who  wast  touched  to  see  Nineveh  repent, 
and  who  wouldst  not  involve  in  the  general 
destruction  the  many  infants  at  nurse  in  that 
city,  "  who  could  not  discern  between  their 
right  hand  and  their  left,"  John  iv.  11;  wilt 
not  thou  regard  with  eyes  of  affection  and  pity 
our  numerous  children,   who   caimot  discern 


Ser.  LV.] 


A  BAD  EDUCATION. 


27 


truth  from  error,  who  cannot  believe,  because 
they  have  not  heard,  who  cannot  "  liear  with- 
out a  preacher,"  and  to  whom,  alas!  no 
preacher  is  sent?  Rom.  x.  14. 

But  yon,  happy  fathers,  yon,  mothers,  fa- 
vourites of  heaven,  who  assemble  your  children 
around  you  "a.s  a  hen  galhereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,"  Matt,  xxiii.  37;  can  you 
neglect  a  duty,  which  is  impracticable  to  others? 
That  tyrants  and  persecutors  should  display 
their  fury  by  making  havoc  of  our  children, 
and  by  offering  them  to  tiie  devil,  is,  I  allow, 
extremely  sliockiiig,  but  there  is  nothing  in  it 
very  wonderful:  but  that  Ciiristian  fathers  and 
mothers  should  conspire  together  in  such  a 
tragical  design  would  be  a  spectacle  incompa- 
rably more  shocking,  and  the  horror  of  which 
the  blackest  colours  are  unable  to  portray. 

How  forcible  soever  the  motives,  which  we 
have  alleged,  may  be,  I  fear  they  will  be  inef- 
fectual, and  such  as  will  not  influence  the 
greatest  part  of  you.  It  must  be  allowed,  that, 
if  there  be  any  case,  to  which  the  words  of  our 
Saviour  are  applicable,  it  is  this  of  which  we 
are  speaking,  "  strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow 
is  the  way,  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few 
there  be  that  find  it,"  Matt.  vii.  14. 

A  reformation  of  the  false  ideas  which  you 
form  on  the  education  of  children,  is,  so  to 
speak,  the  first  step  which  you  ought  to  take 
in  the  road  set  before  you  tiiis  day.  No,  it  is 
not  such  vague  instructions  as  you  give  your 
children,  such  superficial  pains  as  you  take  to 
make  them  virtuous,  such  general  exhortations 
as  you  address  to  them,  is  it  not  all  this,  that 
constitutes  such  a  religious  education  as  God 
requires  you  to  give  them.  Entertain  notions 
more  rational,  and  remember  the  few  maxims, 
which  I  am  going  to  propose  to  you  as  the 
conclusion  of  this  discourse. 

First  maxim.  Delays,  always  dangerous  in 
cases  of  practical  religion,  are  peculiarly  fatal. 
in  the  case  of  education.  As  soon  as  children 
see  the  light,  and  begin  to  think  and  reason, 
we  should  endeavour  to  form  them  to  \nety. 
Let  us  place  the  fear  of  God  in  these  young 
hearts,  before  the  world  can  get  possession  of 
them,  before  the  power  of  habit  be  united  to 
that  of  constitution.  Ijct  us  avail  ourselves 
of  the  flexibilitj'  of  their  organs,  the  fidelity  of 
their  memories,  and  the  facility  of  their  con- 
ceptions, to  render  their  duty  pleasing  to  them 
by  the  ease  with  which  they  are  taught  to  dis- 
charge it. 

Second  maxim.  Although  the  end  of  the 
divers  methods  of  educating  cliildren  ought  to 
be  the  same,  yet  it  should  be  varied  according 
to  their  difterent  characters.  Let  us  study  our 
children  with  as  much  application  as  we  have 
studied  ourselves.  Both  these  studies  are  at- 
tended with  difiiculties;  and  as  self-love  often 
prevents  our  knowing  ourselves,  so  a  natural 
fondness  for  our  children  renders  it  extremely 
difficult  for  us  to  discover  their  propensities. 

TIdrd  maxim.  A  procedure,  wise  in  itself, 
and  proper  to  inspire  children  with  virtue,  may 
sometimes  be  rendered  useless  by  symptoms  of 
passion,  with  which  it  is  accompanied.  We 
cannot  educate  them  well  without  a  prudent 
mixture  of  severity  and  gentleness.  But  on 
the  one  hand,  what  success  can  we  expect  from 


gentleness,  if  they  discover,  that  it  is  not  the 
i'ruit  of  our  care  to  reward  what  in  them  is 
worthy  of  reward,  but  of  a  natural  inclination, 
which  we  have  not  the  courage  to  resist,  and 
which  makes  us  yield  more  to  the  motions  of 
our  animal  machine,  than  to  the  dictates  of 
reason?  .  On  the  other  iiand,  what  good  can 
they  derive  from  our  seveiity,  if  they  see,  that 
it  proceeds  from  humour  and  caprice  more  than 
from  our  hatred  to  sin,  and  our  desire  to  free 
tliem  from  it'  If  our  eyes  sparkle,  if  we  take 
a  bia-h  tone  of  voice,  if  our  mouths  froth,  when 
we  chastise  them,  what  good  can  come  of  such 
chastisements? 

Fuurlk  maxim.  The  best  means  of  procuring 
a  good  education  lose  ail  their  force,  unless 
they  be  sup|)orted  by  the  examples  of  such  as 
employ  tiiem.  Example  is  also  a  great  motive, 
and  it  is  especially  sue!»  to  youth.  Children 
know  how  to  imitate  before  they  can  speak, 
before  they  can  reason,  and,  so  to  speak,  before 
they  are  born.  In  their  mothers'  wombs,  at 
the  breasts  of  their  nurses,  they  receive  impres- 
sions from  exterior  objects,  and  take  the  form 
of  all  that  strikes  them.  What  success,  mise- 
rable mother,  can  you  expect  from  3'our  exhor- 
tations to  piety,  while  your  children  see  you 
yourself  all  taken  up  with  the  world,  and  its 
amusements  and  pleasures;  passing  a  great 
part  of  your  life  in  gaming,  and  in  forming 
criminal  intrigues,  which,  far  from  hiding  from 
your  family,  you  expose  to  the  siglit  of  all 
mankind?  What  success  can  you  expect  from 
your  exhortations  to  your  cliildren,  you  wretch- 
ed father,  when  they  iiear  you  blaspheme  your 
Creator,  and  see  you  living  in  debauchery, 
drowning  your  reason  in  wine,  and  gluttony, 
and  so  on? 

Fifth  maxim.  A  liberty,  innocent  when  it  is 
taken  before  men,  becomes  criminal,  when  it 
is  taken  before  tender  minds,  not  yet  formed. 
What  circumspection,  what  vigilance,  I  had 
almost  said,  what  niceties  does  this  maxim  en- 
gage us  to  observe?  Certain  words  spoken,  as 
it  were,  into  the  air,  certain  imperceptible  allu- 
sions, certain  smiles,  escaping  before  a  child, 
and  which  he  has  not  been  taught  to  suspect, 
are  sometimes  snares  more  fatal  to  his  inno- 
cence than  the  most  profane  discourses,  yea, 
they  are  often  more  dangerous  than  the  most 
pernicious  examples,  for  them  he  has  been 
taught  to  ab'.ior. 

Sixth  maxim.  The  indefatigable  pains,  which 
we  ought  always  to  take  in  educating  our  chil- 
dren, ought  to  be  redoubled  on  these  decisive 
events  wliich  influences  both  the  present  life, 
and  the  future  state.  For  example,  the  kind 
of  life  to  which  we  devote  them,  is  one  of 
these  decisive  events.  A  good  father  regu- 
lates his  views  in  this  respect,  not  according 
to  a  rash  determination  made  when  the  child 
was  in  the  cradle,  but  according  to  observa- 
tions deliberately  made  on  the  abilities  and 
manners  of  the  child. 

Companions  too  are  to  be  considered  as  de- 
ciding on  the  future  condition  of  a  child.  A 
good  father  with  this  view  will  choose  such  so- 
cieties as  will  second  his  own  endeavours,  he 
will  remember  the  maxim  of  St.  Paul,  "  Evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners,"  1  Cor. 
XV.  33;  for  he  luiows,  that  a  dissolute  compan- 


28 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


[Skr.  LVI. 


ion  lias  often  eradicated  from  the  Jieart  of  a 
Touth  all  the  good  seeds  which  a  pious  family 
nad  sown  there. 

Above  all,  marriag;e  is  one  of  these  decisive 
steps  in  life.  A  good  father  of  a  family,  unites 
his  children  to  others  by  the  two  bonds  of  vir- 
tue and  religion.  How  can  an  intimate  union 
be  formed  with  a  person  of  impious  principles, 
without  familiarizing  the  virtuous  by  degrees 
with  impiety,  witiiout  losing  by  little  and  little 
that  horror  which  impiety  would  insjiire,  and 
without  imbibing  by  degrees  the  same  spirit' 
So  necessary  is  a  bond  of  virtue.  That  of  re- 
ligion is  no  less  so,  for  the  crime  which  drew 
the  most  cutting  rejjroots  upon  the  Israelites 
after  the  captivity,  and  wliich  brought  U])on 
them  the  greatest  judgments,  was  that  of  con- 
tracting marriages  with  women  not  in  the  cove- 
nant. Are  such  marriages  less  odious  now, 
when  by  a  profane  mixture  people  unite  "  light 
and  darkness,  Christ  and  Belial,  the  temple  of 
God  and  idols.'"  2  Cor.  vi.  14,  15.  Are  such 
marriages  less  hateful  now,  when,  by  a  horrible 
partition,  the  children,  if  there  be  any,  are  mu- 
tually ceded  before  hand,  and  in  cold  blood  dis- 
posed of  thus:  the  sons  shall  be  taught  the  truth, 
the  daughters  shall  be  educated  in  error,  the 
boys  shall  be  for  heaven,  the  girls  for  hell,  a 
son  for  God,  a  daughter  for  tlie  devil. 

Sevenlli  maxim.  The  best  means  for  the  edu- 
cation of  ciiildrcn  must  be  accompanied  with 
fervent  prayer.  If  you  have  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  tiie  n)a.\ims  wc  have  proposed,  I  shall 
not  be  surprised  to  hear  you  exclaim,  "  Who 
is  sufficient  for  these  things?"  2  Cor.  ii.  16. 
But,  if  it  bo  the  fear  of  not  succeeding  in  edu- 
cating your  children,  whicii  dictates  this  lan- 
guage, and  not  that  indolence,  which  tries  to 
get  rid  of  the  labour,  be  you  fully  persuaded, 
that  the  grace  of  God  will  triumph  over  your 
great  intirmities.  Let  us  address  to  him  the 
most  fervent  prayers  for  the  happiness  of  those 
children,  who  are  so  dear  to  us,  and  let  us  be- 
lieve that  they  will  return  in  benedictions  upon 
them.  Let  each  parent  collect  together  all  his 
piety,  and  then  let  him  give  himself  up  to  the 
tenderest  emotions  towards  his  children.  O 
God!  who  didst  present  thyself  to  us  last  Lord's 
day  under  the  amiable  idea  of  a  i)arent  "  pity- 
ing them  that  fear  thee  as  a  father  pitieth  his 
children,"  Ps.  ciii.  13.  O  God!  wiio  thyself 
lovest  thy  Son  with  infinite  tenderness  and  ve- 
hemence: O  God!  author  of  the  tender  aliec- 
tions,  which  unite  me  to  the  cliildron  thou  hast 
given  mo,  bless  the  pains  1  take  in  their  edu- 
cation: disobedient  children,  my  God,  1  disown. 
Let  me  see  them  die  in  infancy,  r;itli(T  tlian  go 
along  with  the  torrent  of  general  immorality, 
and  "  run"  with  the  children  of  the  world  to 
their  "  o.xccss  «1' riot,"  1  I'et.  iv.  I.  I  pray 
for  thfir  sanctification  with  an  ardour  a  thou- 
sand times  more  vehement  than  1  denire  their 
fortune:  and  the  fii-st  of  all  my  wi.shes  is  to  be 
able  to  |)r('.s(!iit  llnim  to  thee  on  that  great  day, 
when  tiiou  wilt  pronounce  the  doom  of  all 
mankind,  and  to  say  to  lliee  then,  "Lord,  be- 
hold, hero  am  I,  and  the  children  thou  hast 
given  mo."  May  God  excite  such  prayers, 
and  answer  them!  To  him  be  honour  and 
glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LVI. 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


Ro.MANS  xii.  2. 
Be  not  conformed  to  this  world 
.  Of  all  the  discourses  delivered  in  this  pulpit 
those  which  deserve  the  greatest  deference, 
and  usually  obtain  the  least,  are  such  as  treat 
of  general  mistakes.  What  subjects  require  a 
greater  deference.'  Our  design  in  treating  of 
them,  is  to  dissipate  those  illusions,  with  which 
the  whole  world  is  familiar,  which  are  autlior- 
izcd  by  the  multitude,  and  which,  like  epidemi- 
cal diseases,  inflicted  sometimes  by  Providence 
on  public  bodies,  involve  tiie  state,  the  church, 
and  individuals.  Yet  are  any  discourses  less 
respected  than  such  as  these?  To  attack  gene- 
ral mistakes  is  to  excite  the  displeasure  of  all 
who  favour  them,  to  disgust  a  whole  auditory, 
and  to  acquire  the  most  odious  of  all  titles,  I 
mean  tiiat  of  public  censor.  A  preacher  is 
then  obliged  to  choose  either  never  to  attack 
such  mistakes  as  the  multitude  think  fit  to  au- 
thorize, or  to  announce  the  advantages  which 
ho  may  promise  himself',  if  he  adapt  his  sub- 
jects to  the  taste  of  his  auditors,  and  touch  their 
disorders  only  so  far  as  to  acconnnodate  their 
crimes  to  their  consciences. 

Let  us  not  hesitate  what  part  to  take.  St. 
Paul  determines  us  by  his  example.  I  am  go- 
ing, to-day,  in  imitation  of  this  apostle  to  guard 
you  against  the  rocks,  where  the  many  are 
shipwrecked.  He  exhorts  us,  in  the  words  of 
the  text,  not  to  take  "  the  world  for  a  model!" 
"  the  world,"  that  is,  the  crowd,  the  multitude, 
society  at  large.  But  what  society  has  he  in 
view?  Is  it  that  of  ancient  Rome,  which  he 
describes  as  extremely  depraved  in  the  begin- 
ning of  this  epistle?  Docs  ho  say  nothing  of 
our  world,  our  cities  and  provinces?  We  are 
going  to  examine  this,  and  I  fear  I  shall  be 
able  to  prove  to  you,  that  our  multitude  is  a 
dangerous  guide  to  show  us  the  way  to  heaven; 
and,  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  tew  articles.  I 
sliall  prove  that  they  are  bad  guides  to  direct 
us,  first,  in  regard  to  liiith; — secondly,  in  regard 
to  tlie  worslnp  which  God  requires  of  usj — 
thirdly,  in  regard  to  morality;  and  lastly,  in  re- 
gard to  the  hour  of  death.  In  these  four  views, 
1  shall  enforce  the  words  of  our  text,  "  Be  not 
(■(jnf'ormed  to  this  world."  This  is  tlio  whole 
plan  of  this  discourse. 

1.  The  multitude  is  a  bad  guide  to  direct  our 
failli.  We  will  not  introduce  here  the  famous 
controversy  on  this  question,  whether  a  great 
ninnber  form  a  |)resuniption  in  favour  of'  any 
religion,  or  whether  universality  be  a  certain  evi- 
d(!nce  of  the  true  Christian  church?  How  often 
has  this  (piestion  been  debated  and  determined! 
How  often  have  we  proved  against  one  commu- 
nity, which  displays  the  number  of  its  professors 
with  so  nmch  parade,  that  if  the  pretence  wore 
wcll-foun<lcd,  it  would  operate  in  favour  of  pa- 
ganism, for  pagans  were  always  more  numer- 
ous than  ('hristians!  How  often  have  we  told 
them,  that  in  divers  periods  of  the  ancient 
church  idolatry  and  idolaters  have  been  en- 


Ser.  LVL] 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


29 


tlironed  in  both  the  kingdoms  of  Judah  and 
Israel!  How  often  have  we  alleged,  that  in  the 
time  of  Jesus  Christ  the  church  was  described 
as  a  "  little  Hock,"  Luke  xii.  32;  that  heatiiens 
and  Jews  were  all  in  league  against  Chris- 
tianity at  first,  and  that  the  gospel  had  only  a 
small  number  of  disciples!  How  often  have 
we  retorted,  that  for  whole  centuries  there  was 
no  trace,  no  shadow  of  the  opinions  of  modern 
Rome!  But  we  will  not  apply  ourselves  to 
this  controversy  to-day  by  fixing  your  atten- 
tion on  the  sophisms  of  foreigners;  perliaps  we 
migiit  divert  your  eyes  from  your  own;  by 
siiowing  you  our  triuraplis  over  tiio  vain  at- 
tacks made  on  us  by  the  enemies  of  the  refor- 
mation, perhaps  wc  miglit  turn  away  your  at- 
tention from  other  more  dangerous  wounds, 
which  the  reformed  themselves  aim  at  tiie 
heart  of  religion.  When  I  say  the  multitude 
is  a  bad  guide  in  matters  of  faith,  I  mean,  that 
the  manner  in  which  most  men  adhere  to  truth, 
is  not  by  principles  which  ought  to  attach  them 
to  it,  but  by  a  spirit  of  negligence  and  preju- 
dice. 

It  is  no  small  work  to  examine  the  truth, 
when  we  arrive  at  an  age  capable  of  discus- 
sion. The  fundamental  points  of  religion,  I 
grant,  lie  in  the  Scriptures  clear  and  perspicu- 
ous, and  within  the  comprehension  of  all  who 
choose  to  attend  to  them:  but  when  we  pass 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  and  arrive  at  an 
age  in  which  reason  seems  mature,  we  find 
ourselves  covered  with  a  veil,  which  either 
hides  objects  from  us,  or  disfigures  them.  The 
public  discourses  we  have  heard  in  favour  of 
the  sect,  in  which  we  were  educated,  the  inve- 
terate hatred  we  have  for  all  others,  who  hold 
principles  opposite  to  ours,  the  frightful  por- 
traits that  are  drawn  before  our  eyes  of  the 
perils  we  must  encounter,  if  we  depart  from 
the  way  we  have  been  brought  up  in,  the  im- 
pressions made  upon  us  by  the  examples  and 
decisions  of  our  parents,  and  masters,  and  teach- 
ers, the  bad  taste  of  those  who  had  the  care  of 
our  education,  and  who  prevented  our  acquir- 
ing that  most  noble  disposition,  without  wiiich 
it  is  impossible  ever  to  be  a  true  philosopher, 
or  a  real  Christian,  I  mean  that  of  suspending 
our  judgment  on  subjects  not  sufficiently  pro- 
ved; from  all  this  arise  clouds  that  render  the 
truth  inaccessible,  and  which  tiie  world  can- 
not dissipate.  We  do  not  say,  tliat  natural  ta- 
lents, or  supernatural  assistance  are  wanting; 
we  are  fully  convinced  that  God  will  never 
give  up  to  final  error  any  man  who  does  all  in 
his  power  to  understand  the  truth.  But  the 
world  are  incapable  of  this  work.  Why?  Be- 
cause all  the  world,  except  a  few,  hate  labour 
and  meditation  in  regard  to  the  subjects  which 
respect  another  life;  because  all  the  world 
would  choose  rather  to  attach  themselves  to 
what  regards  their  temporal  interests  than  to 
the  great  interest  of  eternal  happiness:  because 
all  the  world  like  better  to  suppose  the  princi- 
ples imbibed  in  their  childhood  true,  than  to 
impose  on  themselves  the  task  of  weighing 
tliem  anew  in  the  balance  of  a  sound  and  severe 
reason:  because  all  the  world  have  an  invinci- 
ble aversion  to  suppose,  that  when  they  are  ar- 
rived at  manhood  they  have  almost  lost  their 
time  in  some  respects,  and  that  when  they  leave 
school  they  begin  to  be  capable  of  instruction. 


If  the  nature  of  the  thing  cannot  convince 
you,  that  the  multitude  continue  through  ne- 
gligence in  the  profession  of  that  religion  in 
which  they  were  born,  experience  may  here 
supply  the  place  of  reasoning.  There  is  an 
iiifuiile  variety  of  geniuses  among  mankind. 
Proi)ose  to  an  as.senibly  a  question,  that  no 
system  has  yet  decided,  and  you  will  find,  as 
it  is  usually  said,  as  many  opiiiiuiLS  as  heads. 

It  is  certain,  if  mankind  were  attached  to  a 
religion  only  because  they  had  studied  it,  we 
should  find  a  great  number  of  people  forsake 
that  in  which  they  had  been  brought  up,  for  it 
is  impossible,  that  a  whole  society  should  unite 
in  one  point  of  error,  or  rather,  it  is  clear,  to  a 
deinonstration,  that  as  truth  has  certain  char- 
acters superior  to  falsehood,  the  temples  of 
idols  would  be  instantly  deserted,  erroneous 
sects  would  be  soon  abandoned,  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  only  one  worthy  of  being 
embraced,  the  only  one  that  deserves  disciples, 
would  be  the  only  one  embraced,  and  would 
alone  be  received  by  all  sincere  disciples  of 
truth. 

Do  not  think,  my  brethren,  that  this  reflec- 
tion concerning  that  spirit  of  negligence,  which 
retains  most  men  in  a  profession  of  their  own 
religion,  regards  only  such  communions  as  lay 
down  their  own  infallibility  for  a  fundamental 
article  of  faith,  and  which  prescribe  ignorance 
and  blind  submission  as  a  first  principle  to 
their  partisans,  for  it  is  but  too  easy  to  prove, 
that  the  same  spirit  of  negligence  reigns  in  all 
communities.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  in 
general  so  few  Christians  can  render  a  reason 
for  tlieir  faith.  Hence  it  is  that  people  are 
usually  better  furnished  with  arguments  to  op- 
pose such  societies  as  surround  them,  than  with 
those  which  establish  the  fundamental  truths  of 
Christianity.  If  then  you  follow  the  direction 
of  the  multitude  in  the  study  of  religion,  you 
will  be  conducted  by  a  spirit  of  negligence, 
prejudice  will  be  held  for  proof,  education  for 
arçrument,  and  tiie  decisions  of  your  parents  and 
teachers  for  infallible  oracles  of  truth. 

II.  The  multitude  is  a  bad  guide  in  regard 
to  that  loorship,  which  God  requires  of  us;  they 
defile  it  with  a  spirit  of  superstition.  Super- 
stition is  a  disposition  of  mind  that  inclines  us 
to  regulate  all  parts  of  divine  worship,  not  by 
just  notions  of  the  Supreme  Being,  nor  by  his 
relation  to  us,  nor  by  what  he  has  condescended 
to  reveal,  but  by  our  own  fancies.  A  super- 
stitious man  entertains  fantastical  ideas  of  God, 
and  renders  to  him  capricious  worships;  he  not 
unfrequently  takes  himself  for  a  model  of  God: 
he  thinks  that  what  most  resembles  himself, 
however  mean  and  contemptible,  approaches 
nearest  to  perfection.  \Ve  athrrn,  this  disposi- 
tion is  almost  universal. 

It  would  be  needless  to  prove  this  to  you, 
my  brethren,  in  regard  to  erroneous  comnm- 
nities.  Were  superstition  banished  from  the 
world,  we  should  not  see  men,  who  are  made 
in  the  image  of  God,  disgrace  their  nature  by 
prostrating  themselves  before  idols,  and  mar- 
mosets, so  as  to  render  religious  honours  to 
half  a  block  of  wood  or  stone,  the  other  half  of 
which  they  apply  to  tiie  meanest  purposes:  we 
should  not  see  a  crowd  of  idolaters  performing 
a  ceremonial,  in  which  conviction  of  mind  has 
no  part,  and  which  is  all  external  and  material, 


30 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


[Ser.  LVI. 


we  Bhould  not  see  a  concourse  of  people  receiv-  j      1.  Consider  mankind  in  regard  to  the  mas 
ing  with  respect,  as  the  precious  blood  of  the    ters  who  govern  them.     Here  I  congratulate 


Saviour  of  the  world,  a  few  drops  of  ])ntrefied 
water,  which  the  warmth  of  the  sun  has  pro- 
duced by  fermentation  in  the  trunk  of  a  decayed 
tree:  we  should  not  see  pilgrims  in  procession 
mangling  their  flesh  in  the  streets,  dragging 
along  heavy  loads,  howling  in  the  highways, 
and  taking  such  absurd  practices  for  that  re- 
pentance, which  breaks  the  heart,  and  trans- 
forms and  renews  the  life.  You  will  easily 
grant  all  this,  for  I  have  observed,  it  is  often 
less  difficult  to  inspire  you  witli  horror  for 
these  practices,  than  to  excite  compassion  in 
you  for  such  as  perform  them. 

But  you  ought  to  be  informed,  that  there 
are  other  superstitions  less  gross,  and  therefore 
more  dangerous.  Among  us  we  do  not  put  a 
worship  absolutely  foreign  to  the  purpose  in 
the  place  of  that  which  God  has  commanded 
and  exemplified  to  us,  but  we  make  an  esti- 
mate of  the  several  parts  of  true  worship. 
These  estimates  are  regulated  by  opinions 
formed  through  prejudice  or  passion.  What 
best  agrees  with  our  inclinations  we  consider 
as  the  essence  of  religion,  and  what  would 
thwart  and  condemn  them  we  think  circum- 
stantial. 

We  make  a  scruple  of  not  attending  a  ser- 
mon, not  keeping  a  festival,  not  receiving  the 
Lord's  Supper,  but  we  make  none  of  neglect- 
ing to  visit  a  prisoner,  to  comfort  the  sick,  to 
plead  for  the  oppressed.     We  observe  a  strict 
decency  in  our  religious  assemblies  while  our 
ministers  address  prayer  to  God,  but  we  take 
no  pains  to  accompany  him  with  our  minds 
and  hearts,  to  unite  our  ejaculations  vi'ith  his 
to  besiege  the  throne  of  grace.     We  think  it  a 
duty  to  join  our  voices  with  those  of  a  whole 
congregation,  and  to  fill  our  places  of  worship 
with  the  praises  of  our  Creator,  but  we  do  not 
think  ourselves  obliged  to  understand  the  sense 
of  the  psalm,  that  is  sung  with  so  much  fervour, 
and,  in  the  language  of  an  apostle,  to  "sing 
with   understanding,"    1.  Cor.  xiv.    15.     We 
lay  aside  innocent  occupations  the  day  before 
we  receive  the  Lord's  Supper,  but  no  sooner 
do  we  return  from  this  ordinance  than  we  allow 
the  most  criminal  pleasures,  and  enter  upon 
the  most   scandalous   intrigues.     Who   make 
these  mistakes  my  brethren.'     Is  it  the  few? 
"  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world,"  in  regard 
to  the  worship  that  God  requires  of  you,  the 
multitude  perform  it  in  a  spirit  of  superstition. 
III.  Neither  are  the  many  a  better  guide  in 
regard   to  moraiUy.     Here,  my  bretliren,  we 
are  going  more  particularly  to  describe  that 
class  of  mankind,  among  whicli  we  live,  and  of 
which  we  ourselves  are  a  part.     Indeed,  the 
portraits  we  are  going  to  draw  will  not  bo 
flattering  to  them,  for  justice  requires,  that  we 
should  describe  men  as  they  are,  not  as  they 
pretend  to  be.     In  order  to  exactness  lot  us 
consider  them  separately  and  apart.     First,  In 
regard  to  the  masters  who  govern  them.     Se- 
condly, In  regard  to  the  profussions,  which  they 
exercise.     Thirdly,  In  regard  to  some  maxims 
generally   received.     Tourthly,   In   regard   to 
the    Hi)lendid    actions   which    they   celebrate. 
And  lastly,  In  regard  to  certain  decisive  occa- 
sions, that,   like   touchstones,   discover   their 
principles  and  motives. 


myself  on  the  happiness  of  speaking  to  a  free 
pco|)le,  among  whom  it  is  not  reputed  a  crime 
to  praise  what  is  praise-worthy,  and  to  blame 
what  deserves  blame,  and  wiiere  we  may  freely 
trace  the  characters  of  some  men  of  whom  pru- 
dence requires  us  not  to  "speak  evil,  no  not  in 
thougiit,  no  not  in  the  bedchamber,  lest  a  bird 
of  tiie   air  should  carry  the  voice,  and   that 
which   hath  wings  should   tell   the   matter,' 
Eccles.  X.  20.     Is  it  in  the  palaces  of  the  great 
that  humility  reigns,  humility  which  so  well 
becomes  creatures,  who,  though  crowned  and 
enthroned,  are  yet  infirm,  criminal,  dying  crea- 
tures, and  who,  in  a  few  days,  will  become 
food  for  worms,  yea,  perhaps  victims  in  the 
flames  of  hell?     Is  it  in  the  palaces  of  the  great, 
that  uprightness,  good  faith,  and  sincerity  reiga* 
Yet  without  these  society  is  nothing  but  a  ban- 
ditti, treaties  are  only  snares,  and   laws  cob- 
webs, which,  to  use  a  well  known  expression, 
catch  only  weak  insects,  while  the  fierce  and 
carnivorous  break  through.     Is  it  in  the  pala- 
ces of  the   great   that  gratitude  reigns,   tiiat 
lawful  tribute  due  to  every  motion  made  to 
procure  our  happiness?     Is  it  there  that  the 
services  of  a  faithful  subject,  the  labours  of 
an  indefatigable  merchant,  the  perils  of  an  in- 
trepid soldiery,  blood  slied  and  to  be  shed,  are 
estimated  and  rewarded?     Is  it  there  that  the 
cries  of  the  wretched  are  heard,  tears  of  the 
oppressed  wiped  away,  the  claims  of  truth  ex- 
amined and  granted?     Is  it  in  the  palaces  of 
the  great  that  benevolence  reigns,  that  benevo- 
lence without  wliich  a  man  is  only  a  wild  beast! 
Is  it  there  that  tlie  "  young  ravens  which  cry" 
are  heard  and  fed?  Ps.  cxlvii.  9.     Is  it  there 
that  they  attend  to  the  bitter  complaints  of  an 
indigent  man,  ready  to  die  with  hunger,  and 
who  asks  for  no  more  than  will  just  keep  him 
alive?     Are  the  palaces  of  the  great  seats  of 
piety  and  devotion?     Is  it  there  that  schemes 
are  formed  for  the  reformation  of  manners?    Is 
it  tiiere  that  they  are  "  grieved  for  the  affliction 
of  .Joseph,"  Amos  vi.  6:  and  "take  pleasure  in 
in  dust  and  stones  of  Zion?"  Ps.  cii.  14.     Is  it 
tiicre  Unit  we  hear  the  praises  of  the  Creator.-' 
do  tiicy  celebrate  the  compassion  of  the   Re- 
deemer of  mankind? 

What  ideas  are  excited  in  our  minds  by  the 
names  of  such  as  Caligula,  Nero,  Dioclesian, 
Decius,  names  detestable  in  all  ages?  What 
ideas  could  wo  excite  in  your  minds,  were  we 
to  weigh  in  a  just  balance  the  virtues  of  such 
heroes  as  have  been  rendered  famous  by  the 
encomiums  given  them?  You  would  be  as- 
tonisticd  to  see  that  these  men,  who  have  been 
called  the  delights  of  mankind,  have  often  de- 
served execration,  and  ought  to  be  considered 
with  horror.  But  I  purposely  forbear,  and 
will  not  put  in  this  list  all  that  ought  to  be 
placed  there,  that  is  to  say,  all  those  who  have 
liad  sovereign  power,  except  a  very  few,  who 
in  comparison  are  next  to  none,  and  who  are, 
as  it  were,  lost  in  the  crowd  among  the  rest. 
And  yet  the  elevation  of  kings  makes  their 
crimes  more  communicable,  and  tiieir  exam- 
ples more  contagious;  their  sins  become  a  filthy 
vapour  infecting  the  air,  and  slicdding  their 
malignant  influence  all  over  our  cities  and  fa- 
milies, lightning,  and  thundering,  and  disturb- 


Sbr.  LVI. 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


31 


ing  the  world.  Accordingly,  you  see  in  gene- 
ral, that  what  the  king  is  in  his  kingdom,  the 
governor  is  in  liis  province;  wliat  the  governor 
is  in  his  i)ri)vinco,  tlie  nobleman  is  in  iiis  do- 
main; what  the  nobleman  is  in  his  domain,  tlie 
master  is  in  his  family.  The  multitude  is  a 
bad  guide,  mankind  are  a  dangerous  model, 
considered  in  regard  to  the  masters  who  govern 
them. 

2.  Consider  the  many  in  regard  to  divers 
professions.  What  is  the  profession  of  a  sol- 
dier, particularly  of  an  olficer  of  rank  in  the 
army?  It  is  to  defend  society,  to  maintain  re- 
ligion, to  be  a  parent  to  the  soldiery,  to  bridle 
the  licentiousness  of  arms,  to  oppose  power 
against  injustice,  to  derive  from  all  tlie  views 
of  death  that  lie  open  before  him,  motives  to 
prepare  his  accounts  to  produce  before  his 
Judge.  But  wliat  is  the  conduct  of  a  soldier.' 
Is  it  not  to  brave  society?  Is  it  not  to  trample 
upon  religion?  Is  it  not  to  set  examples  of  de- 
bauchery, licentiousness,  and  vengeance?  Is  it 
not  to  let  out  his  abilities,  and  to  sacrifice  his 
life  to  the  most  ambitious  designs,  and  to  the 
most  bloody  enterprises  of  princes?  Ig  it  not  to 
accustom  himself  to  ideas  of  death  and  judg- 
ment till  he  laughs  at  both,  to  stifle  all  remorse, 
and  to  extirpate  all  the  fears,  which  such  ob- 
jects naturally  excite  in  the  consciences  of 
other  men? 

What  is  the  profession  of  a  judge?  It  is  to 
have  no  regard  to  the  appearances  of  men,  it  is 
to  be  affable  to  all  who  appeal  to  authority,  to 
study  with  application  the  nature  of  a  cause 
which  he  is  obliged  to  decide,  it  is  patiently  to 
go  through  the  most  fatiguing  details  of  proofs 
and  objections.  But  what  is  often  the  conduct 
of  a  judge?  Is  it  not  to  be  struck  with  the  ex- 
terior diïference  of  two  parties  appearing  before 
him?  Is  it  not  to  be  inaccessible  to  tlie  poor, 
to  invent  cruel  reserves,  and  intolerable  delays? 
Is  it  not  to  grovel  in  ignorance,  and  to  hate 
study  and  labour? 

What  is  the  profession  of  a  man  learned  in 
the  law?  It  is  to  devote  his  service  only  to 
truth  and  justice,  to  plead  only  a  good  cause, 
to  assist  even  those  who  cannot  reward  his  la- 
bours. What  is  the  conduct  of  counsel?  Is  it 
not  to  support  both  the  true  and  the  false,  and 
to  maintain  by  turns  both  justice  and  iniquity? 
Is  it  not  to  adjust  his  eiVorts  to  his  own  glory, 
or  to  iiis  client ''s  ability  to  pay? 

What  is  the  profession  of  a  merchant?  It  is 
to  detest  false  weights  and  measures,  to  pay 
his  dues,  and  never  to  found  his  fortune  on 
falsehood,  fraud,  and  perjury.  But  what  is 
the  conduct  of  a  merchant'  Is  it  not  to  use 
false  weights  and  measures?  Is  it  not  to  cheat 
the  state  of  its  dues?  Is  it  not  to  indulge  an 
insatiable  avidity?  Is  it  not  to  enrich  himself 
by  telling  untruths,  by  practising  frauds,  by 
taking  false  oaths? 

What  is  the  profession  of  a  minister?  It  is 
to  devote  himself  wholly  to  truth  and  virtue, 
to  set  the  whole  church  an  example,  to  search 
into  hospitals,  and  cottages,  to  relieve  the  mise- 
ries of  the  sick  and  the  poor;  it  is  to  determine 
himself  in  his  studies,  not  by  what  will  acquire 
him  reputation  for  learning  and  eloquence,  but 
by  what  will  be  most  useful  to  the  people  over 
whom  he  is  set;  it  is  to  regulate  his  ehoice  of 
subjects,  not  by  what  will  make  himself  shine, 


but  by  what  will  most  benefit  the  people 
among  whom  he  exercises  his  ministry;  it  is  to 
take  as  much  care  of  a  dying  person  in  an  ob- 
scure family,  lying  on  a  bed  of  straw,  lost  in 
i)l)livion  and  silence,  as  of  him,  who  willi  an 
illustrious  name  lives  amidst  silver  and  gold, 
and  for  whom  the  most  magnificent  and  pomp- 
ous funeral  honours  will  bo  prepared,  it  is  to 
"  cry  aloud,  to  lift  up  his  voice  like  a  trumpet, 
and  show  the  people  their  transgressions,  and 
the  house  of  Israel  their  sins,"  Isa.  Iviii.  1; 
Mic.  iii.  8;  and  2  Cor.  v.  16;  "  it  is  to  know 
no  man  after  the  flesh"  when  he  ascends  the 
pulpit,  boldly  to  reprove  vice,  how  eminent  so- 
ever the  seat  of  it  may  be.  What  is  the  usual 
conduct  of  a  minister? O  God!  "  En- 
ter not  into  judgment  with  thy  servants,  for 
we  cannot  answer  one  complaint  of  a  thou- 
sand!" Ps.  cxliii.  2;  Job  ix.  3. 

3.  Consider  the  multitude  in  regard  to  some 
general  maxims  which  they  adopt,  and  hold  as 
rules  and  a|)proved  axioms.  Have  you  read 
in  the  gospel  the  following  maxima'  Charity 
begins  at  home.  Youth  is  a  time  of  pleasure. 
It  is  allowable  to  kill  time.  We  should  not 
pretend  to  be  saints.  Slander  is  the  salt  of 
conversation.  We  must  do  as  other  people  do. 
It  is  unworthy  of  a  man  of  honour  to  pocket 
an  affront.  A  gentleman  ought  to  avenge  him- 
self Ambition  is  the  vice  of  great  souls.  Pro- 
vided we  ccmmit  no  great  crimes,  we  suffi- 
ciently answer  our  calling.  Impurity  is  an  in- 
tolerable vice  in  a  woman,  but  it  is  pardonable 
in  a  man.  It  would  be  easy  to  enlarge  this 
catalogue.  Which  of  these  maxims,  pray, 
does  not  sap  some  of  the  first  principles 
of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ'  Yet  which  of 
these  maxims  is  not  received  in  society  as  a 
fundamental  rule  of  action,  which  we  sliould  be 
accounted  singular  and  petulent  to  condemn? 

4.  Consider  the  multitude  in  regard  to  cer- 
tain actions,  of  which  they  lavish  praise  and  xorile 
encomiwm.  We  do  not  mean  to  speak  at 
present  of  such  crimes  as  the  depravity  of  the 
world  sometimes  celebrates  under  the  notions 
of  heroical  actions.  Our  reflections  are  of  an- 
other kind.  It  is  pretty  clear,  that  depravity 
is  general,  and  piety  in  the  possession  of  a  very 
few,  when  persons  of  a  superficial  knowledge 
are  praised  for  the  depth  of  their  understand- 
ing, and  when  such  as  perform  very  small  and 
inconsiderable  actions  of  virtue  are  considered 
as  the  wonders  of  the  world.  Sometimes  I 
hear  the  world  exclaim,  Wliat  benevolence! 
What  liberality!  What  generosity!  I  inquire 
for  the  evidences  of  these  virtues,  on  which 
such  lavish  encomiums  are  bestowed;  I  expect 
to  find  another  St.  Paul,  who,  "wished  him- 
self accursed  for  his  brethren,"  Rom.  ix.  3.  I 
hope  to  meet  with  another  Moses,  praying  to 
be  "  blotted  out  of  the  book"  of  life  rather 
than  see  his  nation  perish,  Exod.  xxxii.  32. 
But  no;  this  boasted  generosity  and  charity  is 
that  of  a  man,  who  distributed  to  the  poor  on 
one  solemn  occasion,  once  in  his  life,  such  a 
sum  of  money  as  he  expends  every  day  in  pro- 
digality and  superfluity.  It  is  that  of  a  man, 
wlio  bestows  on  all  the  members  of  Jesus  Christ 
almost  as  much  as  he  does  on  the  walls  of  a 
room,  or  the  harness  of  a  horse.  I  hear  the 
world  exclaim  in  some  circumstances.  What 

I  friendship!    What  tenderness!     I  inquire  foe 


32 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


[Ser.  LVI. 


this  tender,  zealoug,  generous  friend.    I  expect 
to  find  such  an  original  as  I  have  seen  describ- 
ed in  books,  tiiough  I  have  never  met  with 
such  a  one  in  society.    I  hope  at  least  to  see 
one  example  of  a  friend  saying  to  a  dying  man, 
appoint  me  your  e.\ecutor,  and  leave  me  your 
children  to  bring  up,  and  your  widow  to  pro- 
vide for.    But  no;  I  find  nothing  but  the  friend- 
ship of  a  man,  who  by  improving  the  fortune 
of  another,  attracts  tlic  chief  advantage  to  him- 
self   I  hear  the  world  exclaiming  in  certain 
circumstances,   What   virtue!     What    purity! 
What  a  mother  of  a  family!    Again  I  look  for 
the  object  of  these  encomiums.     I  hope  to  see 
such  a  woman  as  Solomon  imagined,  a  mother 
of  a  family,  who  makes  her  house  a  house  of 
God,  and  her  children  patterns  of  piety.     But 
no;  1  meet  with  a  woman,  who  indeed  does 
not  defile  the  nuptial  bed,  who  only  does  not 
outlive  her  income,  and  teaciies  her  children 
only  tlie  little  course   of  domestic  economy. 
All  these  actions  are  praiseworthy.     All  these 
examples  ouglit  to  be  imitated.    But  is  there 
any  ground  for  exclaiming  as   if  virtue  had 
been  carried  to  its  higliest  pitch?    Are  these 
then  such  great  efforts  of  religion?     Alas!  my 
brethren,  complete  characters  must  needs  be 
very  scarce  in  the  world,  since  the  world  is  in 
raptures  on  account  of  these  imperfect  virtues; 
there  must  needs  be  a  great  dearth  of  wise 
men  in  the  world,  since  there  is  so  much  boast- 
ing of  one  man,  who  takes  only  one  step  in 
the  path  of  wisdom. 

5.  Consider  mankind  in  regard  to  certain 
decisive  occasiom,  which,  like  touchstones,  dis- 
cover their  hearts.  We  do  not  know  ourselves, 
we  form  false  ideas  of  ourselves,  when  our  vir- 
tues have  not  been  brought  to  the  test.  We 
imagine  we  incline  to  be  patient,  clement,  and 
charitable,  in  cases  where  we  are  not  tried, 
where  neither  our  fortune,  nor  our  reputation; 
nor  our  houour  are  affected:  but  tlie  moment 
a  stroke  is  aimed  at  any  of  tlicsc,  the  counte- 
nance changes,  tiie  brain  ferments,  the  mouth 
foams,  and  we  breathe  nothing  but  hatred  and 
vengeance.  Nothing  is  luore  common  among 
us  tlian  to  talk  highly  of  justice,  to  detest  and 
censure  iniquity,  and  to  engage  ourselves  in- 
violably to  follow  sucli  rules  of  equity  as  are 
marked  out  in  the  divine  law.  Let  any  man 
bring  an  action  against  us,  with  reason  or 
without,  and  all  these  ideas  vanish,  we  in- 
stantly become  familiar  with  the  very  vices  to 
which  wo  thought  wo  had  an  invincible  aver- 
sion. We  disguise  our  cause,  we  suppress  un- 
favourable circumstances,  we  impose  on  our 
counsel,  we  try  to  take  even  the  judijes  by  sur- 
prise, we  pretend  to  make  great  matters  of  the 
importance  of  our  rank,  the  worth  of  our 
names,  the  credit  of  our  families,  the  tone  of 
our  voices,  and  all  this  wo  wish  to  incorporate 
in  our  cause.  A  disinterested  si)irit  is  always 
tlie  subject  of  our  utmost  admiration  and 
praise.  A  generous  man  is  the  admiration  of 
all  mankind,  his  noble  actions  unite  all  hearts, 
and  every  man  is  eager  to  give  such  actions 
their  dignity  and  praise;  but  no  sooner  have 
we  a  little  business  to  do,  in  which  wo  have  no 
kind  of  interest,  but  disinterestedness  appears 
odious  to  ns,  and  magnanimity  seems  to  us 
more  proper  for  a  hero  of  a  romance  than  for  a 
man  living  and  acting  in  society,  and  generous 


actions  appear  to  us  mere  creatures  of  imagi- 
nation. O  how  little  does  the  multitude  de- 
serve consideration  in  regard  to  manners! 

IV.  No  more  ought  tiiey  to  be  imitated  in 
regard  to  the  manner,  in  which  they  quit  the 
world.  Here  I  foresee,  my  brethren,  you  will 
all  side  witii  one  another  against  our  doctrine, 
and  that  we  shall  be  obliged  to  blame  both  per- 
sons and  things  about  dying  people;  such  as 
are  dying,  such  as  surround  them,  such  as  visit 
them;  in  short,  all  are  in  di.sorder  in  the  case 
before  us.  Almost  every  person  that  dies  is 
canonized.  If  the  light  of  Christianity  had 
not  abolislied  deification,  we  sliowld  have  filled 
heaven  with  saints,  and  heroes,  and  deified 
souls.  Each  house  of  mourning  echoes  with 
the  praises  of  the  dead,  none  of  his  looks  to- 
wards heaven  are  forgotten,  not  a  sigh,  not  an 
ejaculation  has  escaped  notice.  The  funeral 
convoys  of  persons  the  most  worldly,  whose 
hearts  had  been  the  most  hardened  in  sin,  are 
all  uttering  orations  in  praise  of  the  dead.  For 
our  parts,  my  brethren,  we,  who  have  seen  a 
great  number  of  sick  people,  and  attended 
many  in  their  dying  hours,  we  freely  grant, 
that  the  salvation  of  many  of  them  is  probable. 
We  have  hardly  seen  one,  of  whose  salvation 
we  quite  despair;  but  how  seldom  have  we 
been  inclined  to  say,  while  we  saw  such  people 
expire  uttering  the  language  of  the  most  emi- 
nent saints  in  Scripture,  "  Let  us  die  the  death 
of  these  rigliteous"  people,  and  "  let  our  last 
end  be  like  theirs!"  Numb,  xxiii.  10.  I  will 
give  you  a  short  list  of  general  mistakes  on  this 
subject. 

The  first  mistake  is  this.  Most  sick  people 
are  ingenuous  to  disguise  the  danger  of  their 
illness.  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world. — 
Whenever  a  dangerous  illness  attacks  you,  be 
aware  of  your  condition,  and  let  each  say  to 
himself,  I  have  not  long  to  live,  at  least  this 
may  be  my  last  illness.  My  brethren,  this  sup- 
position is  never  unseasonable,  we  are  in  little 
danger  of  being  deceived  by  thinking  death  at 
hand,  for  the  numberless  accidents  to  which 
wo  are  exposed  justify  the  thought.  Is  there 
any  thing  extravagant,  pray,  in  alfirming  that 
sickness  added  to  all  these  accidents,  renders 
the  near  approach  of  death  highly  probable? 

The  second  mistake  is  this.  Most  dying 
people  put  otf  the  regulation  of  their  temporal 
atlairs  too  long.  Be  not  conformed  to  this 
world.  You  should  take  })atterns  from  better 
models,  both  for  reasons  of  af lection,  and  rea- 
sons of  prudence.  True  affection  to  a  family 
engages  a  man  to  preclude  in  favour  of  his 
heirs  such  troubles  and  divisions  as  are  the  in- 
separable consc(iuenccs  of  an  undivided  or  per- 
plexed estate.  Prudence,  too,  will  foresee, 
that  while  our  minds  are  all  occupied  about 
temi)oral  affairs,  a  thousand  ideas  will  intrude 
to  disturb  our  devotion.  Do  not  wait  till  the 
last  moment  to  settle  your  affairs,  to  make  your 
will,  to  dispose  of  your  family,  and  be  not  so 
weak  as  to  imagine  that  the  discharge  of  these 
necessary  duties  will  hiislen  your  death.  Em- 
ploy yourselves  wholly  about  the  state  of  your 
souls,  and  let  each  say  to  himself,  since  I  have 
been  in  the  world  I  have  hardly  devoted  one 
whole  day  to  devotion:  since  1  have  been  a 
member  of  the  church  I  have  Ijcen  exercised 
about  affaira  which  interest  the  whole  society; 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


Ser.  LVL] 

but  now  that  I  am  come  to  the  end  of  my  life, 
now  that  I  am  passing  out  of  this  world,  now 
that  I  am  going  where  I  shall  have  no  more 
portion  for  ever  in  any  thing  done  under  the 
su»i,  disturb  mc  no  more,  ye  worldly  ideas;  thou 
fashion  of  this  world  passing  away,  appear  no 
more  in  my  sight:  yo  wild  fowls,  interrupt  my 
sacrifice  no  more. 

The  third  mistake  is  this.  Most  dying  peo- 
ple delay  sending  for  their  ministers  till  tlie 
last  moment.  They  would  have  us  do  violence 
to  the  laws  of  nature,  they  set  us  to  exl»ort 
trunks,  to  instruct  carcasses,  to  prepare  skin 
and  bones  for  eternity.  "  Be  not  conformed  to 
this  world."  Why  should  ye  delay?  Is  there 
any  thing  odious  in  our  ministry?  We  do  not 
bring  death  along  with  us,  we  do  not  hasten  its 
approach:  if  we  denounce  the  judgments  of  God 
against  you,  it  is  not  vvitli  a  design  to  terrify 
you,  but  to  free  you  from  them,  and  to  "  pull 
you  out  of  the  fire,"  Jude  23. 

To  these  I  add  a  fourth  mistake.  Most  dy- 
ing people  think  it  a  duty  to  tell  their  pastors 
of  excellent  sentiments,  which  indeed  they  have 
not,  and  they  are  afraid  to  discover  their  defects. 
When  death  makes  his  formidable  appearance 
before  them,  they  think  religion  requires  them 
to  say,  they  are  quite  willing  to  die.  We  de- 
sire, say  they,  to  depart,  when  alas!  all  their 
desires  are  to  make  a  tabernacle  in  the  world, 
for  it  is  good,  they  think,  to  be  there.  They 
tremble  at  the  coming  of  Christ,  and  yet  they 
cry,  "  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly."  Ah! 
"  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world,"  open  thy 
heart  that  it  may  be  known,  discover  the  mala- 
dies of  thy  soul,  that  we  may  apply  such  reme- 
dies as  are  proper.  Do  not  imagine  you  will 
acquire  such  sentiments  and  emotions  as  saints 
of  the  first  order  had  by  talking  their  language; 
but  imbibe  their  principles  in  your  mind,  and 
their  tempers  in  your  heart,  before  you  make 
use  of  their  language. 

The  fifth  mistake  is  this.  Most  dying  people 
speak  to  their  ministers  only  in  the  presence  of 
a  great  number  of  attendants,  and  most  attend- 
ants interfere  in  what  ministers  say  on  those 
occasions.  "  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world." 
Two  reasons  may  convince  you  of  tlie  necessity 
of  being  alone.  The  first  regards  the  pastor. 
Surrounding  attendants  divert  his  attention 
from  the  sick  person.  The  second  regards  the 
sick  person  himself  Would  it  be  just  or  kind 
to  give  him  directions  in  public?  Wliat!  would 
you  have  us  in  the  presence  of  a  husband  lay 
open  the  intrigues  of  an  immodest  wife,  and 
endeavour  to  bring  her  to  repent  of  her  lasci- 
viousness  by  convicting  her  of  her  crimes? 
Would  you  have  us  reprove  the  head  of  a  fa- 
mily for  the  iniquity  that  has  disgraced  his  long 
life,  in  the  presence  of  his  son?  Would  you  have 
us  exhort  a  dying  man  to  make  restitution  of 
his  ill-gotten  wcaltli  in  the  presence  of  a  hun- 
gry heir,  who  already  gluts  his  eyes,  and  sa- 
tiates his  soul  witii  hopes  of  succession?  Were 
we  casuists  after  the  Roman  fashion,  did  we 
compel  consciences  to  reveal  secrets  to  us, 
which  ought  to  be  confessed  to  God  alone,  did 


38 


abyss  of  eternal  misery,  respect  our  conduct, 
and  condescend  to  submit  to  our  instruction. 

To  these  I  add  one  mistake  more.  Most  dy- 
ing people  trust  too  much  to  their  ministers,  and 
take  too  little  pains  themselves  to  form  such 
dispositions  as  a  dying  bed  rerpiires.  "  Be  not 
conformed  to  this  world."  It  is  not  enough  to 
have  external  iiejp  to  die  well,  we  ourselves 
nmst  concur  in  this  great  work,  we  must,  by 
profound  meditation,  by  frequent  reflections, 
and  by  fervent  prayers,  support  ourselves  under 
tiiis  last  attack,  and  thus  put  the  last  hand  to 
the  work  of  our  salvation.  It  is  true,  the  in- 
firmities of  your  bodies  will  afiect  your  minds, 
and  will  often  interrupt  your  religious  exercises: 
but  no  matter,  God  does  not  require  of  a  dying 
person  connected  meditations,  accurate  rellec- 
tions,  precise  and  formal  prayers,  for  one  sigh, 
one  tear,  one  ejaculation  of  your  soul  to  God, 
one  serious  wisii  rising  from  the  bottom  of  your 
heart  will  be  highly  esteemed  by  the  Lord,  and 
will  draw  down  new  favours  upon  you. 

To  conclude.  The  nmltitude  is  a  bad  guide 
in  regard  to  faith,  in  regard  to  manners,  and  in 
regard  to'  departing  out  of  this  life.  A  man 
who  desires  to  be  saved,  should  be  always  upon 
his  guard  lest  he  should  be  rolled  down  the  tor- 
rent: he  ought  to  compile  in  his  closet,  or  rather 
in  his  conscience,  a  religion  apart,  such  as  is, 
not  that  of  tho  children  of  the  world,  but  that 
of  ihe  disciples  of  wisdom.  "  Be  not  conformed 
to  this  world." 

I  finish  with  two  reflections.  I  address  the 
first  to  those  who  derive  from  this  discourse  no 
consequences  to  direct  their  actions:  and  the 
second  to  such  as  refer  it  to  its  true  design. 

First.  I  address  myself  to  you  who  do  not 
draw  any  consequences  from  tliis  discourse  to 
regulate  your  actions.  You  have  seen  a  por- 
trait of  tiie  multitude.  I  suppose  you  acknow- 
ledge the  likeness,  and  acquiesce  in  the  judg- 
ment we  have  made.  It  seems,  too  many  proofs 
and  demonstrations  establish  this  proposition, 
the  multitude  is  a  bad  guide.  Now  you  may 
follow  wliicli  example  you  please.  You  may 
make  your  choice  between  the  maxims  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  maxims  of  the  world.  But  we 
have  a  right  to  require  one  thing  of  you,  wiiich 
you  cannot  refuse  us,  without  injustice;  that  is, 
that  granting  the  genius  of  tlie  multitude,  when 
you  are  told  you  are  destroying  yourselves,  you 
do  not  pretend  to  iiave  refuted  us  by  replying, 
we  conduct  ourselves  as  the  world  does,  and 
every  body  does  what  you  condemn  in  us. 
Thanks  be  to  God  your  proposition  is  not 
strictly  true!  Tiianks  be  to  God,  the  rule  has 
some  exceptions!  Tliere  are  many  regenerate 
souls,  iiidden  perhaps  from  tlie  eyes  of  men,  but 
visible  to  God.  There  are  even  some  saints, 
who  siiine  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  world,  and 
who,  to  use  the  expression  of  Jesus  Christ,  are 
a  "  city  set  on  a  hill,"  Matt.  v.  14.  What  then, 
you  never  cast  your  eyes  on  the  most  illustrious 
objects  in  this  world!  Do  you  reckon  for  no- 
thing what  alone  merits  observation  in  society, 
and  what  constitutes  the  true  glory  of  it?  Have 
you  no  value  for  men  for  whose  sake  the  world 


we  interfere  with  your  families  and  properties,  |  subsists,  and  society  is  preserved? 
there  would  be  some  ground  for  your  scruples:  :  However,  your  proposition  is  indisputable  in 
but  while  we  desire  nothing  but  to  exonerate  j  a  general  sense,  and  we  are  obliged  to  allow  it, 
yoiir  consciences,  and  to  awake  your  souls  to  a  for  our  whole  discoursii  tends  to  elucidate  and 
sense  of  danger  before  they  be  plunged  into  an  1  establissh  the  pohit.  Allege  this  proposition,  but 
Vol.  1L — 5 


34 


GENERAL  MISTAKES. 


[Ser.  LVI. 


do  not  allege  it  for  the  purpose  of  opposing  the 
censures  you  have  heard,  or  of  gettiiiir  rid  of 
our  reproofs.  By  answering  in  this  manner 
yon  f^ivc  us  an  advantage  over  you,  you  lay  a 
foundation  which  you  mean  to  destroy,  you  do 
not  furnisli  yourselves  with  a  shield  against 
your  niiiiisters,  but  you  yourselves  supply  them 
with  arms  to  wound  and  destroy  you.  Why 
do  we  declaim  against  your  conduct'  What 
do  we  mean  when  we  reprove  your  way  of  liv- 
ing, e.xcept  to  convince  you  that  it  is  not  an- 
swerable to  tlie  Christian  character  which  you 
bear?  What  do  we  mean  e.\cept  that  you  break 
the  vows  made  for  you  in  your  baptism,  and 
which  you  yourselves  have  often  ratified  at  the 
Lord's  table?  What,  in  one  word,  except  that 
you  do  not  obey  the  laws  of  the  gospel?  But 
what  can  you  advance  more  proper  to  strengtii- 
en  the  testimony  which  we  bear  against  you 
than  liiat  wliicli  3'ou  advance  to  weaken  it,  that 
is,  that  you  live  as  the  world  live? 

All  the  world,  say  you,  conduct  themselves 
as  we  do,  and  every  body  docs  what  you  cen- 
sure us  for  doing.  But  all  the  world  conduct 
tiiemselvcs  badly,  all  the  world  violate  the  spi- 
rit of  religion,  all  the  world  attack  the  maxims 
of  Jesus  Christ,  all  tlic  world  run  in  the  broad 
road  of  perdition,  all  the  world  are  destroying 
themselves,  and  the  apostle  exhorts  us  not  to 
take  the  world  for  an  example. 

Secondly,  I  address  myself  to  you  who  sin- 
cerely desire  to  apply  this  discourse  to  its  true 
desiorn.  I  grant,  tlu;  road  opened  to  you  is  dif- 
ficult. To  resist  tiic  torrent,  to  brave  the  mul- 
titude, to  see  one's  self,  like  Elijah,  alone  on 
the  Jjord's  side,  and,  in  this  general  apostacy, 
in  which  a  Christian  so  often  finds  liimself, 
when  he  desires  to  sacrifice  all  his  duty,  to  re- 
collect motives  of  attaclnnent  to  it,  tliis  is  one 
of  the  noblest  efforts  of  Christian  heroism. 

However,  after  all,  it  would  argue  great  pue- 
rility to  magnify  our  ideas  of  the  crowd,  the 
manv,  the  multitude;  it  would  be  cliildish  to  be 
too  rnuch  struck  with  these  ideas,  every  body 
thinks  in  tliis  mamier,  all  the  world  act  tiius. 
I  artirm,  that  trutii  and  virtue  have  more  parti- 
sans than  error  and  vice,  and  (tod  has  more 
disciples  than  Satan.  What  do  you  call  the 
crowd,  the  many,  the  multitude?  What  do  you 
mean  by  all  the  world?  What!  You  and  your 
companions,  your  family,  your  acquaintances, 
your  fellow-citizens,  the  inliabitants  of  tliis 
globe,  to  wliicli  the  Creator  has  confined  you; 
is  this  what  you  call  all  the  world?  What  lit- 
tleness of  ideas!  Cast  your  eyes  on  that  little 
molehill,  occupied  by  a  ihw  thousand  ants,  lend 
them  intelligence,  propose  to  one  of  these  in- 
sects other  maxims  than  those  of  his  fellows, 
exhort  him  to  have  a  little  more  ambition  than 
to  occupy  a  tiny  imperceptible  space  upon  that 
molehill,  animate  him  to  form  projects  more 
noble  than  that  of  collocling  a  few  grains  of 
corn,  and  then  j)ul  into  the  mouth  of  this  little 
emmet  the  snmo  pretext  that  you  make  use  of 
to  ns;  !  shall  be  alone,  all  the  world  conduct 
themselves  in  another  inarmer.  Would  you  not 
pity  this  insect'  Would  not  he  appear  more  con- 
temptible to  you  fur  his  mean  and  spiritless  ideas 


than  for  the  diminutiveness  of  his  body?  Would 
you  not  look  with  disdain  on  an  ant,  that  had 
no  other  ambition  than  that  of  taking  for  a  mo- 
del other  insects  about  him,  and  preferring  their 
approbation  before  that  of  mankind,  who  hold 
a  rank  so  high  in  the  scale  of  the  world?  My 
brethren,  give  what  colours  you  will  to  this 
imagination,  it  is  however  certain,  tliat  you 
will  form  unjust  ideas  of  this  insect.  An  em- 
met has  no  relation  to  those  beings,  which  you 
propose  to  him  formodcds.  Such  ideas  of  hap- 
piness as  you  trace  to  him  have  no  pro|)ortion 
to  his  faculties.  Is  an  emmet  capable  of  science 
to  be  allured  by  the  company  of  the  learned? 
Can  an  ant  form  plans  of  sieges  and  battles  to 
render  himself  sensible  of  that  glory,  which  ex- 
ploits of  war  acquire,  and  for  which  the  heroes 
of  the  world  sacrifice  their  repose  and  their 
lives? 

It  is  you,  who  have  that  meanness  of  soul, 
which  you  just  now  pitied  in  an  ant.  You  in- 
habit cities  and  provinces,  which,  compared 
with  the  rest  of  the  world,  resemble  the  size  of 
molehills;  the  whole  globe  itself  is  nothing,  in 
comparison  of  the  immense  spaces,  in  which 
other  works  of  the  Creator  are  lodged.  You 
creep  on  earth  with  a  handful  of  men  much  les» 
in  comparison  with  the  thousand  thousands  of 
other  intelligences  than  an  ant  hill  is  in  com- 
parison of  mankind.  You  have  intimate  rela- 
tions to  these  intelligences;  you,  like  them,  are 
capable  of  great  and  noble  functions;  like  them 
you  are  capable  of  knowledge;  like  them  you 
are  able  to  know  the  Supreme  Being;  you  can 
love  like  them;  you  can  form  tender  and  deli- 
cate connexions  as  they  can;  and  like  them  you 
are  destined  to  eternal  duration  and  felicity. 

Do  not  say  then,  1  shall  be  alone,  nobody 
lives  as  you  would  have'  me  live.  They  are 
the  men,  who  surround  you,  tiiat  are  nuboily  in 
comparison  of  the  intelligences,  whom  1  propose 
to  you  for  examples.  It  ill  suits  insignificant 
men  to  consider  themselves  alone  as  in  the  cen- 
tre of  divine  benevolence,  and  as  the  only  sub- 
jects of  a  monarch,  who  reigns  over  all  exist- 
ence. "  He  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
whence  the  inhabitants  appear  to  him  as  grass- 
hoppers. He  bringcth  princes  to  notliing,  he 
coDsiderelh  the  judges  of  tiio  earth  as  vanity, 
lie  shall  l)low  upon  them,  and  they  shall  wi- 
ther, and  the  wiiirlwind  shall  take  lliem  away 
like  stubble,"  Isa.  xl.  22. 

But  ye,  celestial  intelligences,  yo  seraphim 
burning  with  love,  ye  angels  mighty  in  strength, 
incssengers  of  the  divine  will,  spirilx  rapid  a» 
the  wind,  and  penetrating  as  fire,  ye  '•redeemed 
of  all  nations,  all  kindred,  iiil  j)coi>le,  all 
tongue»,"  Rev.  v.  9;  ye  make  the  crowd,  ye 
fill  the  court  of  the  sovereign  of  the  world;  and, 
when  wo  refuse  to  conform  ourselves  to  this 
world,  we  imitate  you;  and  when  the  slaves  of 
the  workl  sliall  be  loaded  with  chains  of  dark- 
ness, we  shall  share  with  you  the  "river  of 
pleasures"  at  the  right  hand  of  that  God  whom 
yon  serve,  and  to  who.se  service,  we,  like  you, 
devote  ourselves.  God  grant  ns  this  grace! 
To  him  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever. 
Amen. 


Ser.  LVU.] 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


35 


SERMON  LVII. 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETl. 


1  Timothy  iv.  8. 
Godlineas  is  prnfUnblc  unto  all   things,  having; 
promise  of  the  life  that  noio  is,  and  of  that 
which  is  to  come. 

There  never  was  a  disposition  more  odi- 
ous, or  more  unjust  tlmii  tliat  of  tlie  proHirie 
Jews,  of  whom  Jeremiah  speaks  in  tiie  forty- 
f<>urth  chapter  of  his  prophecies.     lie  liad  ad- 
dressed to  tliein  the  most  pressing  and  patheti- 
cal  e.xiiortations  to  dissuade  them  from  wor- 
shipping tiie  goddess  Isis,  and  to  divert  tliem 
from  the  infamous  dehaucherics,  with  which 
the  Egvptians    accompanied   it.     Their  re[)ly 
was  in  tiiese  words,  "  As  for  the  word  tliatthou 
hast  spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
we  will  not  hearken  unto  tliec:  hut  we  will 
certainly  do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  forth  out 
of  our  own  moutii,  to  burn  incense  nnto  the 
<|ucen  of  heaven,  and  to  pour  out  drink-ofler- 
ings  unto  her,  as  we  have  done,  we  and  our 
fatlicrs,  our  kings  and  our  princes,  in  the  cities 
of  Judah,  and  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  for 
then  had  we  plenty  of  victuals,  and  were  well 
and  saw  no  evil:  but  since  we  left  off  to  burn 
incense  to  the  queen  of  heaven,  and  to  pour 
out  drink-offerings  unto  lier,  we  have  wanted 
all  things,  and   have   been  consumed  by  tlie 
sword,  and  by  the  famine,"  ver.  16 — 18.     No- 
thing can  equal  the  sacrifices  which  religion 
requires    of  us;    therefore   nothing   ought   to 
equal  the  recompense  which  it  sets  before  tis. 
Sometimes  it  requires  us,  like  the  father  of  the 
faithful,  to  quit  our  country  and  our  relations, 
and  to  go  out,  not  knowing  whither  we  go,  ac- 
cording to  the  e.\-pression  of  St.  Paul,  Heb.  xi. 
S.     Sometimes  it  requires  us  to  tread  in  the 
bloody  steps  of  those  who  "  had  trial  of  cruel 
mockings  and  scourgings,  yea,  of  bonds  and 
imprisonment.    Some  were  stoned,  others  were 
sawn  asunder,  were  teuipted,  were  slain  with 
the  sword,  wandered  about  in  sheep  skins,  and 
goat  skins,  being  destitute,  atllicted,  torment- 
ed," ver.  36,  37.  Always  it  calls  us  to  triumph 
over  our  passions,  to  renounce  our  own  senses, 
to  mortify  the  flesh  with  its  desires,  and  to 
bring  all  the  thoughts  of  our  minds,  and  all 
the  emotions  of  our  hearts  into  obedience  to 
Jesus  Christ.     To  animate  us  to  sacrifices  so 
great,  it  is  necessary  we  should  find  in  religion 
a  superiority  of  happiness  and  reward,  and  it 
would  be  to  rob  it  of  all  its  disciples,  to  repre- 
sent it  as  fatal  to  the  interests  of  such  as  pur- 
sue it. 

As  this  disposition  is  odious,  so  it  is  unjust. 
The  miserable  Jews,  of  whom  the  prophet 
Jeremiah  speaks,  did  indeed  consult  the  pro- 
phets of  God,  but  they  would  not  obey  their 
voice;  they  would  sometimes  suspend  their 
idolatrous  rites,  but  they  would  never  entirely 
renoimce  them:  they  discovered  some  zeal 
for  the  e.xterior  of  religion,  but  they  paid  no 
attention  to  the  spirit  and  substance  of  it,  and 
as  God  refused  to  grant  to  this  outside  of  piety 
such  advantages  as  he  had  promised  to  the 


truly  godly,  they  complained  that  the  true  re- 
ligion liad  been  to  them  a  source  of  misery. 

Were  they  the  Jews  of  the  prophet's  time? 
Are  tlK.'v  only  Jews  who  make  such  a  criminal 
complaint?  Are  they  the  only  persons,  who, 
placing  religion  in  certain  exterior  perform 
ances,  and  mutilated  virtues,  complain  that 
they  d(>  not  feel  that  peace  of  conscience,  those 
ineffable  transports,  that  anticipated  heaven, 
wliif;h  are  Ibretastes  and  earnests  of  eternal 
joy?  We  are  going  to-day,  my  brethren,  to 
set  before  you  the  treasures,  which  God  opens 
to  us  in  communion  with  him:  but  we  are 
going  at  the  same  time  to  trace  out  the  cha- 
racter of  those,  on  whom  they  are  bestowed. 
'I'liis  is  the  design  of  this  discourse,  and  for 
this  purpose  we  will  divide  it  into  two  parts: 
First,  v.'e  will  examine  what  the  apostle  moans 
by  "godliness,"  in  the  words  of  the  text:  and 
secondly,  Point  out  the  advantages  affixed 
to  it.  "  Godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things, 
having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and  of 
that  which  is  to  come." 

I.  What  is  gndliness  or  piety?  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  include  an  idea  of  it  in  the  bounds  of 
what  is  called  a  definition.  Piety  is  a  habit  of 
knowledge  in  the  mind — rectitude  in  the  con- 
science— sacrifice  in  the  life — and  zeal  in  the 
heart.  By  the  knowledge,  that  guides  it,  it  is 
distinguished  from  the  visions  of  the  supersti- 
tious: by  the  rectitude,  from  whence  it  pro- 
ceeds, it  is  distinguished  from  hypocrisy;  by 
the  sacrifice,  which  justifies  it,  it  is  distinguish- 
ed from  tlic  unmeaning  obedience  of  him,  who 
goes  as  a  happy  constitution  leads  him;  in  fine, 
by  the  fervour  that  animates  it,  it  is  distin- 
guished from  the  languishing  emotions  of  the 
lukewarm. 

1.  Piety  supposes  knoivlcdge  in  the  mind. 
Wlien  God  reveals  a  doctrine  of  religion  to  us, 
he  treats  us  as  reasonable  beings,  capable  of 
examination  and  reflection.  He  does  not  re- 
quire us  to  admit  any  truth  without  evidence. 
If  he  would  have  us  believe  the  existence  of  a 
first  cause,  he  engraves  it  on  every  particle  of 
the  universe.  If  he  would  have  us  believe 
the  divinity  of  revelation,  he  would  make 
some  character  of  that  divinity  sliiiie  in  every 
part  of  it.  Would  he  have  us  believe  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  he  attests  it  in  every 
page  of  the  sacred  book.  Accordingly,  with- 
out previous  knowledge,  piety  can  neither 
support  us  under  temptations,  nor  enable  us  to 
render  to  God  such  homage  as  is  worthy  of 
him. 

It  cannot  support  us  in  temptation.  When 
Satan  endeavours  to  seduce  us  he  offers  us 
tlie  allurements  of  present  and  sensible  good, 
and  exposes  in  our  sight  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  tiie  glory  of  them.  If  we  have  no- 
thing to  oppose  against  him  but  superficial 
opinions  of  a  precarious  and  ignorant  system, 
we  shall  not  find  oureelves  in  a  condition  to 
witlistand  him. 

Nor  can  jiiety  destitute  of  knowledge  ena- 
ble us  to  render  to  God  such  worship  as  is 
worthy  of  him:  for  when  do  we  render  to 
God  worship  suitable  to  his  majesty?  Is  it 
whei>  submitting  to  the  church,  and  saying  to 
a  man,  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  Rabbi, 
Rabbi,  we  place  bim  on  a  sovereign  throne, 
and  make  our  reason  fall  prostrate  before  his 


86 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


[Ser.  Lvn. 


intelligence?  No,  certainly;  it  is  wlien,  sub- 
mitting ourselves  to  the  decisions  of  fJod,  we 
regard  him  as  tlie  source  of  truth  and  know- 
ledge, and  believe,  on  his  testimony,  doctrines 
the  most  abstruse,  and  mysteries  the  most  sub- 
lime. 

True  piety  is  wise;  it  rises  out  of  those  pro- 
found rellections  which  tlie  godly  man  makes 
on  the  excellence  of  religion.  "  Open  thou 
mine  eyes,"  said  the  prophet  formerly,  "  that  I 
may  beiiold  wondrous  things  out  of  thy  law. 
I  have  more  understanding  than  all  my  teacli- 
ers,  for  thy  testimonies  are  my  meditation. 
Tliy  word  is  a  lamp  unto  my  feet,  and  a  light 
unto  my  path.  Mine  eyes  prevent  tiie  night 
watches,  that  I  might  meditate  in  tliy  word," 
Ps.  cxix.  18.  99.  105.  148. 

This  is  the  first  character  of  godliness,  and 
this  character  distinguishes  it  from  supersti- 
tion. A  superstitious  man  does  not  derive  his 
principles  from  the  source  of  knowledge.  A 
family  tradition,  a  tale,  a  legend,  a  monkish 
fable,  the  reverie  of  a  confessor,  the  design  of  a 
council,  this  is  his  law,  this  is  his  light,  this  is 
his  gospel. 

2.  Piety  must  be  sincere,  and  this  distin- 
guishes it  from  hypocrisy.  A  hypocrite  puts 
on  all  the  appearance  of  religion,  and  adorns 
himself  with  tiie  most  sacred  part  of  it.  Ob- 
Berve  his  deportment,  it  is  an  affected  gravity, 
which  nothing  can  alter.  Hear  his  conversa- 
tion, he  talks  witii  a  studied  industry  on  the 
most  solemn  sul)jcct8,  he  is  full  of  sententious 
sayings,  and  pious  maxims,  and  so  severe,  that 
he  is  ready  to  take  oflence  at  the  most  innocent 
actions.  Mind  his  dress,  it  is  precise  and  sin- 
gular, and  a  sort  of  sanctity  is  affected  in  all 
his  furniture,  and  in  all  his  ccjuipage.  Follow 
him  to  a  place  of  worship,  there  particularly 
his  hypocrisy  erects  its  tribunal,  and  tiiere  he 
displays  his  religion  in  all  its  pomp.  There 
he  seems  more  assiduous  than  the  most  wise 
and  zealous  Christians.  Tliere  he  lifts  up  his 
eyes  to  heaven.  There  ho  sighs.  Tiiere  he 
bedews  the  eartli  witli  his  tears.  In  one  word, 
whatever  seems  venerable  in  tlie  churcii  he 
takes  pains  to  practise,  and  ple:isure  to  dis- 
play. 

Jesus  Christ  has  given  us  the  original  of 
this  portrait  in  the  persons  of  tiie  pharisees  of 
his  time;  and  tlie  only  inconvenience  we  find 
in  describing  such  characters  is,  tliat,  speak 
where  we  will,  it  seems  as  if  we  intended  to 
depict  such  individuals  of  the  present  age  as 
eeein  to  have  taken  these  ancient  hypocrites 
for  their  model.  Never  was  the  art  of  coun- 
terfeiting piety  carried  to  sucii  perfection  by  any 
men  as  l)y  tlio  old  Pharisees.  They  separated 
themselves  from  a  commerce  with  mankind, 
whom  they  called  in  contempt  "  people  of  the 
world."»  They  made  long  prayers.  They 
fasted  every  Monday  and  Friday.  They  lay 
on  planks  and  stones.  Tliey  put  thorns  on  the 
bottom  of  tlieir  gowns  to  tear  their  flesh. 
They  wore  strait  girdles  about  their  bodies. 
They  paid  tithes,  not  only  according  to  law, 
but  beyond  wiiat  the  law  required.  Above  all, 
thoy  were  great  makers  of  proselytes,  and  this 
was  in  Bome  sort  their  distinguishing  charac- 

*  See  Godwin'»  Mosi'i  and  Aaron.  Book  I.  Chap.  X. 
Sect.  7. 


t«r,  and  when  they  had  made  one,  they  never 
failed  to  instruct  him  thoroughly  to  hate  all 
such  as  were  not  of  their  opinion  on  particular 
questions.  All  this  was  show,  all  this  pro- 
ceeded from  a  deep  hypocrisy:  by  all  this 
they  had  no  other  design  than  to  acquire  repu- 
tation for  holiness,  and  to  make  themselves 
masters  of  the  people,  wiio  are  more  easily 
taken  with  exterior  appearances  than  with 
solid  virtue. 

Such  is  the  character  of  hypocrisy,  a  cha- 
racter that  God  detests.  How  often  does  Jesus 
Christ  denounce  anatliemas  against  people  of 
this  ciiaracter?  How  oflen  does  he  cry  con- 
cerning them,  "  wo,  wo?"  Sincerity  is  one 
character  of  true  piety,  "  O  Lord,  thou  hast 
proved  my  heart,  thou  hast  visited  me  in  the 
night,  tliou  hast  tried  me,  and  shall  find  no- 
thing; I  am  purposed  that  my  mouth  shall 
not  transgress.  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things, 
thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee,"  Ps.  xvii.  3; 
John  xxi.  n.  This  character  makes  our  love 
to  God  resemble  his  to  us.  When  God  gives 
himself  to  us  in  religion,  it  is  not  in  mere  ap- 
pearances and  protestations:  but  it  is  with 
real  sentiments,  emanations  of  heart. 

3.  Piety  supposes  sacrifice,  and  by  this  we 
distinguish  it  from  a  devotion  of  humour  and 
constitution,  with  which  it  has  been  too  often 
confounded.     There    is  a   devotee  of  temper 
and   habit,  who,  really,  has  a  happy  di.sposi- 
tion,  but  which  may  be  attended  with  danger- 
ous consequences.     Such  a  man  consults  less 
the  law  of  God  to  regulate  his  conduct  than 
his  own  inclinations,  and  the  nature  of  his  con- 
stitution.    As,  by  a  singular  favour  of  heaven, 
he  has  not  received  one  of  those  irregular  con- 
stitutions, which  most  men  have,  but  a  happy 
natural  disposition,  improved  too  by  a  good  edu- 
cation, he  finds  in  himself  but  little  indispo- 
sition to  the  general  maxims   of  Christianity. 
Being  naturally  melancholy,  he  does  not  break 
out  into  unbridled  mirth,  and  e.\cessive  plea- 
sures.    As  he  is  naturally  collected  in  himself, 
and  not  communicative,  he  does  not  follow  the 
crowd  through  the  turbulence  and  tumult  of 
the  world.     As  he  is  naturally  inactive,  and 
soon  disgusted  with  labour  and  pains-taking, 
we  never  see  him  animated  with  the  madne^ 
of  gcadding  about  every  where,  weigiiing  him- 
self down  with  a  multitude  of  business,  not  per- 
mitting any  tiling  to  happen  in  society  without 
being  himself  the  first  mover,  and  putting  to  it 
the  last  iiand.     These  are  all  happy  incidents; 
not  to  run  into  excessive  pleasure,  not  to  fol- 
low the  crowd  in  the  noise  and  tumult  of  the 
world,  not  to  run  mad  with  hurry,  and  weary 
himself  with  an  infinity  of  busine.>is,  to  give  up 
the  mind  to  recollection,  all  this  is  worthy  of 
praise;  but  what  is  a  devotion  of  this  kind, 
that  owes  its  birth  only  to  incidents  of  this 
sort'     I  compare    it  to    the  faith  of  the  man 
who   believes  the   truths  of  tlie   gospel   only 
through  a  headstrong  prejudice,  only  because, 
by  a  lucky  chance,  he  had  a  father  or  a  tutor 
who  believed  them.     As  such  a  man  cannot 
have  a  faith  acceptable  to  God,  so  neither  can 
he  who  obeys  the  laws  of  God,  because,  by  a 
sort  of  chance  of  this  kind,  they  are  conforma- 
ble to  his  natural  temper,  offer  to  him  the  sa- 
crifice of  true  obedience.     Had  you  been  na- 
turally inclined  to  dissipation,  you  would  have 


Ser.  LVII.] 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


37 


been  excessively  dissipated,  for  the  very  same 
reason  that  you  are  now  excessively  fond  of 
retirement.  Had  you  been  naturally  indus- 
trious, you  would  have  exceeded  in  labouring 
on  the  very  principle  which  now  inclines  you 
to  be  too  fond  of  ease  and  stillness.  Had  you 
been  naturally  inclined  to  mirth,  you  would 
have  shown  e.xcessive  levity,  on  the  very  prin- 
ciple that  now  turns  your  gravity  into  gloom 
and  melancholy.  Would  you  know  your- 
selves? See,  examine  yourselves.  You  say, 
your  piety  inclines  you  to  surmount  all  temp- 
tations to  dissipation;  but  does  it  enable  you  to 
resist  those  of  retirement'  it  makes  you  firm 
against  temptations  to  pleasure,  but  does  it 
free  you  from  sullenness?  It  enables  you  to 
surmount  temptations  to  violent  exertions,  but 
does  it  raise  you  above  littleness?  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  rest.  Happy  he,  who  ar- 
ranges his  actions  with  a  special  regard  to  his 
own  heart,  inquiring  what  he  can  find  there 
opposite  to  the  law  of  God,  attacking  the  strong 
holds  of  Satan  within  himself,  and  directing 
all  his  fire  and  force  to  that  point.  "  They 
that  are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with 
the  affections  and  lusts.  I  beseech  you,  there- 
fore, brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye 
present  your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy, 
acceptable  unto  God,  wliich  is  your  reasonable 
service.  Sacrifice  and  offering  tiiou  dost  not 
desire,  mine  ears  hast  thou  opened.  Lo,  I 
come.  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  O  my  God, 
yea,  thy  law  is  within  my  heart,"  Gal.  v.  24; 
Rom.  xii.  1;  Ps.  xl.  T,&c. 

4.  Zeal  and  fervour  are  the  last  characters 
of  piety.  By  this  we  know  the  godly  man  from 
such  lukewarm  Christians  as  practise  the  duties 
of  religion  in  substance,  but  do  so  with  a 
coldness,  that  sinks  the  value  of  the  service. 
They  can  hear  the  afflictions  of  the  church 
narrated  without  emotion,  and  see  a  confused 
heap  of  stones,  sad  remains  of  houses  conse- 
crated to  our  God,  without  "  favouring  the 
dust  thereof,"  according  to  the  expression  of 
Scripture.  They  can  see  the  dimensions  of 
the  "  love"  of  God  measured,  the  "  breadth 
and  length,  and  depth  and  height,"  without 
feeling  the  least  warmth  from  the  ardour  and 
flame  of  so  vehement  a  love.  They  can  be 
present  at  the  offering  of  one  of  those  lively, 
tender,  fervent  prayers,  which  God  Almighty 
himself  condescends  to  hear  and  answer,  and 
for  the  sake  of  which  he  forgives  crimes  and 
averts  judgment,  without  entering  at  all  into 
the  spirit  of  these  subjects.  Such  men  as  these 
require  persuasion,  compulsion,  and  power,  to 
force  them. 

A  man,  who  truly  loves  God,  has  sentiments 
of  zeal  and  fervour.  Observe  David,  see  his 
joy  before  tlie  ark;  neither  the  royal  grandeur, 
nor  the  prophetical  gravity,  nor  the  gazing  of 
the  populace,  nor  the  reproaches  of  an  inter- 
ested wife,  could  cool  his  zeal.  Observe  Elijah, 
"  I  have  been,"  said  he,  "  very  jealous  for  the 
Lord  God  of  Hosts;  for  the  children  of  Israel 
have  forsaken  thy  covenant,  thrown  down 
tliine  altars,  and  slain  thy  propliets  with  the 
sword,  and  I,  even  I  only  am  left,  and  they 
seek  my  life  to  take  it  away,"  1  Kings  xix. 
10.  Behold  good  Eli,  the  frost  of  fourscore 
could  not  chill  the  ardour  that  inflamed  him. 
*'  What  is  there  done,  my  soa'"  said  he  to  the 


unwelcome  messenger,  who  came  to  inform 
him  of  the  defeat  of  his  army:  the  messenger 
replied,  "  Israel  is  fled  before  the  Philistines, 
and  there  hath  also  been  a  great  slaughter 
among  the  people,  and  thy  two  sons  Hojihni 
and  Pliinehas  are  dead:"  thus  far  he  supported 
himself;  but  the  man  went  on  to  say,  "  the  ark 
of  God  is  taken;"  instantly  on  hearing  that  the 
ark  was  gone,  he  "  fell  backward,"  he  could 
not  survive  the  loss  of  that  august  symbol  of 
the  divine  presence,  but  died  with  grief  Ob- 
serve Nehemiah,  to  whom  his  royal  master 
put  the  question,  "  Wliy  is  thy  countenance 
sad'"  said  he,  "  Why  should  not  my  counte- 
nance be  sad,  when  the  city,  the  place  of  my 
fathers'  sepulchres  lieth  waste,  and  the  gates 
thereof  are  consumed  with  fire?"  chap.  ii.  2, 
&.C.  Consider  St.  Paul,  "  We  glory  in  tribu- 
lations, because  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad 
in  our  hearts,  by  tlie  Holy  Ghost  whicii  is 
given  unto  us,"  Rom.  v.  3.  5. 

Do  you  imagine  you  truly  love  God,  while 
you  have  only  languid  emotions  towards  him, 
and  while  you  reserve  all  your  activity  and  fire 
for  the  world?  There  is  between  God  and  a 
believer  a  tender  and  affectionate  intercourse. 
Godliness  has  its  festivals  and  exuberances. 
"  Flesh  and  blood!"  Ye  that  "cannot  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God,"  1  Cor.  xv.  50,  ye  im- 
pure ideas  of  concupiscence,  depart,  be  gone 
far  away  from  our  imaginations!  There  is  a 
time,  in  which  the  mystical  spouse  faints,  and 
utters  such  exclamations  as  these,  "  I  sleep, 
but  my  heart  waketh.  Set  me  as  a  seal  upon 
thy  heart,  as  a  seal  upon  thine  arm,  for  love 
is  strong  as  death,  jealousj'  as  cruel  as  the 
grave,  the  coals  thereof  are  coals  of  fire,  wliioh 
hath  a  most  vehement  flame.  Many  waters 
cannot  quench  love,  neither  can  floods  drown 
it,"  Cant.  V.  2. 

These  are  some  characters  of  piety.  Let  us 
go  on  to  examine  the  advantages  of  it. 

II.  Our  apostle  says,  "  godliness  is  profitable 
unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that 
now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come."  There 
is  an  enormous  difference  between  these  two 
sorts  of  blessings.  The  blessings  of  tlie  life  to 
come  are  so  far  superior  to  the  blessings  of  the 
present  life,  that  when  we  can  assure  ourselves 
of  the  first,  we  ought  to  give  ourselves  very 
little  concern  about  the  last.  To  add  a  drop 
of  water  to  the  boundless  ocean;  to  add  a  tem- 
poral blessing  to  the  immense  felicities,  which 
happy  spirits  enjoy  in  the  other  life,  is  almost 
the  same  thing.  St.  Paul  tells  us,  that  tlie 
idea  of  life  to  come  so  absorbs  the  idea  of  the 
present  life,  that  to  consider  these  two  objects 
in  this  point  of  view,  his  eyes  could  hardly  get 
sight  of  tiie  one,  it  was  so  very  diminutive,  and 
his  mind  reckoned  the  whole  as  notiiing:  "  Our 
light  atfliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment, 
worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory,  while  we  look  not  at  the  tilings 
wliich  are  seen,  which  are  temporal,  but  at  the 
things  which  are  not  seen,  which  are  eternal," 
2  Cor.  iv.  17,  18. 

Few  imitate  this  apostle.  The  present,  be- 
cause it  is  present;  and  in  spite  of  its  rapidity, 
fi.xes  our  eyes,  becomes  a  wall  between  us  and 
eternity,  and  prevents  our  perceiving  it.  We 
should  make  many  more  converts  to  virtue, 
could  we  prove  that  it  would  render  mankind 


38 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


[Ser.  LVII. 


happy  here  below,  but  we  cannot  cliange  tlie 
order  of  things.  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles 
have  told  us,  that  "  in  the  world  we  shall  have 
tribulation,"  and  that  "  ail  tliat  will  live  godly 
in  Christ  Jesus,  shall  suffer  persecution,"  John 
xvi.  33;  2  Tim.  iii.  12.  However,  it  is  true, 
that  even  iiore  piety  procures  pleasures,  which 
usually  surpass  all  those  of  worldly  people:  at 
least,  which  are  sufficient  to  support  us  in  a 
road  leading  to  eternal  hapi)iness. 

1.  Consider  first,  liow  piety  influences  our 
health.    Our  bodies  decay,  1  allow,  by  number- 
less means.     Death  enters  them  by  the  air  we 
breathe,  and  by  the  elements  that  support  them, 
and  whatever  contributes  to  make  them  live, 
contributes  at  the  same  time  to  make  them  die. 
Let  us  allow,  my  brethren,  that  most  maladies 
take  their  rise  in  such  excesses  as  tlie  law  of 
God  condemns.     How  can  a  man,  devoured 
with  ambition,  avarice  and  vengeance,  a  man 
whose  passions  keep  him  in  perpetual  agitations, 
depriving  iiim  of  peace,  and  robbing  him  of 
sleep;  how  can  he,  who  passes  whole  nights 
and  days  in  gaming,  animated  with  the  desire 
of  gaining  his  neighbour's  money,  tortured  by 
turns  with  the  hope  of  a  fortune,  and  the  fear 
of  a  bankruptcy;  how   can  he,   who  drowns 
himself  in  wine,  or  overcharges  himself  with 
gluttony;  how  can  he,  who  abandons  iiimself 
without  a  curb  to  excessive  lewdness,  and  who 
makes  every  thing  serve  his  voluptuousness; 
how  is  it  possible  for  people  of  these  kinds  to 
expect  a  firm  and  la.sting  health.''     Godliness  is 
a  bar  to  all  these  disorders;  "  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  prolongetli  days:  it  is  a  fountain  of  life 
to  guard  us  from  the  snares  of  deatli,"  Prov. 
X.  ill;  and  xii.  27.      If  then  it  be  true  that 
healtli  is  an  invaluable  treasure,  if  it  be  that, 
which  ought  to  hold  the  first  rank  among  the 
blessings  of  life,  if  without  it  all  others  are  of  no 
value,  it  is  as  certain  that  without  love  to  the  law 
of  God  we  cannot  enjoy  much  pleasure  in  life. 
The  force  of  this  reflection  is  certainly  very 
little  felt  in  the  days  of  youth  and  vigour,  for 
then   we  usually  consider  these  as  eternal  ad- 
vantages, which  nothing  can  alter:  but  when 
old  age  comes,  when  by  continual  languors, 
and  by  exquisite  pains,  men  expiate  the  disor- 
ders of  an  irregular  life,  then  that  fear  of  God 
is  respected,  which  tcacliesiis  to  prevent  them. 
Ye  n)artyrs  of  concupiscence,  ye   victims  of 
voluptuousness,  you,  who  formerly  tasted  the 
pleasures  of  sin,  and  are  now  tlioroughly  feeling 
the  horrors  of  it,  and  who,  in  consequence  of 
your  excesses,  are  already  given  up  to  an  an- 
ticipated hell,  do  you  serve  us  for  demonstra- 
tion and  example.'     You  are  become  knowing 
by  experience,  now  teach  our  youth  how  bene- 
ficial it  is  to  lead  a  regular  life  in  their  first 
years,  and  as  your  intemperance  has  oflended 
the  church,  let  the  pains  you  endure  serve  to 
restrain  such  as  arc  weak  enough  to  imitate 
your  bad  exami)los.     Those  trembling  hands, 
that  shaking  head,  those  disjointed  knees,  tiiat 
extinguished  resolution,  that   feeble  memory, 
that  worn  out  brain,  that  body  all  infection  and 
putrefaction,   these  are   the  dreadful   rewards 
which  the  devil  bestows  on  those  on  whom  he 
is  preparing  himself  shortly  to  exercise  all  his 
fury  and  rage.     On  this  arti(-le,  then,  instead 
of  saying  with  the  profane,  "  what  profit  is  it 
to  keep  the  ordinances  of  God,  and  tu  walk 


mournfully  before  the  Lord  of  hosts.'"  Mai. 
ii.  14.  We  ought  to  say  with  St.  Paul,  "  What 
fruit  liad  ye  then  in  those  things  whereof  ye 
are  now  ashamed?  For  the  end  of  those  tilings 
is  death,"  Rom.  vi.  21. 

2.   (,'onsider  next  bow  piety  influences  our 
réputation.     I  am  aware,  that  worldly  men  by 
decrying  piety,  endeavour  to  avenge  themselves 
for  the  want  of  courage  to  practise  it.     I  am 
aware,  too,  that  practise  wickedness  as  much, 
as  often,  and  as  far  as  ever  we  can,  we  shall 
always  find  ourselves  in  a  circle  of  companions 
like  ourselves.      But  after  all,  it  is  however 
indisputable,  that  good  people  usually  ac(iuire 
tlie  respect  of  such  as  have  not  tlie  laudable 
ambition  of  imitating  them.     I  appeal  only  to 
your  own   conscience.     Is  it   not   true,   that, 
even  while  you  are  gratifying  your  own  lias- 
sions, you  cannot  help  admiring  such  as  subdue 
theirs?     Is  it  not  true,  that,  excejit  on  some 
occasions,  in  which  you  want,  and  therefore 
seek,    accomplices   in  sin,   you   would  rather 
choose  to  form  connexions,  to  make  bargains, 
and  to  deal  with  such  as  obey  the  laws  of  God, 
than  with  those  who  violate  them?  And  amidst 
all  the  hatred  and  envy,  which  your  irregula- 
rities excite  against  good  people,  is  it  not  true, 
that  your  heart  feels  more  veneration  for  wise, 
upright,  and  pious  people,  than  fur  others,  who 
have  opposite  qualities?   As  these  are  your  dis- 
positions towards  others,  know  of  a  truth,  they 
are  also  dispositions  of  others  towards  you.  Here 
it  is,  that  most  men  are  objects  of  great  pity. 
Tlie  irregularities,  which  seem  to  conduct  us  to 
tlie  end  we  propose,  are  often  the  very  causes 
of  our  disappointment.   IMay  I  not  address  one 
of  you   thus?      You   trample  upon   all   laws 
human  and  divine;  you  build   up  a   fortunate 
house  with   the  substance  of  widows,  and  or- 
phans, and  oppres.sed  peojile,  and  you  cement 
it  with  their  blood;  you  sell  your  votes;  you 
defraud  the  state;   you  deceive  your  friends; 
you  betray  your  corres|ioii(lents,  and  after  you 
have  enriched  yourself  by  such  ways,  you  set 
forth  in  a  most  pompous  manner  your  riches, 
your  elegant  furniture,  your  magnificent  pa- 
laces, your  superb  ecjuipages,  and  you  think 
the  public  take  you  fora  person  of  great  consi- 
deration, and  that  every  one  is  erecting  in  his 
heart  an  altar  to  your  fortune.    No  such  thing. 
You  deceive  yourself     Every  one  says  in  pri- 
vate, and  some  blunt  people  say  to  your  face, 
you  are  a  knave,  you  are  a  public  blood-sucker, 
and  all  your  magiiificonco  displaj-s  nothing  but 
your  crimes,     ftlay  I  not  say  to  another.  You 
atiect  to  mount  above  your  station  by  arrogant 
language,  and  migiily  assuiiiption.s.     You  deck 
yourself  with  titles,  and  adorn  yourself  with 
names  unknown  to  your  ancestors.     You  put 
on  a  supcrcilous  deportment,  that   ill  assorts 
with  the  dust  which  covered  you  the  other  day, 
and  you  think  by  these  means  to  efl'ace  the  re- 
iiiembrauco  of  your  origin.     No  such  thing. 
You  deceive  yourself.     Every  one  takes  plea- 
sure in  showing  you  some  of  your  former  rags 
to  mortify  your  pride,  and  they  say  to  one  an- 
other, he  is  a  mean  genius,  he  is  a  fool,  he  re- 
sembles distracted  men,  who  having  persuaded 
themselves  that  they  are  jirinces,  kings,  empe- 
rors, call  their  cottage  a  palace,  their  stick  a 
sceptre,  and  their  domestics  courtiers.     May  I 
nut  speak  thus  tu  a  third,  You  arc  intoxicated 


Ser.  Lvn.] 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


39 


with  your  own  splendour,  and  fascinated  with 
your  own  charms,  you  aspire  at  notliing  less 
than  to  make  all  mankind  your  worshippers, 
offerinn^  incense  to  the  idol  you  yourself  adore; 
with  this  view  you  break  tlirough  the  bounds 
of  law,  and  the  decency  of  your  sex;  your 
dress  is  vain  and  immodest,  your  conversation 
is  loose,  your  deportment  is  indecent,  and  you 
think  the  world  take  you  for  a  sort  of  rroddess. 
No  such  tliinjr.  You  deceive  yourself.  Peo- 
ple say  you  have  put  off  Cliristian  modesty, 
and  laid  aside  eveu  worldly  decency,  and  as 
they  jud^o  of  your  private  life  by  your  public 
de]>ortment,  how  can  they  think  otherwise? 
Fathers  forbid  their  sons  to  keep  your  compa- 
ny, and  mothers  exhort  their  daughters  to 
avoid  your  bad  example. 

3.  Observe  how  godliness  influences  out  for- 
tune, by  procuring  us  the  confidence  of  other 
men,  and  above  all  by  acquiring  the  blessing 
of  God  on  our  designs  and  undertakings. — 
You  are  sometirpes  astonished  at  the  alarming 
changes  that  happen  in  society,  you  are  sur- 
prised to  see  some  families  decay,  and  others 
fall  into  absolute  ruin.  You  cannot  compre- 
hend why  some  people,  who  held  the  other 
day  the  highest  places  in  society,  are  now  fal- 
len from  that  pinnacle  of  grandeur,  and  involv- 
ed in  the  deepest  distress.  Why  this  atonish- 
ment'  There  is  a  Providence,  and  though 
God  often  hides  himself,  though  the  ways  of 
his  providence  are  usually  impenetrable,  though 
it  would  be  an  unjust  way  of  reasoning  to  say, 
such  a  person  is  wealthy,  therefore  he  is  holy, 
such  a  one  is  indigent,  therefore  he  is  wicked; 
yet  the  Lord  sometimes  comes  out  of  that  dark- 
ness in  which  he  usually  conceals  himself,  and 
raises  a  saint  out  of  obscurity  into  a  state  of 
wealtii  and  honour. 

4.  Consider  what  an  influence  godliness  has 
in  our  happiness  by  calming  our  passions,  and 
by  setting  bounds  to  our  desires.  Our  faculties 
are  finite:  but  our  desires  are  boundless.  PVom 
this  disproportion  between  our  desires  and  our 
faculties  a  thousand  conflicts  arise,  which  dis- 
tress and  destroy  the  soul.  Observe  the  la- 
bour of  an  ambitious  man,  he  is  obliged  to 
sacrifice  to  his  prince  his  ease,  his  liberty,  and 
his  life;  he  must  appear  to  applaud  what  he 
inwardly  condemns;  and  he  nuist  adjust  all 
his  opinions  and  sentiments  by  the  ideas  of  his 
master.  See  what  toils  worldly  honour  im- 
poses on  its  votaries;  a  man  of  honour  must 
revenge  an  aflront  after  he  has  pardoned  it,  and 
to  that  he  must  expose  his  establishment  and 
his  fortune,  he  must  run  the  risk  of  being 
obliged  either  to  quit  his  country,  or  to  suffer 
such  punishment  as  the  law  inflicts  on  tliose, 
who  take  tiiat  sword  into  their  own  hands, 
which  God  has  put  into  the  hand  of  the  magis- 
trate, he  must  stab  the  person  he  loves,  the 
person  who  loves  him,  and  who  oftended  him 
juore  through  inadvertence  than  animosity;  he 
must  stille  all  the  suggestions  which  conscience 
urges  against  a  man  who  ventures  his  salvation 
on  the  precarious  success  of  a  duel,  and  who 
by  so  doing  braves  all  the  horrors  of  hell. 
Above  all,  what  is  the  condition  of  a  heart, 
with  what  cruel  alternatives  is  it  racked  and 
torn,  when  it  is  occupied  by  two  passions, 
which  oppose  and  counteract  each  other.  Take 
ambition  and  avarice  for  an  example;  for,  my 


brethren,  the  heart  of  a  man  is  sometimes  the  seat 
of  two  opposite  tyrants,  each  of  whom  has  views 
and  interests  different  from  the  other.  Avarice 
says  keep,  ambition  says  give,  avarice  says 
hold  fast,  ambition  says  give  up.  Avarice 
says  retire,  ambition  says  go  abroad.  Ambi- 
tion combats  avarice,  avarice  combats  ambi- 
tion, each  by  tunis  distresses  tlie  heart,  and  if  it 
groans  under  tyranny,  wlietlier  avarice  or  am- 
bition 1)0  the  tyrant  is  indifferent.  The  plea- 
sure of  seeing  one  passion  reign  is  always  poi- 
soned by  the  pain  of  seeing  the  other  subdued. 
They  resemble  that  woman,  whose  twin  "  chil- 
dren struggled  together  within  her,"  and  who 
said  during  tlie  painful  sensations.  If  il  must  6c 
so,  jy/iy  was  /  a  mother? 

Piety  prevents  these  fatal  effects,  it  makes  ufl 
content  with  the  condition  in  which  Providence 
has  placed  us:  it  does  more,  it  teaches  us  to  be 
happy  in  any  condition,  how  mean  soever  it 
may  bo.  "  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever  state 
I  am,  therewith  to  be  content:  I  know  both 
how  to  be  abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound. 
Every  where  and  in  all  things  I  am  instructed,  ■ 
both  to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound 
and  to  suffer  need,"  Phil.  iv.  11,  12. 

5.  Consider  the  peace  which  piety  diffuses 
in  the  conscience.  The  prosperity  of  those 
who  desire  to  free  themselves  from  conscience, 
is  such  as  to  make  them  miserable  in  the  midst 
of  their  greatest  success.  What  pleasure  can 
a  man  enjoy,  who  cannot  bear  to  be  one  mo- 
ment alone;  a  man,  who  needs  perpetual  dis- 
sipation to  hide  from  himself  his  real  condition; 
a  man,  who  cannot  reflect  on  the  past  without 
remorse,  think  on  the  present  without  confu- 
sion, or  the  future  without  despair;  a  man, 
who  carries  within  himself  that  obstinate  re- 
prover, on  whom  he  cannot  impose  silence, 
a  man,  who  already  feels  tlie  "  worm  that  dieth 
not"  gnawing  him;  a  man,  who  sees  in  the 
midst  of  his  most  jovial  festivals  the  writing 
"  of  a  man's  hand,"  which  he  cannot  read,  but 
which  his  conscience  most  faithfully  and  terri- 
bly interprets;  I  ask  what  pleasure  can  such  a 
man  enjoy? 

Godliness  not  only  frees  us  from  these  tor- 
ments, but  it  communicates  joy  into  every  part 
of  the  pious  man's  life.  If  the  believer  be  in 
prosperity,  he  considers  it  as  an  effect  of  the 
goodness  of  God,  the  governor  of  this  universe, 
and  as  a  pledge  of  blessings  reserved  for  him  in 
another  world.  If  he  be  in  adversity,  indeed 
he  considers  it  as  a  chastisement  coming  from 
the  hand  of  a  wise  and  tender  parent:  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  every  other  condition. 

6.  In  fine,  consider  how  piety  influences  the 
happiness  of  life,  by  the  assurance  it  gives  us  of 
a  safe,  if  not  a  comfortable  death.  There  is 
not  a  single  moment  in  life,  in  which  it  is  not 
possible  we  should  die;  consequently  there  is 
not  one  instant,  that  may  not  be  unhappy,  if 
we  be  not  in  a  condition  to  die  well.  While 
we  are  destitute  of  this  assurance,  we  live  in 
perpetual  trouble  and  agitation;  we  see  the 
sick,  we  meet  funeral  processions,  we  attend 
the  dying,  and  all  these  different  objects  become 
motives  of  horror  and  pain.  It  is  only  when 
we  are  prepared  to  die  well,  that  we  bid  de- 
fiance to  winds  and  waves,  fires  and  ship- 
wrecks, and  that,  by  opposing  to  all  these 
perilous  casualties  the  hope  of  a  happy  death. 


40 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


[Ser.  Lvn. 


we  every  where  expenence  the  joy  with  which 
it  inspires  such  as  wait  for  it 

Collect  all  these  articles,  and  unite  all  these 
advantages  in  one.  I  ask  now,  is  it  an  impro- 
bable proposition,  tliat  virtue  has  a  reward  in 
itself,  sufficient  to  indemnify  us  ibr  all  we  suf- 
fer on  account  of  it,  so  that  though  there  were 
nothing  to  expect  from  tliis  life,  yet  it  would 
be  a  problem,  whether  it  would  not  be  better, 
all  things  considered,  to  practise  godliness  than 
to  live  in  sin. 

But  this  is  not  the  consequence  we  mean  to 
draw  from  our  principles.  We  do  not  intend 
to  make  this  use  of  our  observations.  We  will 
not  dispute  with  the  sinner  whether  he  finds 
pleasure  in  the  practice  of  sin,  but  as  he  as- 
sures us,  that  it  gives  him  more  pleasure  to 
gratify  his  passions  than  to  subdue  them,  we 
will  neither  deny  the  fact,  nor  find  fault  witii 
his  taste,  but  allow  that  he  must  know  better 
than  any  body  what  gives  himself  most  plea- 
sure. We  only  derive  this  consequence  from 
all  we  have  been  hearing,  that  the  advantages 
which  accompany  godliness,  are  sufficient  to 
support  us  in  a  course  of  action,  that  leads  to 
eternal  felicity. 

This  eternal  felicity  the  apostle  had  chiefly 
in  view,  and  on  this  we  would  fix  your  atten- 
tion in  the  close  of  this  discourse.  "  Godliness 
hath  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,"  is  a  pro- 
position, we  think,  plain  and  clear:  but  how- 
ever, it  is  disputable  you  say,  subject  to  many 
exceptions,  and  liable  to  a  great  number  of 
difficulties:  but  "godliness  hath  promise  of  the 
life  that  is  to  come,"  is  a  proposition  which 
cannot  be  disputed,  it  is  free  from  all  difficulty, 
and  can  admit  of  no  exception. 

Having  taken  up  nearly  all  the  time  allotted 
to  this  exercise,  I  will  finish  with  one  reflection. 
"  Promise  of  the  life  to  come,"  annexed  to  god- 
liness, is  not  a  mere  promise,  it  puts  even  in 
this  life  the  pious  man  in  possession  of  one  part 
of  the  benefits,  the  perfect  possession  of  wliich 
he  lives  in  hope  of  enjoying.  Follow  him 
in  four  periods — First  in  society — Next  in  the 
closet — Then  in  a  participation  of  holy  ordi- 
nances— And  lastly,  at  the  approach  of  death: 
you  will  find  him  participating  the  eternal  feli- 
city, which  is  the  object  of  iiis  hope. 

In  societij.  What  is  the  life  of  a  man,  who 
never  goes  into  the  company  of  his  fellow  crea- 
tures without  doing  them  good;  of  a  man  who 
after  the  example  of  .Jesus  Christ  "  goes  about 
doing  good;"  a  man,  who  every  where  sliows 
the  light  of  a  good  example,  who  endeavours 
to  win  all  hearts  to  God,  who  never  ceases  to 
publish  his  perfections,  and  to  celebrate  his 
praise,  what,  I  ask,  is  the  life  of  such  a  man.'  It 
is  an  angelical  life,  it  is  a  heavenly  life,  it  is  an 
anticipation  of  that  life  which  happy  spirits 
live  in  heaven,  it  is  a  foretaste  and  prelibation 
of  tliose  pleasures  which  are  at  the  "  right  hand 
of  God,"  and  of  that  "  fulness  of  joy,"  which 
is  found  in  contemplating  his  majesty. 

Follow  the  pious  man  into  tiie  silent  closet 


the  human  heart.     There,  ye  earthly  thoughts, 
ye  worldly  cares,  ye  troublesome  birds  of  prey, 
that  so  often  perplex  us  in  life,  there  you  have 
no  access!     There,  revolving  in  his  mind  the 
divers  objects  presented  to  him  in  religion,  he 
feels  the  various  emotions  that  are  proper  to 
each.     Sometimes   the   rich   gifts  of  God   in 
nature,  and  tlie  insignificance  of  man  the  re- 
ceiver, are  objects  of  his  contemplation,  and 
then  he  exclaims,  "O  Lord,  my  Lord,  how 
excellent  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth!  When  I 
consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers, 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordain- 
ed," Ps.  viii.  1.  3.  I  cannot  help  crying,  "  What 
is  man  tliat  tliou  art  mindful  of  him!  and  the 
son  of  man   that  thou  visitest  him!"  ver.  4. 
Sometimes  the  brightness  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions siiining  in  Jesus  Christ  fixes  his  attention, 
and  then  he  exclaims,  "  Tiiou  art  fairer  than 
the  children  of  men,  grace  is  poured  into  thy 
lips,  therefore  God  hath  blessed  thee  for  ever!" 
Ps.  xlv.  2.     Sometimes  his  mind  contemplates 
that  train  of  favours,  with  which  God  has  en 
riched  every  believer  in  his  church,  and  then 
he  cries,  "  Many,  O  Lord  my  God,  are  thy  won 
derful  works  which  thou  hast  done,  and  thy 
thoughts  which  are  to  us-ward:  they  cannot  be 
reckoned  up  in  order  before  thee!     Would  1 
declare  and  speak  of  them,  they  are  more  than 
can  be  numbered!"  Ps.  xl.  6.     Sometimes  it  is 
the  sacrifice  of  the  cross,  and  then  he  says, 
"  Without  controversy  great  is  the  mystery  of 
godliness;    God  was   manifest  in   the  flesh!" 
1  Tim.  iii.   16.     Sometimes  it  is  the  joy  of 
possessing  God,  and  then  his  language  is,  "  My 
soul  is  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and  fatness!" 
Ps.  Ixiii.  5.     Sometimes  it  is  the  desire  of  en- 
joying God  in  a  greater  measure,  and  in  a 
richer  abundance,  and  then  he  says  with  Asaph, 
"  My  supreme  good  is  to  draw  near  to  God. 
When  shall  I  come,  O  when  shall  I  come  and 
appear  before  God!"  Ps.  Ixxiii.  28,  and  xlii.  2. 

Follow  this  man  in  the  participation  of  holy 
ordinances.  Represent  to  yourselves  a  man, 
who  after  preparing  himself  some  days,  or 
some  weeks  for  the  holy  communion,  bringing 
tiiither  a  heart  proportioned  to  the  labour, 
which  he  has  taken  to  dispose  it  proi)erly:  ima- 
gine such  a  man  silting  at  this  table  along  with 
the  ambitious,  the  impure,  the  revengeful,  the 
vain,  all  the  members  of  this  community;  sup- 
pose this  man  saying  to  himself,  they  are  not 
only  men  who  see  and  consider  me,  they  are 
angels,  wlio  encamp  around  such  as  love  God; 
it  is  Jesus  Christ,  who  sits  amidst  his  disciples 
assembled  in  his  name;  it  is  God  himself  who 
sees  all,  and  examines  all  the  dispositions  I 
bring  to  his  table.  It  is  not  only  an  invitation 
to  this  table  given  by  ministers,  it  is  "  wisdom 
who  hath  furnished  her  table,  mingled  her 
wine,"  Prov.  ix.  1,  2,  and  wiio  cries,  "  Ho, 
every  one  that  tiiirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters," 
Isaiah  Iv.  It  is  my  Saviour,  who  says  to  me, 
"  Witii  desire  1  have  desired  to  eat  with  you," 
Luke  xxii.  15.     It  is  not  only  material  bread 


There  he  recollects,  concentres  himself,  and    that  I  am  receiving,  it  is  a  symbol  of  the  body 
losRS   himself  in    God.      There,  in   tlie   rich  |  and  blood  of  Christ,  it  is  his  flesh  and  blood 


source  of  religion,  he  quenches  tlie  thirst  of 
knowing,  elevating,  perpetuating,  and  extend- 
ing himsiilf,  wliicii  burns  within  him,  and  there 
lie  feels  how  Cîod,  the  author  of  his  nature, 
proportions  hinisclf  to  tiic  boundless  capacity  of 


mdcr  tlie  elements  of  bread  and  wine.  It  will 
bo  not  only  a  little  tranquillity  of  conscience, 
which  I  shall  receive  at  this  table,  if  I  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  mystery  set  before  me: 
but  I  shall  have  consolations  on  my  death-bed. 


Ser.  Lvn.] 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  PIETY. 


41 


triumphs  after  death,  and  oceans  of  felicity  and 
glory  for  ever.  God  has  not  preserved  me  till 
now  merely  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  sit- 
ting here:  but  to  open  to  mo  the  treasures  of 
his  patience  and  long-sutFcring;  to  enable  me 
to  repent  of  my  former  nogligonco  of  breaking 
the  sabbath,  profaning  tlio  communion,  com- 
mitting iniquity,  forgetting  iny  promises,  and 
offending  my  Creator. 

I  ask,  my  brethren,  what  is  the  man  who  ap- 
proaches the  Lord's  table  with  such  dispositions? 
Is  he  a  common  man?  Verily  witii  eyes  of 
flesh,  I  see  nothing  to  distinguish  him  from  the 
crowd.  I  see  this  man  confounded  with  all 
others,  whom  a  lax  discipline  sutlers  to  partake 
of  this  ordinance,  and  to  receive  with  unclean 
hands  and  a  profane  mouth,  the  most  hol3' 
symbol  of  our  religion;  at  most,  1  see  only  an 
agitation  of  his  senses,  a  spark  shining  in  his 
eye,  a  look  cast  towards  heaven,  emotions 
which  the  veil  of  humility  that  covers  him 
cannot  entirely  conceal:  but  with  the  eyes  of 
my  mind  I  behold  a  man  of  a  superior  order, 
a  man  in  paradise,  a  man  nourished  with  plea- 
sure at  the  right  hand  of  God,  a  man  at  whose 
conversion  the  angels  of  God  rejoice,  a  man 
fastened  to  the  triumphal  car  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  who  makes  the  glory  of  the  triumph,  a 
man  who  has  the  happy  art  of  making  heaven 
descend  into  his  soul;  I  behold  amidst  the  mi- 
series and  vanities  of  the  world,  a  man  already 
"justified,"  already  "raised,"  already  "glo- 
rified," already  "sitting  in  heavenly  places 
with  Jesus  Christ,"  Rom.  viii.  30;  Eph.  ii.  6. 
I  see  a  man  ascending  to  heaven  along  with 
Jesus  Christ,  amids  the  shouting  of  the  hea- 
venly choir,  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  yc  gates, 
and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and 
let  the  King  of  glory  in,"  Ps.  xxiv.  7.  I  see  a 
man  "  with  uncovered  face  beholding  the  glory 
of  the  Lord,"  and  changing  "from  glory  to 
glory  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  2  Cor.  iii.  18. 
But  it  is  particularly  in  a  iltjing  bed  that  tlie 
pious  man  enjoys  foretastes  of  the  life  to  come. 
A  worldling  is  confounded  at  the  approach  of 
that  dismal  night,  which  hides  futurity  from 
him;  or  rather,  despair  seizes  his  soul  at  the 
rising  of  that  dreadful  light,  which  discovers 
to  him  a  dispensation  of  punishment,  in  spite 
of  his  obstinate  denial  of  it.  Then  he  sees 
fire,  flames,  devils,  "a  lake  of  fire,  the  smoke 
of  which  ascendeth  up  for  ever  and  ever." 
Then  he  shrinks  back  from  the  bitter  cup,  the 


dregs  of  which  he  must  drink;  he  tries,  though 
in  vain,  to  put  off'  the  end  by  his  too  late 
I)rayer,  and  lie  cries  at  its  approach  "  Moun- 
tains fall  on  rnc,  hills  cover  me!"  As  for  tlie 
l)eliever,  he  sees  and  desires  nothing  but  that 
dispensation  of  ha[)j)iness,  which  he  has  already 
embraced  by  faith,  possessed  by  hope,  and 
tasted  i)y  the  comforts  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his 
soul;  and  hence  comes  that  active  fervour, 
which  makes  his  countenance  luminous  like 
that  of  departing  Stc|)lien.  1  cannot  better 
express  such  sentiments  tlian  in  the  words  of 
the  primitive  saints,  who  so  happily  experi- 
enced them. 

'"  1  have  waited  for  thy  salvation,  O  Lord!  I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  tliough 
after  my  skin  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in 
my  flesh  shall  I  see  God;  whom  I  shall  see  for 
myself,  and  mine  eyes  shall  behold  and  not  an- 
other. Though  thou  slayest  me,  yet  will  I 
trust  in  thee,  O  God!  Though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  tlie  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear 
no  evil,  for  tliou  art  with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy 
staff  they  comfort  me.  I  know  whom  I  have 
believed,  and  I  am  persuaded,  that  he  is  able 
to  keep  that  which  1  have  committed  unto  liiin 
against  that  day.  Neither  count  I  my  life  dear 
so  that  I  might  finisli  my  course  with  joy,  and  the 
ministry  wliicli  I  have  received  of  the  Lord. 
I  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  which  is 
far  bettor.  Lord  Jesus  receive  my  spiiit.  I 
have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my 
course,  I  have  kept  tlie  faith,  henceforth  there 
is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness.  O 
death,  where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is 
thy  victory?  In  these  things  we  are  more  than 
conquerors,  through  him  that  loved  us.  As 
the  halt  pantcth  after  the  water-brooks,  so 
panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God!  my  soul 
thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God!  When 
shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God?  IIow 
amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord  of  hosts! 
My  soul  longeth,  yea,  even  faintelh  for  tho 
courts  of  the  Lord;  my  heart  and  my  flesh  cry 
out  for  the  living  God.  Blessed  are  they  that 
dwell  in  thy  house,  they  will  be  still  praising 
thee!  Thine  altars,  even  thine  altars,  O  Lord 
of  hosts,  my  King  and  my  God." 

May  you  all,  my  brethren,  may  every  one  of 
you,  know  these  truths  by  experience.  God 
grant  you  the  grace.  To  him  be  honour  and 
glory  for  ever. 


Vol.  ii— 6 


42 


THE  REPENTANCE  OF 


ISbr.  Lvm. 


SERMON  LVIII. 


THE    REPENTANCE    OF    THE 
CHASTE   WOMAN. 


UN- 


Luke  vii.  36—50. 

^nd  one  of  the  Pharisees  desired  him  Ihat  he  toould 

eat  with  him.     ^Ind  he  went  into  the  l'harisee''s 

lioiuse,  and  sat  dntcn  to  mrat.     And  behold,  a 

woman  in  the  fit;/,  which  was  a  sinner,  when 

she  knew  that. Jesus  sal  at  meat  in  the  P/iamee's 

house,  brought  an  uUtha.sler  box  of  ointment, 

and  stood  at  his  fret  bthind  him  wcijiing,  and 

began  to  wash  hisftcl  with  tears,  and  did  wipe 

them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his 

feet,   and   anointed   them   ivilh   the    ointment. 

J^ow  xchcn  the  Pharisee  which  had  bidden  him, 

saw  it,  he   spake  tvilhin  himself,  saying,  this 

man,  if  he  ivcre  a  prophet,  would  have  known 

who,  and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is  that 

toucheth  him:  for  she  is  a  sinner.     And  Jesus 

answering,  said  unto  him,  iSiiiioH,  /  have  sonw- 

irhat  to  sail  iinto  thee.     And  he  saith,  Ma-iter, 

say  on.      There  tints  a  certain  creditor,  %vhich 

had  two  debtors:   the  one  owed  five  hundred 

pence,  and  the  other  fifty.     And  ichen  they  had 

nothing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both. 

Tell  me  therefore,  ichich  of  them  vyill  love  him 

inost?    iiimon  answered  and  said,  J  suppose  that 

he  to  whom  he  forgave  most.    And  he  said  unto 

him,  thou  hast  righlly  judged.     And  ht  turned 

to  the  woman,  and  said  imlo  tiimon,  Siest  thov. 

this  woman?     I  entered  into  thine  hnxise,  thou 

gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet:  but  site  hath 

washed  my  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  with 

the  hairs  of  her  head.     Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss; 

but  this  v:oman,  since  the  tinte  I  caine  in,  hath 

not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet.     ..Inline  head  with  oil 

thou  didst   nut  amnnl:    but  this  woman  hath 

anointed  my  feet  ivith  ointment.       If  heref ore 

I  say  unto  thee,  her  sins  ichich  are  many,  are 

forgiven;  for  .the  lovclh  «luc/i;    but  to  whom 

little  is  forgiven,  the  same  lovelh  little.     ^'Ind 

lie  said  unto  her,  thy  sins  are  forgiven.     And 

they  that  sal  at  meal  with  him,  began  lo  say 

within  themselves,  who  is  this  thai  furgivelh  sins 

also?     And  he  said  to  the  xooman,  Thy  faith 

hath  saved  thee;  go  in  peace. 

"  Let  ni(!  fail  into  ttic  hands  of  the  Lord, 

for  his  mercies  are  great:  but  let  me  not  fall 

into  the  hand   of  man,"  'i   Sam.    xx'w.    14. 

This  was  the  rccpicst  tliat  David  made  in  the 

most  unhappy  moment  of  his  life.      A  i>ropliet 

sent  by  an  aveiiçiu",'  (!f)d  came  to  biiiig  lum  a 

choice  of  afflictions,  "  I  olTer  thee  three  thiiiirs, 

choose   one  of  them,  that  1    may  do    it    unto 

thee. — Shall  three  years  of  famine  come  unto 

thee  in  thy  land?  or  will  lliou  lice  three  months 

before  thine  enemies,  wiiile  they  |)ursue  thee? 

or  that  lliere  In;  lliree  days  jicslilenco  in  thy 

land?    Now  advise,  and  see  what  answer  1  shall 

return  to  him  tliat  sent  me,"  ver.  12,  &c. 

What  a  proposal  was  this  to  a  man  accus- 
tomed to  consider  Heaven  as  a  source  of  bene- 
dictions and  favours!  Henceforth  he  was  to 
consider  it  only  as  a  cavern  of  thpiidcr  and 
lightninir,  tlusiiiriir  and  rolling,  and  ready  to 
strike  him  dead!  which  of  these  punishments 
would  ho  choose?  ^Vhich  of  them  could  ho 
choose  without  reproaching  himself  in  future 


that  he  had  chosen  the  worst'  Which  would 
you  have  chosen  had  you  been  in  his  place,  my 
brethren?  Would  you  have  determined  for  war? 
Could  you  have  borne  the  bare  idea  of  it'  Could 
you  have  endured  to  see  the  once  victorious 
armies  of  Israel  led  in  triumpli  by  an  enemy, 
the  ark  of  the  Lord  a  captive,  a  cruel  and  bar- 
barous soldiery  reducing  a  kingdom  to  ashes, 
rasing  fortresses,  ravaging  a  harvest,  and  de- 
stroying in  a  moment  the  crop  of  a  whole  year? 
Would  you  have  determined  for  famine?  Would 
you  have  chosen  to  have  the  heaven  become  as 
iron,  and  tlie  earth  brass,  the  seed  dying  in  the 
earth,  or  the  corn  burning  before  it  was  ripe? 
"  The  locust  eating  what  the  ]ialmer  worm  had 
left,  and  the  canker  worm  eating  what  the  lo- 
cust had  left,"  Joel  i.  1;  men  snatching  bread 
from  one  another's  hands,  struggling  between 
life  and  death,  and  starving  till  Ibod  would  af- 
ford no  nourishment?  Would  you  have  chosen 
mortality?  Could  you  have  reconciled  your- 
selves to  the  terrible  times  in  which  conUigion 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind  carries  its  deadly  j>oi- 
son  with  the  rai)idity  of  lightning  from  city  to 
city,  from  house  to  houses;  a  time  in  which  social 
living  is  at  an  end,  when  each  is  wholly  ein- 
l)loyed  in  guarding  himself  from  danger,  and 
lias  no  op|)ortunity  to  take  care  of  others^  svhen 
the  father  tlees  Irom  tlie  siglit  of  tlie  son,  tlie 
son  from  lliatoftiie  fatlier,  the  wife  avoids  the 
husband,  the  husband  the  wifcj  when  each 
dreads  the  siglit  of  the  person  he  most  esteem», 
and  receives,  and  cominunicates  poisonous  and 
deadly  infection?  These  are  the  dreadful  pu- 
nisliments  out  of  wliich  God  required  guilty 
Uavid  to  choose  one.  These  he  was  to  weigh 
in  a  balance,  while  he  agitated  the  mournful 
question,  which  of  the  three  shall  1  choose  for 
my  lot'  However,  he  determines,  "  j^ct  me  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  ar« 
great:  but  let  me  not  fall  into  the  hand  of  man." 
He  thought,  that  immediato  strokes  from  the 
hand  of  a  God,  mertiful  tliougli  dis])leased, 
would  be  most  tolerable.  He  could  conceive 
nothing  more  terrible  than  to  see  between  God 
and  himself,  men  who  would  intercept  his  looks, 
and  would  prevent  his  access  to  the  throne  of 
grace. 

INIy  brethren,  the  wish  of  David  under  his 
consternation  may  direct  ours  in  regard  to  all 
the  spots  that  have  deliled  our  lives.  True,  the 
eyes  of  God  are  inlinitely  more  pure  than  those 
of  men.  He  indeed  tliscovers  frailties  in  our 
lives  which  iiave  esca(»ed  our  notice,  and  "if 
our  heart  condemns  us,  God  is  greater  than  our 
heart."  It  is  true,  lie  hath  punisiiuieiits  to  in- 
flict on  us  infinitely  more  dteadful  than  any 
mankind  can  invent,  and  if  men  can  "kill  the 
body,  God  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body 
in  hell."  However,  tliis  .\lmighty  God,  this 
terrible,  tiiis  avenging  God,  is  a  merciful  God, 
"great  arc  his  teiidiir  mercies;"  but  men,  men 
arc  cruel;  yea,  the  very  men  wlm  allow  liicm- 
selves  to  live  in  the  most  shameful  licentious- 
ness, men  who  have  the  most  need  of  the  pa- 
tience of  others,  men  who  themselves  deserve 
the  most  rigorous  i)unishnieuls,  these  very  men 
are  usually  void  ol'  all  pity  liir  their  fellows, 
liehold  a  striking  example.  Tlie  unchaste  wo- 
man in  the  te.vt  e.\[)ericn(ed  both,  and  by  turns 
made  trial  of  the  judguienl  of  God,  and  the 
judgment  of  men.     But  she  met  with  a  vexy 


Ser.  LVIII.] 


THE  UNCHASTE  WOMAN. 


43 


different  treatment.  In  Jesus  C'lirist  she  found 
a  very  severe  legislator,  who  left  lier  îi while  Id 
shed  tears,  and  very  hitter  tears;  a  legislator, 
who  left  h(!r  awhile  to  her  own  grief,  and  sat 
and  saw  her  hair  dishevelled,  and  her  features 
distorted;  hut  who  soon  took  care  to  dry  up  her 
t/;ars,  and  to  address  this  conifortahle  language 
toiler,  "  tio  in  peace."  (Ju  the  contrary,  in 
the  hands  of  men  she  found  nothing  hut  hnr- 
harity  and  cruelty.  She  heard  a  sii|)ercihous 
Pharisee  endeavour  to  arm  against  her  the  ile- 
deenier  of  mankind,  try  U)  persuade  him  to 
denounce  on  lier  sentence  of  death,  even  while 
she  was  repenting  of  lier  sin,  and  to  do  his  ut- 
most to  caiis(!  condemnation  to  tlow  from  the 
very  tountain  of  grace  and  mer('y. 

It  is  this  inslrucXive,  thiseomfortalilc  history, 
that  we  set  liefore  you  t(j-<lay,  and  which  pre- 
sents three  very  dilVerent  ohjccts  to  our  medi- 
tation, the  Conduct  of  the  incontinent  woman, 
that  of  tlie  I'harisee,  and  tiiat  of  Jesus  C'lirist. 
In  the  conduct  of  the  woman,  prostrate;  at  the 
leet  of  our  Saviour,  you  see  the  ]iriiicipal  cha- 
racters of  repentance,  in  that  oi'tlie  Pharisee 
you  may  «hserve  the  venom  which  not  unfre- 
<|U(Mitly  infects  the  judgments  which  mankind 
make  of  one  another.  And  in  that  of  Jf.-sus 
Ohrist  you  may  hidiold  free  and  generous  emo- 
tions of  pity,  mercy,  and  compassion.  Let  us 
enter  into  the  matter. 

1.  Let  us  first  ohserve  the  inconlincnt  woman 
now  hecome  a  .penitent.  The  question  most 
eontroverted  hy  inU^rjireters,  and  very  ditfer- 
ently  answered  by  them,  is  that,  which  in  our 
opinion  is  the  least  important,  that  is,  who  was 
this  woman?  Not  tliat  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
her  person,  and  the  history  of  her  life,  would 
not  he  very  proper,  by  explaining  the  nature  of 
her  sins,  to  give  us  a  juslideaof  her  repentance, 
and  so  contribute  to  elucidate  the  te.\t:  but  bo- 
eauso,  though  we  have  taken  a  great  deal  of 
]iains,  we  have  found  nothing  on  this  article 
worthy  to  be  proposed  to  critical  hearers,  who 
insist  upon  being  treated  as-  rational  men,  and 
who  refuse  to  determine  a  point  without  evi- 
dence. 

1  know,  some  expositors,  misled  by  a  resem- 
lilance  between  tliis  anointing  of  Jesus  Christ, 
!ind  that  mentioned  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
St.  John,  when  our  S;iviour  supped  with  Laza- 
rus, have  supposi'fi  that  the  woinan  here  spoken 
of  was  the  same  JVlary,  the  sister  of  Lazarus, 
who  paid  such  a  profound  attention  to  the  dis- 
course of  Jesus  Christ,  and  who,  according  to 
the  evangelist,  "  atiointed  the  l,ord  with  oint- 
ment, and  wiped  his  feet  with  her  hair."  .\nd 
as  other  parts  of  tlui  gospel  speali  of  another 
"Mary  called  Magdalen,"  some  have  thought 
that  Mary  the  sister  of  Lazarufs,  Mary  Magda- 
len, "  out  of  whom"  it  is  said,  Jesus  Christ  had 
"cast  seven  devils,"  and  the  woman  of  our 
te.xt,  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

Wc  do  not  intend  to  enter  on  tliese  discus- 
sions. It  is  sulhcient  to  know,  first,  that  the 
woman  here  in  question  lived  in  the  city  of 
Nain,  which  sutiiciently  distinguishes  her  from 
Mary  the  sister  of  Lazarus,  who  was  at  Betha- 
ny, and  from  Mary  Magdalen,  who  probably 
was  so  called,  because  she  was  born  at  J\Jagdaln, 
a  little  town  in  the  tribe  of  Manasseli.  Second- 
ly, the  woinan  of  our  text  wa.s  one  of  a  bad  life, 
that  is  to  say,  guilty  of  impurity.    The  original 


word  signifies  a  sinner.  This  term  sometimes 
signifies  in  Siuipture  the  condition  of  such  as 
lived  out  of  the  covenant,  and  in  this  sen.se  it  is 
used  in  the  epistle  to  the  Galatians,  where  St. 
I'aiil  calls  pagans  sinners:  hut  the  word  is  ap- 
plied in  Griîck  authors  to  those  women  who 
were  such  as  all  the  circumstiiiices  of  our  his- 
tory engage  us  to  consider  this  woinan.  Though 
it  is  easy  to  determine  the  sin  of  this  woman  in 
ireneral,yet  it  is  not  easy  to  deleriiiine  the  par- 
ticular kind,  whether  it  had  bettn  adultery,  or 
proslitntioii,  or  only  s<ime  one  criminal  intrigue. 
Uiir  reflections  will  by  tiinis  regard  eacli  of 
these  conditions.  In  tine,  it  is  highly  probable, 
both  by  the  discourse  of  the  Pharisee,  and  hy 
the  ointment,  with  which  this  woman  aiiriinted 
the  feet  of  .Jesus  Christ,  that  she  was  a  person 
of  Ronu!  fortune.  This  is  all  I  know  on  this  sort 
of  (juestions.  Should  any  one  require  more,  I 
should  not  blush  to  avow  my  ignorance,  and  to 
recommend  him  to  guides  wi.ser  than  any  1  have 
the  honour  of  being  acquainted  with,  or  to  such 
as  possess  that,  which  in  my  opinion,  of  all  the 
talents  of  learned  men,  seems  to  me  least  to  be 
envied,  I  mean  that  of  having  iixed  opinions  on 
doubtful  suiijects  unsupported  by  any  s<jlid  ar- 
guments. 

We  will  confine  ourselves  to  the  principal 
circumstances  of  the  life  of  this  sinner;  and  to 
put.our  observations  into  a  kind  of  order,  we 
will  examine  first,  hergriet^ — next,  the  Saviour 
to  whom  she  applied — then,  the  love  that  in- 
flamed her — and  lastly,  the  courage  with  which 
she  was  animated.  In  these  four  circuirLstances 
we  observe  four  chief  characters  of  repentance. 
First,  Repentance  must  be  lively,  and  accom- 
panied with  keen  remorse.  Our  sinner  weeps, 
and  her  tears  speak  the  language  of  her  heart. 
Secondly,  Repentance  must  be  wise  in  its  appli- 
cation. Our  sinner  humbles  herself  at  the  feet 
of  him,  "  who  is  the  projiiliation  for  our  sins, 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of 
tiie  whole  world,"  1  John  ii.  '■2.  Thirdly,  Re- 
pentance must  be  tender  in  its  exercise,  and 
acts  of  divine  love  must  take  place  of  the  love 
of  sin.  Koiirthly,  Repent;inco  must  be  bold. 
Our  sinner  surmounts  all  the  scni|)les  dictated 
hy  filse  honour,  she  goes  into  the  house  of  the 
Pharisee,  and  acknowle<iges  her  misconduct  in 
the  presence  of  all  the  guests,  and  was  no  more 
ashamed  to  disavow  her  former  crimes  than  she 
had  been  to  commit  them. 

We  consider,  in  tlie  repentance  of  this  wo- 
man the  grirf  with  which  she  was  penetrated. 
Repentance  must  he  accompanied  with  keen 
remorse.  It  is  the  chief  character  of  it.  In 
whatever  class  of  unchaste  people  this  woman 
ought  to  be  placed,  whether  slie  had  been  a 
common  prostitute,  or  an  adulteress,  or  whe- 
th(;r  b(!ing  unmarried  she  had  abandoned  her- 
self for  once  to  criminal  voluptuousness,  she 
liad  too  much  reason  to  weep  and  lament.  If 
she  had  been  guilty  of  j)ro.<;/i(itHon,  she  could 
not  shed  tears  too  bitter.  Can  any  colours  suf- 
ficiently describe  a  woman,  who  is  arrived  at 
such  a  pitch  of  impurity  as  to  eradicate  every 
degree  of  modesty;  a  woman  letting  herself  out 
to  infamy,  and  giving  herself  up  to  the  highest 
bidder;  one  who  publicly  devotes  herself  to  the 
greatest  excesses,  whose  house  is  a  school  of 
abomination,  whence  proceed  those  detestable 
maxims,  which  poison  the  minds  of  men,  and 


44 


THE  REPENTANCE  OF 


[Ser.  LVIII. 


those  infamous  debaucheries,  which  infect  tlie 
body,  and  throw  whole  families  into  a  state  of 
putrefaction?  It  is  saying  too  little  to  aflirni 
that  this  woman  ongrlit  to  shod  hitler  tears  at 
the  rc<'ollc(;tion  of  lii-r  scandalous  and  dihsohite 
life.  The  priests  and  magistrates,  and  people 
of  Nain  ought  to  have  covered  thenjselves  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  for  having  tolerated  such 
a  house,  for  not  having  one  spark  of  the  zeal 
of  "  Phinehas  the  son  of  Eloazar,"  Numb.  xxv. 
1 1.  For  having  left  one  stone  upon  anotiicr  as 
a  monument  of  the  protiigacy  of  tlie  city,  and 
for  not  having  rased  the  very  foundations  of 
such  a  house,  tiiough  they,  who  were  employed 
in  tlie  business,  had  been  buried  in  the  ruins. 
One  such  a  house  suffered  in  a  city  is  enough 
to  draw  down  tlie  curse  of  heaven  on  a  whole 
province,  a  whole  kingdom. 

Rome,  what  a  fair  opportunity  have  I  now 
to  confound  thee!  Am  1  not  able  to  produce 
in  the  sigiit  of  the  whole  world  full  proof  of  thy 
shame  and  iiifan)y?  Do  not  a  part  of  thy  reve- 
nues proceed  from  a  tax  on  prostitution.'*  Are 
not  prostitutes  of  both  sexes  thy  "  nursing  fa- 
thers and  nursing  mothers.'"  Is  not  the  holy 
see  in  part  supported,  to  use  the  language  of 
Scripture,  by  "the  hire  of  a  whore,  and  the 
price  of  a  dog.'"  Deut.  xxxii.  18.  But  alas!  I 
should  leave  thee  too  much  reason  to  retort. 
I  should  fear,  you  would  oppose  our  excesses 
against  your  excesses.  1  should  have  too  much 
reason  to  fear  a  wound  by  the  dart  shot  at  thee. 
I  should  tremble  lest  thou  shouldst  draw  it 
smoking  from  thine  own  unclean  heart,  and 
lodge  it  in  ours.  O  God!  "  teach  my  hands  to- 
day to  war,  and  my  fingers  to  fight."  My 
brethren,  should  access  to  this  pulpit  be  for  ever 
forbidden  to  us  in  future;  though  I  were  sure 
this  discourse  would  be  considered  as  a  torch 
of  sedition  intended  to  set  all  these  provinces  in 
a  flame;  and  should  a  part  of  the  pnnisluneut 
due  to  the  fomenters  of  the  crime  fall  upon  tiie 
head  of  him  who  has  the  courage  to  reprove  it, 
I  do,  and  I  will  declare,  that  the  prosjierity  of 
these  provinces  can  never,  no  never,  be  well 
established,  while  such  affronts  arc  publicly 
offered  to  the  majesty  of  tlial  God,  "  wlio  is  of 
purer  eyes  than  to  behold  evil,"  JIaU.  i.  13. 
Ah!  proclaim  no  mure  lasts,  convoke  !io  more 
solemn  assemblies,  ajipoint  no  more  public  pray- 
ers to  avert  the  anger  of  heaven.  "  I/Ct  not 
the  priests,  the  ministers  of  the  Lord,  weep  be- 
tween the  porch  and  the  altar,  let  thorn  not  say, 
spare  thy  people,  O  Lord,  and  give  not  tliino 
heritage  to  reproach,"  Joel  ii.  11.  All  this  ex- 
terior of  devotion  will  be  useless,  while  there 
are  amongst  us  places  publicly  set  apart  for 
impurity.  The  filthy  vapour  that  proceeds  from 
them  will  ascend,  and  form  a  tliick  cloud  be- 
tween us  and  tlie  throne  of  grace,  a  cloud  vvhicli 
the  most  ardent  prayers  caruiot  i)ierce  tiirougli. 

Perhaps  our  penitent  had  been  guilty  of  «(/iiZ- 
leiij.  What  idea  must  a  woman  form  of  herself, 
if  she  has  comuiitted  this  crime,  and  considers 
it  in  its  true  point  of  light'  Lot  her  attentively 
observe  the  (langerons  condition  into  which  she 
has  j)lung<îd  herself,  and  that  to  which  she  is 
yet  exposed.  She  has  taken  for  her  model  the 
woman  described  by  Solomon,  and  who  has  had 
too  many  copies  in  latter  ages,  that  "strange 

*  See  Sermon  iiiii.  in  the  note. 


woman  in  the  attire  of  a  harlot,  who  is  subtle 
of  heart,  loud  and  stubborn,  her  feet  abiding  not 
in  her  house,  now  without,  now  in  the  streets, 
lying  in  wait  at  every  corner,  and  saying  to 
such  among  the  youth  as  are  void  of  under- 
standing, "  1  have  peace-oflerings  with  me,  this 
day  have  I  paid  my  vows.  1  have  decked  my 
bed  with  coverings  of  tapestry,  with  fine  linen 
of  Egyi)t.  I  have  perfumed  my  bed  with  myrrh, 
aloes,  and  cinnamon.  Come,  let  us  take  our 
fill  of  love,  for  the  good  man  is  not  at  home,  ho 
is  gone  a  long  journey,  and  will  not  come  home 
till  the  day  appointed,"  Prov.  vii.  5,  Sac.  Is  it 
necessary,  think  you,  my  brethren,  to  alter 
many  of  these  descriptive  expressions  to  give  a 
likeness  of  the  manners  of  our  times? 

Are  not  modern  dissipations  described  in  the 
perpetual  motion  of  this  "  strange  woman, 
whose  feet  abide  not  in  her  house,  who  is  now 
without  in  the  country,  then  in  the  streets, 
and  at  every  corner?"  What  are  some  curious, 
elegant,  and  fashionable  dresses,  but  the  "  at- 
tire of  a  harlot?"  Are  not  the  continual  arti- 
fices, and  accumulated  dissimulations,  which 
some  people  use  to  conceal  future  designs,  or 
to  cover  past  crimes,  are  not  tiiese  features  of 
this  "subtle  woman?"  What  are  those  pains 
taken  to  form  certain  parties  of  pleasure,  but 
features  of  this  woman,  who  says,  "I  have 
peace-ofterings  with  me,  I  have  this  day  paid 
my  vows,  come,  let  us  solace  ourselves  with 
love&'"  What  are  certain  moments  expected 
with  impatience,  managed  with  industry,  and 
employed  with  avidity,  but  features  of  this 
woman,  who  says  "  to  fools  among  the  youth, 
the  good  man  is  not  at  home,  nor  will  he 
come  home  till  the  day  appointed?" — I  stop — 
if  the  unchaste  woman  in  the  text,  had  been 
guilty  of  adultery,  she  had  defiled  the  most 
sacred  and  inviolable  of  all  connexions.  She 
had  kiiulled  discord  in  the  family  of  him  who 
was  the  object  of  her  criminal  regard.  She 
had  given  an  example  of  impurity  and  perfidy 
to  her  children  and  her  domestics,  to  the  world 
and  to  the  church.  She  had  atVronted  in  the 
most  cruel  and  fatal  manner  the  man,  to  whom 
she  owed  the  tenderest  attachment,  and  the 
most  profound  respect.  She  had  covered  her 
parents  with  disgrace,  and  provoked  such  as 
knew  her  debauchery  to  inquire  from  which 
of  her  ancestors  she  had  received  such  impure 
and  tainted  blood.  Slie  had  divided  her  heart 
and  her  bed  with  the  most  implacable  enemy 
of  her  family.  She  had  hazarded  the  legiti- 
macy of  her  children,  and  confounded  the  law- 
ful heir  with  a  spurious  olTspring.  Are  any  tears 
too  bitter  to  expiate  such  an  odious  complica- 
tion of  crimes?  Is  any  quantity  too  great  to 
shed,  to  wash  away  such  guilt  as  this? 

I'ut  we  will  not  take  pains  to  blacken  tlie 
reputation  of  this  ])enitent:  we  may  suppose 
her  uni:haslo,  as  the  evangelist  leads  us  to  do, 
without  supposing  her  an  adulteress  or  a  pros- 
titute. Slie  might  have  fallen  once,  and  only 
once.  Her  sin,  however,  even  in  this  case, 
must  liave  become  a  perpetual  source  of  sor- 
row: thousands  and  tiiousands  of  sad  reflec- 
tions must  have  pierced  her  heart.  Was  this 
the  only  fruit  of  my  education?  Is  this  all  I 
have  learned  from  the  many  lessons,  that  have 
be(Mi  given  me  from  my  cradle,  and  which 
seem  so  proper  to  guard  me  for  ever  against 


Ser.  LVIII.] 


THE  UNCHASTE  WOMAN. 


45 


the  rocks  wliore  my  feeble  virtue  has  been  ship- 
wrecked? I  have  renounced  tlio  decency  of  my 
sex,  the  appurtenances  of  which  always  fiave 
been  timidity,  scrupulosity,  delicacy,  and  mo- 
desty. 1  have  committed  one  of  tliose  crimes 
which,  whether  it  were  justice  or  cruelty,  man- 
kind never  forgive.  I  have  given  myself  up 
to  the  unkindness  and  contempt  of  him,  to 
whom  I  have  shamefully  sacrificed  my  honour. 
I  have  fixed  daggers  in  the  hearts  of  my  pa- 
rents; I  have  cau.sed  that  to  be  attributed  to 
their  negligence,  which  was  occasioned  only 
by  my  own  depravity  and  folly.  1  have  ban- 
ished myself  for  ever  from  the  comj)any  of 
prudent  persons.  How  can  I  bear  their  looks? 
Where  can  I  find  a  night  dark  enough  to  con- 
ceal me  from  their  siglit? 

Thus  miglit  our  mourner  tliink;  but  to  refer 
all  her  grief  to  motives  of  this  kind  would  be 
to  insult  her  repentance.  She  has  other  mo- 
tives more  worthy  of  a  penitent.  This  heart, 
the  heart  that  my  God  demanded  with  so  much 
condescension  and  love,  I  have  denied  him, 
and  given  up  to  voluptuousness.  This  body, 
which  should  have  been  a  "  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  is  become  the  den  of  an  impure  pas- 
sion. The  time  and  pains  I  should  have  em- 
ployed in  the  work  of  my  salvation,  I  have 
spent  in  robbing  Jesus  Christ  of  his  conquests. 
I  have  disputed  witli  my  Saviour  the  souls  he 
redeemed  with  l)is  blood,  and  what  he  came  to 
save  I  have  endeavoured  to  sink  in  perdition. 
I  am  become  the  cause  of  the  remorse  of  my 
accomplice  in  sin,  he  considers  me  with  horror, 
he  reproaches  me  with  the  very  temptations, 
to  which  he  exposed  me,  and  when  our  eyes 
meet  in  a  religious  assembly,  or  in  the  perfor- 
mance of  a  ceremony  of  devotion,  he  tacitly 
tells  me,  that  I  made  him  unworthy  to  be 
there.  I  shall  be  his  executioner  on  his  death- 
bed, perhaps  I  shall  be  so  through  all  eternity. 
I  have  exposed  myself  to  a  thousand  dangers, 
from  which  nothing  but  the  grace  of  God  has 
protected  me,  to  a  thousand  perils  and  dreadful 
consequences,  the  sad  and  horrible  examples 
which  stain  all  history.  Such  are  the  causes 
of  the  tears  of  this  penitent.  "  She  stood  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus  Christ,  weeping,  and  washed 
his  feet  with  tears."  This  is  the  first  character 
of  true  repentance,  it  consists  in  part  in  keen 
remorse. 

Repentance  must  be  icise  in  its  application. 
Our  sinner  did  not  go  to  the  foot  of  Mount  Si- 
nai to  seek  for  absolution  under  pretence  of 
her  own  righteousness,  and  to  demand  justifi- 
cation as  a  reward  due  to  her  works.  She  was 
afraid,  as  she  had  reason  to  be,  that  the  lan- 
guage of  tliat  dreadful  mountain  proceeding 
from  the  mouth  of  divine  justice  would  pierce 
her  through.  Nor  did  she  endeavour  to  ward 
ort'  tlie  blows  of  justice  by  covering  herself  with 
superstitious  practices.  She  did  not  sa}', 
"  wherewith  shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and 
bow  myself  before  the  high  God?  shall  1  come 
before  liim  with  burnt-oflerings,  with  calves  of  a 
year  old?  Will  the  Lord  be  pleased  with  thou- 
sands of  rams,  or  with  ten  thousand  rivers  of 
oil?  Shall  I  give  my  first-born  for  my  trans- 
gression, the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  my 
soul?"  Micah  vi.  7.  She  did  not  even  require 
priests  and  Lévites  to  ofier  propitiatory  sacri- 
fices for  her.    She  discerned  the  Bophisms  of 


error,  and  acknowledged  the  Redeemer  of 
mankind,  under  the  veils  of  infirmity  and  po- 
verty that  covered  liitii.  She  know  that  "the 
bl(jod  of  bulls  and  of  goats"  could  not  purify 
tlie  conscience.  Slio  knew  that  Jesus  sitting 
at  table  with  the  Pharisee  was  the  only  offer- 
ing, the  only  victim  of  worth  sufficient  to  sat- 
isfy the  justice  of  an  offended  God.  She  knew 
tiiat  he  was  "  made  unto  sinners  wisdom,  and 
riglitoousncss,  and  sanctification  and  redemp- 
tion:" that  his  name  was  "  the  only  one  among 
men  whereby  they  might  be  saved."  It  was 
to  .lesus  Christ  that  she  had  recourse,  bedew- 
ing with  tears  the  feet  of  him  who  was  about 
to  shed  his  blood  for  her,  and  receiving  by  an 
anticipated  faith  the  benefit  of  the  deatii  that 
lie  was  going  to  suffer,  she  renounced  dépend- 
ance on  every  kind  of  satisfaction  except  his. 

The  third  character  of  the  repentance  of  this 
sinner  is  love.  It  should  seem,  Jesus  Christ 
would  have  us  consider  all  her  actions  as  evi- 
dences of  love,  rather  than  as  marks  of  repent- 
ance; "she  hath  loved  much."  These  things 
are  not  incompatible.  Though  "  perfect  love 
casteth  out  fear,"  yet  it  does  not  cast  out  grief, 
for  the  pardon  of  sin  received  by  an  elect  soul, 
far  from  diminishing  the  regret  which  it  feels 
for  committing  it,  contributes  to  augment  it. 
The  more  we  love  God,  the  greater  tlie  pain  felt 
fi)r  otfending  him.  Yea,  this  love  that  makes 
the  happiness  of  angels,  this  love  that  inflames 
seraphim,  this  love  that  supports  the  believers 
under  the  most  cruel  torments,  this  love  is  the 
greatest  punishment  of  a  penitent.  To  have 
offended  the  God  we  love,  a  God  rendered 
amiable  by  infinite  perfections,  a  God  so  ten- 
der, so  compassionate  as  to  pardon  the  very  sins 
we  lament;  this  love  excites  in  a  soul  such 
emotions  of  repentance  as  we  should  labour  in 
vain  to  express,  unless  your  hearts,  in  concert 
with  our  mouths,  feel  in  proportion  as  wo  de- 
scribe. 

Courage  is  the  fourth  character  of  the  re- 
pentance, or,  if  you  will,  the  love  of  ^lis  wo- 
man. She  does  not  say.  What  will  they  say  of 
me?  Ah,  my  brethren,  how  often  has  this  sin- 
gle consideration,  What  u-ill  they  say  of  me? 
been  an  obstacle  to  repentance!  How  many 
penitents  have  been  discouraged,  if  not  pre- 
vented by  it!  To  say  all  in  one  word,  how 
many  souls  has  it  plunged-into  perdition!  Per- 
sons affected  by  this,  though  urged  by  their 
consciences  to  renounce  the  world  and  its  plea- 
sures, have  not  been  able  to  get  over  a  fear  of 
the  opinions  of  mankind  concerning  their  con- 
version. Is  any  one  persuaded  of  the  necessity 
of  living  retired?  This  consideration.  What 
u-ill  he  said  ofme'^  terrifies  him.  It  will  be  said, 
that  I  choose  to  be  singular,  that  I  affect  to 
distinguish  myself  from  other  men,  that  1  am 
an  enemy  to  social  pleasure.  Does  any  one 
desire  to  be  exact  in  the  performance  of  Divine 
worship?  This  one  consideration.  What  viU 
they  say  of  me?  terrifies.  They  will  say,  I  af- 
fect to  set  myself  off  for  a  religious  and  pious 
person,  I  want  to  impose  on  the  church  by  a 
specious  outside;  they  will  say,  I  am  a  weak 
man,  full  of  fancies  and  phantoms.  Our  peni- 
tent breaks  through  every  worldly  considera- 
tion. "  She  goes,"  saj-s  a  modem  author, 
"into  a  strange  house,  without  being  invited, 
to  disturb  the  pleasures  of  a  festival,  by  an  ill- 


46 


THE  REPENTANCE  OF 


[Ser.  Lvm. 


timed  sorrow,  to  cast  lierself  at  the  feet  of  the 
Saviour,  vviliiout  fearing  what  would  be  said, 
either  of  her  past  hfe,  or  of  lier  ])rescrit  bold- 
ness, to  make  by  this  extraordinary  action  a 
kind  of  public  confession  of  her  dissoluteness, 
and  to  sutfer  for  the  first  puiushnient  of  her 
sins,  and  for  a  proof  of  her  conversion,  such 
insults  as  the  pride  of  the  Pharisees,  and  her 
own  ruhied  reputation  would  certainly  draw 
upon  her."*  We  have  seen  the  behaviour  of  the 
IKiuitent;  now  let  us  observe  the  judjrment  of 
the  Pharisee.  "  If  this  man  were  a  ])rt)phet,  he 
would  have  known  wlio,  and  what  manner  of 
woman  this  is  that  toucheth  liim,  for  she  is  a 
woman  of  had  fame." 

II.  Tlie  evanirelist  expressly  tells  us,  that  the 
Pharisee  vho  thus  judged,  was  the  person  at 
whose  table  Jesus  Christ  was  eating.  Whether 
lie  were  a  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  is  very 
probable,  and  as  his  calling  Christ  Master  seems 
to  imjjort,  or  whetlier  he  had  invited  him  for 
other  reasons,  are  questions  of  little  import- 
ance, and  we  will  not  now  examine  thciu.  It 
is  certain,  our  Saviour  did  often  eat  with  some 
Pharisees,  who  far  from  being  his  disciples, 
were  the  most  implacable  enemies  of  his  per- 
son and  doctrine.  If  this  man  were  a  disciple 
of  Jesus  Clirist,  it  should  seem  very  strange 
that  lie  should  doubt  the  divinity  of  the  mission 
of  Christ,  and  inwardly  refuse  him  even  the 
quality  of  a  prophet.  Tiiis  Pharisee  was 
named  Simon;  however,  nothing  obliges  us 
either  to  confijimd  Simon  the  Pharisee  with 
Simon  the  leper,  mentioned  in  Matthew,  and 
to  whose  house  Jesus  Clirist  retired,  or  the  his- 
tory of  our  text  with  that  related  in  the  last 
mentioned  place,  for  the  circumstances  are 
very  dinereiit,  as  it  would  be  easy  to  prove, 
had  we  not  subjects  more  important  to  propose 
to  you.  Whosoever  this  Pharisee  might  be, 
he  said  within  himself,  "  This  man,  if  he  were 
a  prophet,  would  have  known  who,  and  what 
manner  of  woman  this  is  that  toucheth  him; 
for  she  is  a  sinner."  There  are  four  defects  in 
this  judgment — a  criminal  indolence — an  ex- 
travagant rashness — an  intolerable  pride — an 
anti-Christian  cruelty.  As  we  cannot  help 
condemning  the  opinion  of  the  Pharisee  for 
these  four  dt^fects,  so  we  cannot  avoid  censur- 
ing most  of  the  judgments,  that  people  form 
on  the  conduct  of  their  neighbours  for  the  same 
reasons. 

^  criminal  indolence.  That  disposition  of 
mind,  I  allow,  is  very  censurable,  which  in- 
spires a  perpetual  attention  to  the  actions  of 
our  neighbours,  and  the  motive  of  it  is  sufli- 
cient  to  make  us  abhor  the  practice.  We  have 
reason  to  liiink,  that  the  more  peojilc  pry  into 
the  conduct  of  tiioir  neighbours,  the  more  they 
intend  to  gratify  tiie  barbarous  jileasure  of  de- 


in  regard  to  their  manners,  and  to  distribute 
punishments  of  sin  antl  rewards  of  virtue.  At 
least,  when  we  usurp  this  right,  let  us  not  ag- 
gravate our  conduct  by  the  manner  in  which 
we  exercise  tlie  iiold  imperious  usurpation. 
Let  us  not  pronounce  like  bold  iniquitous 
judges  on  the  actions  of  those  sinners,  to  whom 
nature,  society,  and  religion,  ought  to  unite  us 
in  an  aflectionate  manner.  J^et  us  procure  ex- 
act inforniiilioiis  of  the  causes  of  such  crimi- 
nals as  we  summon  before  our  tribunals,  and 
let  us  not  deliver  our  sentences  till  we  have 
weighed  in  a  just  balance  whatever  tends  to 
con(lemn,  or  to  absolve  them.  This  would 
bridle  our  malignity.  We  sliould  bo  constrain- 
ed to  suspend  for  a  long  time  our  avidity  to  so- 
licit, and  to  iiasten  the  death  of  a  sinner.  The 
pleasure  of  declaring  him  guilty  would  be 
counteriialanced  by  the  pain  of  trying  the 
cause.  Did  tliis  Pharisee  give  himsfdf  time  to 
examine  the  whole  conduct  of  the  sinner,  as 
he  called  her?  Did  he  enter  into  all  the  discus- 
sions necessary  to  determine  whether  she  were 
a  penitent  sinner,  or  an  obstinate  sinner:  whe- 
ther she  were  reformed,  or  hardened  like  a  re- 
probate in  the  practice  of  sin?  No,  certainly. 
At  the  sight  of  tlie  woman  he  recollects  only 
the  crimes  of  which  she  had  been  guilty;  he 
did  not  see  her,  and  he  did  not  choose  to  see 
her  in  any  other  point  of  light;  he  pronounced 
her  character  rasiily,  and  he  wanted  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  as  rash  as  himself;  this  is  a  woman 
of  bad  fame.  Do  you  not  perceive,  my  breth- 
ren, what  wicked  indolence  animated  this  ini- 
quitous iudge,  and  perverted  his  judgment' 

The  Pliarisi!c  sinned  by  rashness.  See  how 
he  judged  of  the  conduct  of  C'hrist,  in  regard 
to  the  woman,  and  of  what  the  woman  ought 
to  expect  of  .lesiis  Christ,  on  supposition  liis 
mission  had  been  divine,  "  this  man,  if  ho  were 
a  prophet,  would  have  known  who  and  what 
manner  of  woman  this  is  that  touched  liim, 
for  she  is  a  sinner."  This  opinion  supposes, 
that  a  pro])liet  ought  not  in  any  case  lo  have 
patience  with  a  woman  of  tliis  .sort.  As  if  it 
were  impossible  for  a  prophet  to  liave  any  de- 
sign im])enetrablc  to  the  eye  of  a  Pharisee! 
As  if  any  one  had  a  right  to  censure  the  con- 
duct of  a  man  under  the  direction  of  the  infi- 
nite Spirit!  Hut  it  is  because  this  man  is  a 
])roj)liet,  it  is  because  he  is  more  tiian  a  pro- 
])het,  it  is  because  he  is  the  spring,  tiie  ocean, 
from  wliich  all  the  ])ri>|)hets  derived  tlie  super- 
natural knowledge  of  tlie  greatest  mysteries  of 
revelation,  of  ])rodicling  events  tlie  least  likely 
to  come  to  jiass,  of  seeing  into  the  most  distant 
and  im|)enotrablt!  luturity;  it  is  because  of 
this,  that  he  is  capable  of  forming  a  just  notion 
of  the  character  of  a  sinner,  and  the  nature  of 
a  sin.     Yes,  none  but  God  can  form  such  a 


faming  them:  but  there    is   a   disposition    far  |  judgment.      "  Who  art  thou,  that  judgest  aiio- 


more  censurable  still,  and  that  is  to  be  always 
ready  to  form  a  rigorous  judgment,  on  tiic 
least  appearances  of  inq)ropriely,  and  without 
taking  pains  to  iiupiiro,  whether  tiiere  be  no 
circumstances  that  diminish  the  guilt  of  an  ac- 
tion apparently  wrong,  nothing  that  renders  it 
deserving  of  patience  or  jiity.  It  does  not  be- 
long to  us  to  set  ourselves  up  for  judges  of  the 
actions  of  our  brethren,  to  become  inquisitors 


*  Ficchier,  panégyrique  de  la  MagdelciDc. 


therr"  Jlom.  xiv.  '1.  Such  a  judgment  de- 
jiends  on  so  many  didicult  combinations,  that 
none  but  an  infinite  intelligence  is  cajiable  of 
making  it  with  exactness. 

Ill  order  to  judge  properly  of  a  crime,  and  a 
criminal,  we  must  examine  tiie  power  of  the 
tcin|>latioiis  to  which  he  was  ex|>oscd,  the  op- 
portunities given  him  to  avoid  it,  the  force  of 
ins  natural  constitution,  the  motives  that  ani- 
mated him,  the  resistance  he  made,  the  vir- 
tues he  practised,  the  talents  God  gave  him, 


Ser.  LVIII.] 


THE  UNCHASTE  WOMAN. 


47 


the  education  he  had,  what  knowledge  ho  had 
acquired,  what  conflicts  he  endured,  what  re- 
morse he  has  felt.  An  exact  roinpiirison  ought 
to  be  made  of  his  sins  witii  liis  virtue»,  in  or- 
der to  determine  whether  sin  prevails  over 
virtue,  or  wliether  virtue  prevails  over  sin, 
and  on  this  confronting  of  evidence  a  proper 
idea  of  tiic  sinner  in  question  must  be  formed. 
It  must  be  examined  whether  he  were  seduced 
by  ignorance,  or  whether  he  were  allured  by 
example,  or  wliether  he  yielded  tiirough  weak- 
ness, whether  dissipation  or  obstinacy,  malice, 
or  contempt  of  God  and  his  law,  confirmed 
him  in  sin.  On  the  examination  of  all  these 
articles  depends  the  truth  of  the  judgment, 
which  we  form  of  a  fellow  creature.  There 
needs  nothing  but  one  circumstance,  nothing 
but  one  degree  of  more  or  less  in  a  moral  ac- 
tion to  change  the  nature  of  it,  to  render  it 
pardonable  or  irrémissible,  deserving  compas- 
sion or  horror.  Now  who  is  he,  who  is  the 
man,  that  is  equal  to  this  combination?  Ac- 
cordingly, nothing  more  directly  violates  the 
laws  of  benevolence  and  justice  than  some  de- 
cisive opinions,  which  we  thiidv  jiroiJcr  to  give 
on  the  characters  of  our  neighbours.  It  is  in- 
deed the  ortice  of  judges  to  punisii  such  crimes 
as  disturb  the  peace  of  society;  and  each  in- 
dividual may  say  to  his  brethren,  this  is  the 
path  of  virtue,  that  is  the  road  of  vice.  We 
have  authority  indeed  to  inform  them  that 
"  the  unrighteous,"  that  is  "  adulterers,  idola- 
ters, and  fornicators  shall  not  inherit  the  king- 
dom of  God,"  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10.  Indeed  we 
ought  to  apjirise  them  of  danger,  and  to  make 
them  tremble  at  the  sight  of  the  bottomless 
pit,  towards  which  they  are  advancing  at  a 
great  pace:  but  to  make  such  a  combination 
as  we  have  described,  and  to  pronounce  such 
and  such  people  reprobates  is  rashness,  it  is 
to  assume  all  the  authority  of  the  sovereign 
judge. 

There  is  in  the  opinion  of  the  Pharisee  a 
selfish  pille.  What  is  it  then  that  makes  this 
woma:i  deserve  his  indignation?  At  what  tri- 
bunal will  she  be  found  more  odious  than  other 
sinners  who  insolently  lift  their  heads  both  in 
the  world  and  tlie  church?  It  is  at  tiie  tribu- 
nal of  pride.  Thou  superb  Pharisee!  Open 
thine  eyes,  see,  look,  examine,  there  is  within 
the  walls,  where  thy  feast  is  prepared,  there  is 
even  at  thy  table  a  much  greater  sinner,  tlian 
this  woman,  and  that  siimer  is  thyself!  The 
sin,  of  which  thou  art  guilty,  and  which  is 
more  abominable  than  unchastily,  more  abo- 
minable than  adultery,  more  abominable  than 
prostitution  itself,  is  pride,  and  above  all  Piia- 
risaical  pride.  The  sin  of  pride  is  always 
hateful  in  the  eyes  of  God,  whether  it  be  pride 
of  honour,  pride  of  fortune,  or  pride  of  power; 
but  pride  arising  from  an  opinion  of  our  own 
righteousness,  is  a  direct  crime  against  the  di- 
vine Majesty.  On  what  principles,  good  God! 
is  such  a  pride  founded!  What  insolence  has 
he,  who  is  animated  with  it  when  he  presents 
himself  before  God?  He  appears  without  fear 
or  dread  before  that  terrible  throne,  in  the 
presence  of  which  seraphim  cover  their  faces, 
and  the  heavens  themselves  are  unclean.  He 
ventures  to  say  to  himself,  I  have  done  all  my 
duty.  I  have  had  as  much  respect  for  Al- 
mighty God  as  he  deserves.     I  have  had  as 


nmch  zeal  and  ardour  in  prayer  as  the  exercise 
reipiires.  1  have  so  restrained  my  tongue  as 
to  have  no  word,  so  directed  my  mind  as  to 
liave  no  thougiit,  so  kept  my  heart  as  to  have 
no  criminal  emotion  to  reproach  myself  with; 
or  if  I  have  luul  at  any  time  any  frailty,  I  have 
so  fully  made  amends  for  it  by  my  virtue,  that 
1  have  sulliciently  satisfied  all  the  just  demands 
of  Ciod.  I  ask  no  favour,  1  want  n(;thing  but 
justice.  Let  the  Judge  of  the  world  call  me 
before  him.  Let  devouring  fire,  and  eternal 
liâmes  glitter  in  my  presence.  Let  the  tribu- 
nal of  retribution  be  prepared  before  me. 
My  arm  shall  save  me,  and  a  recollection  of 
my  own  righteousness  shall  support  me  in  be- 
holding all  tlu!se  objects.  You  sutliciently 
perceive,  my  brethren,  what  makes  this  dispo- 
sition so  hateful,  and  we  need. not  enlarge  on 
the  subject.  Humility  is  the  supplement  of 
the  virtues  of  the  greatest  saints.  What  ap- 
plication soever  we  have  made  to  our  duty,  we 
liave  always  fallen  short  of  our  obligations. 
We  owe  so  nmch  homage  to  God  as  to  ac- 
kn<jwledge,  that  we  camiot  stand  before  him, 
unless  we  be  objects  of  his  mercy;  and  a  crime 
humbly  acknowledged  is  more  tolerable  in  hi» 
eyes,  than  a  virtue  set  forth  with  pride  and 
parade. 

What  above  all  poisons  the  judgment  of  the 
Pharisee,  is  that  spirit  of  cruelly  which  we 
have  observed.  He  was  content,  though  all 
the  tears  of  ti  ue  repentance  shed  by  this  wo- 
man were  shed  in  vain,  and  wished,  when  the 
woman  had  recourse  to  mercy,  that  God  would 
have  assumed  in  tiiat  very  instant  a  shocking 
character,  that  is,  that  he  would  have  "  despis- 
ed the  sacrifice  of  a  broken  and  a  contrite 
heart,"  Ps.  li.  17.  It  is  delightful,  my  bre- 
tiiren,  to  combat  such  a  fatal  j)retence.  There 
is  a  high  satisfaction  in  filling  one's  mind  with 
just  and  elevated  ideas  of  divine  mercy.  All 
we  say  against  the  barbarity  of  the  Pharisee 
will  serve  to  strengthen  our  faith,  when  Satan 
endeavours  to  drive  us  to  despair,  as  he  en- 
deavoured once  to  destroy  us  by  security: 
when  he  magnifies  the  sins  we  have  commit- 
ted, as  he  diminished  them,  when  he  tempted 
us  to  commit  them. 

'flic  mcraj  of  God  is  not  an  abstract  ultiihiite, 
discovered  with  great  dilliculty  thrcjugh  shadjes 
and  darkness  by  our  weak  reason:  but  it  is  an 
attribute  issuing  from  that  among  his  other 
|)erfections,  of  which  he  has  given  the  most 
clear  and  sensible  proofs,  I  mean  his  goodness. 
All  things  preach  to  us,  that  (>od  is  good. 
Tliere  is  no  star  in  the  firmament,  no  wave  of 
the  ocean,  no  production  of  the  earth,  no  plant 
in  our  gardens,  no  period  in  our  duration,  no 
gifts  of  his  favour,  I  had  almost  said  no  strokes 
of  his  anger,  which  do  not  contribute  to  prove 
this  proposition,  God  is  good.- 

Jin  idea  of  Ike  mercy  of  God  is  not  particu- 
lar to  some  places,  to  any  age,  nation,  religion, 
or  sect.  Although  the  empire  of  truth  does 
not  depend  on  the  number  of  those  that  submit 
to  it,  there  is  always  some  ground  to  suspect 
we  are  deceived,  when  we  are  singular  in  our 
opinions,  and  the  whole  world  contradict  us: 
but  here  the  sentiments  of  all  mankind  to  a 
certain  point  agree  with  ours.  All  have  ac- 
knowledged themselves  guilty,  and  all  have 
professed  to  worship  a  merciful  God.    Though 


48, 


THE  REPENTANCE  OF 


[Ser.  Lvm. 


mankind  have  entertained  different  sentiments 
on  the  nature  of  true  repentance,  yet  all  have 
acknowledged  the  prerogatives  of  it. 

The  idea  of  the  mercy  of  God  is  not  founded 
merely  on  human  speculations,  subject  to  er- 
ror: but  it  is  founded  on  clear  revelation;  and 
revelation  preaciies  this  mercy  far  more  em- 
phatically than  reason.  These  decisions  arc 
not  such  as  are  expres.sed  in  a  vague  and  ob- 
scure manner,  so  as  to  leave  room  for  doubt 
and  uncertainty,  but  they  are  clear,  intelligi- 
ble, and  reiterated. 

The  decisions  of  revelation  concerning  the 
mercy  of  God  do  not  leave  us  to  consider  it  as 
a  doctrine  incongruous  with  the  whole  of  reli- 
gion, or  unconnected  with  any  particular  doc- 
trine taught  as  a  part  of  it:  but  they  establish 
it  as  a  capital  doctrine,  and  on  which  the  whole 
system  of  relicion  turns.  What  is  our  reli- 
gioa'  It  is  a  dispensation  of  mercy.  It  is  a 
supplement  to  human  frailty.  It  is  a  refuge 
for  penitent  sinners  from  the  pursuits  of  divine 
justice.  It  is  a  covenant,  in  which  we  engage 
to  give  ourselves  wholly  up  to  the  laws  of  God, 
and  God  condescends  to  accept  our  imperfect 
services,  and  to  pardon  oursins,  how  enormous 
soever  they  have  been,  on  our  genuine  repent- 
ance. The  promises  of  mercy  made  to  us  in 
religion  are  not  restrained  to  sinners  of  a  par- 
ticular order,  nor  to  sin  of  a  particular  kind; 
but  they  regard  all  sinners  and  all  sins  of  every 
possible  kind.  There  is  no  crime  so  odious,  no 
circumstance  so  aggravating,  no  life  so  obsti- 
nately spent  in  sin,  as  not  to  be  pitiable  and 
pardonable,  when  the  sinner  affectionately  and 
sincerely  returns  to  God.  If  perseverance  in 
evil,  if  the  sin  against  tlie  Holy  Ghost  exclude 
people  from  mercy,  it  is  because  they  render 
repentance  impracticable,  not  because  they 
render  it  ineffectual. 

The  doctiine  of  divine  mercy  is  not  founded 
on  promises  to  be  accomplished  at  some  re- 
mote and  distant  period;  but  experience  has 
jitstifud  tiicse  promises.  Witness  the  people 
of  Israel,  witness  Moses,  David,  Ahab,  Heze- 
kiah,  witness  Manasseh,  Nineveh,  Nebuchad- 
nezzar. What  has  not  repentance  done.'  By 
repentance  the  people  of  Israel  suspended  the 
judgments  of  God,  when  they  were  ready  to 
fall  on  them  and  crush  them.  By  repentance 
Moses  "  stood  in  the  breach,  and  turned  away 
the  wrath  of  God."  By  repentance  David  re- 
covered the  joy  of  his  salvation,  after  he  had 
committed  tlie  crimes  of  murder  and  adultery. 
By  repentance  even  Ahab  obtained  a  reprieve. 
By  repentance  Ilezekiah  enlarged  the  term 
of  his  life  fifteen  years.  By  repentance  Ma- 
nasseh saved  himself  and  his  people.  By  re- 
pentance Nineveh  obtained  a  revocation  of  the 
decree  tiiat  a  prophet  had  denounced  against 
it.  By  repentance  Nebuchadnezzar  recovered 
his  understanding  and  his  excellent  majesty.  It 
would  be  ea.sy  to  enlarge  tiiis  list.  So  many 
reflections,  so  many  arguments  against  the 
cruel  pretence  of  the  Pharisee. 

III.  You  liave  seen  in  our  first  part  the  re- 
pentance of  the  immodest  woman.  In  the  se- 
cond you  have  seen  the  judgment  of  tlie  Phari- 
see. Now  it  remains  to  consider  the  judgment 
of  Jesus  Christ  concerning  tliem  i>otli.  "  There 
was  a  certain  creditor,  which  hiui  two  debtors: 
the   one   owed   five   hundred  pence,  and  the 


other  fifty.  And  when  they  had  nothing  to 
pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both.  Tell  me 
therefore,  wliich  of  them  will  love  him  mosL' 
Simon  answered  and  said,  I  suppose  tliat  he  to 
whom  he  forgave  most.  And  lie  said  unto  him, 
thou  hast  riglitly  judged.  And  he  turned  to 
the  woman,  and  said  unto  Simon,  Seest  thou 
this  woman?  I  entered  into  thine  house,  thou 
gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet:  but  she  hath 
washed  my  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  Tliou  gavest  me 
no  kiss:  but  this  woman,  since  the  time  I  came 
in,  hath  not  cea.sedto  kiss  my  feet.  Mine  head 
with  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint:  but  tiiis  woman 
hath  anointed  my  feet  with  ointment.  Where- 
fore I  say  unto  thee,  her  sins  which  arc  many 
are  forgiven:  for  slie  loved  niucii:  but  to  whom 
little  is  given,  the  same  loveth  little."  Tliis  is 
our  third  part. 

These  words  have  occasioned  a  famous  ques- 
tion. It  has  been  asked  whether  the  pardon 
granted  by  Jesus  Christ  to  this  woman  were 
an  effect  of  her  love  to  Jesus  Christ:  or  whether 
her  love  to  Jesus  Christ  were  an  effect  of  the 
pardon  she  had  received  from  him.  The  ex- 
pressions, and  the  emblems  made  use  of  in  the 
text,  seem  to  countenance  both  these  opinions. 
The  parable  proposed  by  our  Saviour  favour» 
the  latter  opinion,  that  is,  that  the  woman's 
love  to  Jesus  Christ  was  an  effect  of  the  par- 
don that  slie  had  received.  "  A  certain  creditor 
had  two  debtors,  when  they  had  nothing  to 
pay,  he  frankly  forgave  the  one  five  hundred 
pence,  and  the  otlier  fifty.  Which  of  tiiem 
will  love  him  most.'"  The  answer  is,  "  He,  I 
suppose,  to  whom  he  forgave  most."  Who  does 
not  see,  that  the  love  of  this  debtor  is  an  effect 
of  the  acquittance  from  the  debt'  And  as  this 
acquittance  here  represents  tlie  pardon  of  sin, 
who  does  not  see  that  the  love  of  this  woman, 
and  of  all  others  in  her  condition,  is  liere  stated 
as  the  effect  of  this  pardon?  But  the  apjilica- 
tion  whicii  Jesus  Christ  makes  of  this  parable, 
seems  to  favour  the  opposite  opinion,  that  is, 
that  the  love  here  spoken  of  was  the  cause  and 
not  tiie  effect  of  pardon.  "  Seest  thou  this  wo- 
man?" said  Jesus  Christ  to  Simon,  "  I  entered 
into  thine  house,  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for 
my  feet:  but  she  hath  washed  my  feet  with 
tears,  and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her 
head.  Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss;  but  this  wo- 
man, since  tiio  time  I  came  in,  liatii  not  ceased 
to  kiss  my  feet.  Mine  head  with  oil  thou  didst 
not  anoint:  but  this  woman  hath  anointed  my 
feet  with  ointment.  Wherefore  I  say  unto 
thee,  her  sins  which  are  many  are  forgiven; 
for  she  loved  much."  Does  it  not  seem,  that 
the  application  of  this  parable  proposes  the  par- 
don of  the  sins  of  tiiis  penitent,  as  being  both 
the  cause  and  the  effect  of  her  love? 

This  question  certainly  deserves  elucidation, 
because  it  regards  words  proceeding  from  tiio 
mouth  of  Jesus  Ciirist  himself,  and  on  that  ac- 
count worthy  of  being  studied  with  the  utmost 
care:  but  is  the  question  as  important  as  some 
have  pretended?  You  may  fuid  some  interpre- 
ters ready  to  excommunicate  one  another  on 
account  of  this  question,  and  to  accuse  their 
antagonists  of  subverting  all  the  foundations  of 
true  religion.  There  have  been  times  (and 
may  such  times  never  return)  I  say,  there  were 
times,  in  which  people  thought  they  distin- 


SïR.  LVIIl.] 


THE  UNCHASTE  WOMAN. 


49 


guished  their  zeal  by  taking  as  much  pains  to 
envenom  controversies,  as  they  oujrht  to  have 
tai^en  to  concihatc  them;  and  wiien  tiiey  ouijht 
to  serve  true  rehgion  by  aj^gravating  the  errors 
of  opposite    rchgions.      On   these    principles, 
such  as  took  the  words  of  the  text  in  the  first 
sense  taxed  the  other  side  with  subverting  the 
whole  doctrine  of  free  justification;  for,  said 
they,  if  the  pardon  here  granted  to  the  sinner 
be  an  effect  of  her  love  to  Jesus  Christ,  what 
become  of  all  the  passages  of  Scripture,  wliicli 
say,  that  grace,  and  grace  alone,  obtains  the 
remission  of  sin?     They  of  the  opposite  senti- 
ment accused  the  others  with  subverting  ail 
the  grounds  of  morality;  for,  said  they,  if  tliis 
woman's  love  to  Jesus  C'iirist  be  only  an  effect 
of  pardon,  it  clearly  follows,  that  she  had  been 
pardoned  before  she  exercised  love:  but  if  this 
be  the  case,  what  become  of  all  the  passages  of 
the  gospel,  which  make  loving  God  a  part  of 
the  essence  of  that  faith  witliout  which  there 
is  no  forgiveness?     Do  you  not  see,  my  breth- 
ren, in  this  way  of  disputing,  that  unhappy 
spirit  of  party,  which  defends  the  truth  with 
the   arms   of   falsehood;    the   spirit   that   has 
caused  so  many  ravages  in  the  church,  and 
which  is  one  of  the  strongest  objections  that 
the  enemy  of  mankind  can  oppose  against  a 
reunion  of  religious  sentiments,  so  much  desired 
by  all  good  men?     What  then,  may  it  not  be 
affirmed  in  a  very  sound  sense,  that  we  love 
God  before  we  obtain  the  pardon  of  our  sins? 
Have  we  not  declaimed  against  the  doctrine  of 
such  divines  as  have  advanced  that  attrition 
alone,  that  is  to  say,  a  fear  of  hell  without  any 
degree  of  love  to  God  was  sufficient  to  open 
the  gates  of  heaven  to  a  penitent?     Recourse 
to  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  such  a  recourse  as 
makes  the  essence  of  faith,  ought  it  to  have  no 
other  motive  than  that  of  desiring  to  enjoy  the 
benefits  of  his  sacrifice?     Should  it  not  be  ani- 
mated with  love  to  his  perfections?    But  on  the 
othei*  hand,  may  it  not  also  be  said,  in  a  sense 
most  pure,  and  most  evangelically  accurate, 
that  true  love  to  God  is  an  effect  of  the  pardon 
we  obtain  of  him?     This  love  is  never  more 
ardent,  than  when  it  is  kindled  at  the  flame 
of  that  which  is  testified  in  our  absolution.     Is 
our  zeal  for  the  service  of  God  ever  more  fer- 
vent than  when  it  is  produced  by  a  felt  recon- 
ciliation to  him?     Are  the  praises  we  sing  to 
his  glory  ever  more  pure,  than  when  they  rise 
out  of  such  motives  as  animate  glorified  saints, 
when  we  can  say  with  them,  "  unto  him  tliat 
loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his 
own  blood,  be  glory,  and  dominioa'"  Rev.  i. 
5.     Do  different  views  of  this  text  deserve  so 
much  wormwood  and  gall? 

But  what  is  the  opinion  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  and  what  would  he  answer  to  the 
question  proposed?  Was  the  pardon  granted 
to  the  sirmer  the  cause  of  her  love,  or  the  effect 
of  it?  Which  of  the  two  ideas  ought  to  pre- 
vail in  our  minds,  that  in  the  parable,  or  that 
in  the  ai)plication  of  iL'  The  opinion  most 
gonenilly  received  in  our  churches  is,  that  tlie 
love  of  this  woman  ought  to  be  considered  as 
the  effect  of  her  pardon,  and  this  appears  to  us 
the  most  likely,  and  supported  by  llie  best  evi- 
dence: for  the  reason  on  which  this  opinion 
is  grounded,  seems  to  us  unanswerable.  There 
is  neither  a  critical  remark,  nor  a  change  of 
Vol..  II.— 7 


version,  that  can  elude  the  force  and  evidence 
of  it:  "  a  creditor  had  two  debtors,  he  forgave 
the  one  five  hundred  pence,  and  the  other  fifty, 
the  first  will  love  him  most."  Undoubtedly 
this  love  is  the  effect,  and  not  the  cause  of  the 
acipiitlance  of  the  debt.  On  the  contrary,  the 
reason  on  which  the  second  o[)inion  is  founded 
may  be  easily  answered.  It  is  grounded  on: 
this  expression,  "  Mer  sins  are  forgiven,  for  she 
lr)vcd  much."  The  original  reading  is  capable 
of  another  sense.  Instead  of  translating  "for 
she  loved  much,"  the  words  may  be  rendered 
without  any  violence  to  the  Greek  text,  "her 
sins  arc  forgiven,  and  because  of  that,"  or  "  on 
a(;count  of  that  she  loved  much."  There  are 
many  examples  of  the  original  term  being  taken 
in  this  sense.  We  omit  quotations  and  proofs 
only  to  avoid  prolixity. 

We  must  then  suppose,  that  the  tears  now 
shed  by  this  woman  were  not  the  first,  which 
she  had  shed  at  the  remembrance  of  her  sins. 
She  had  already  perfornied  several  penitential 
exerci.scs  under  a  sense  of  forgiveness,  and  the 
repetition  of  these  exercises  proceeded  both 
from  a  sense  of  gratitude  for  the  sentence  pro- 
nounced in  her  favour,  and  from  a  desire  of 
receiving  a  ratification  of  it.  On  this  account 
we  have  not  assigned  the  fear  of  punisimient 
as  a  cause  of  the  grief  of  this  penitent,  as  we 
ought  to  have  done  liad  we  supposed  that  she 
had  not  already  obtained  forgiveness.  Our 
supposition  su[)ported  by  our  comment  on  the 
words  of  the  text,  in  my  opinion,  throw  great 
light  on  the  whole  passage.  The  Pharisee  is 
offended  because  Jesus  Christ  sutfered  a  wo- 
man of  bad  character  to  give  him  so  many 
tokens  of  her  esteem.  Jesus  Christ  makes  at 
the  same  time  an  apology  both  for  himself 
and  for  the  penitent,  lie  tells  the  Pharisee, 
that  the  great  esteem  of  this  woman  proceeds 
from  a  sense  of  the  great  favours,  which  she 
had  received  from  him:  that  the  Pharisee 
thought  he  had  given  sufficient  proof  of  his 
regard  for  Jesus  Clirist  by  receiving  him  into 
his  house,  without  any  extraordinary  demon- 
strations of  zeal,  witliout  giving  him  "  water 
to  wash  his  feet,  oil  to  anoint  his  head,"  or 
"a  kiss"  in  token  of  friendship;  and  that  what 
prevented  him  from  giving  greater  marks  of 
esteem  was  his  considering  himself  in  tlie  con- 
dition of  the  first  debtor,  of  whom  only  a  little 
gratitude  was  required,  because  he  had  been 
released  from  an  obligation  to  ])ay  only  a  small 
and  inconsiderable  sum:  but  that  this  woman 
considered  herself  in  the  condition  of  the  other 
debtor,  who  had  been  forgiven  "  five  hundred 
pence;"  and  that  therefore  she  thought  herself 
obliged  to  give  her  creditor  the  highest  marks 
of  esteem.  "  Seest  thou  this  woman?  I  entered 
into  thine  house,  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for 
my  feet:  but  she  hath  washed  my  feet  with 
tears,  and  wiped  tliciii  with  tiic  hairs  of  her 
head.  Thon  gavest  me  no  kiss:  but  she  hath 
not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet.  My  head  with  oil 
thou  didst  not  anoint:  but  she  hath  anointed 
my  feet  with  ointment.  Wherefore  I  say  unto 
thee,  her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven." 
On  this  account  she  hath  loved  much;  and  has 
giviMi  me  all  these  proofs  of  affection  which 
arc  so  far  superior  to  tliose,  which  I  have  re- 
ceived at  your  table,  "  for  he,  to  whom  little  ia 
forgiven,  loveth  little." 


50 


THE  REPENTANCE  OF 


[Ser.  LVIII. 


At  len^h,  Jesus  Christ  turns  himself  towards 
the  penitent,  and,  affected  at  her  weeping 
afresh,  repeats  his  assurances  of  forgiveness, 
and  appeases  that  sorrow,  which  the  remem- 
brance of  her  crimes  excited  in  lier  heart, 
though  she  no  longer  dreaded  punishment. 
"  Go,"  says  he,  "  thy  sins  arc  forgiven  tliee.  .  . 
Go  in  peace." 

Ye  rigid  casuists,  who  render  the  path  of 
life  strait,  and  difficult,  ye,  whose  terrifying 
maxims  are  planted  like  briars  and  thorns  in 
the  road  of  paradise;  ye  messengers  of  terror 
and  vengeance,  like  the  dreadful  angels  who 
with  flaming  swords  kept  guilty  men  from  at- 
tcm|iting  to  return  to  the  garden  of  Eden; 
ye  who  deiii>uiice  only  hell  and  danuiation; 
come  hither  and  receive  instruction.  Come 
and  learii  how  to  preach,  and  how  to  write, 
and  how  to  speak  in  your  pulpits  to  your  audi- 
tors, and  how  to  comfort  on  a  dying  bed  a 
man,  whose  soul  hovers  on  his  lips,  and  is  just 
departing.  See  the  Saviour  of  tlie  world;  be- 
hold with  what  ease  and  indulgence  he  receives 
this  penitent.  Scarcely  had  she  begun  to  weep, 
scarcely  had  she  touched  the  feet  of  Jesus 
Christ  with  a  little  ointment,  but  he  crowned 
her  repentance,  became  her  apologist,  pardoned 
during  one  moment  of  repentance  the  excesses 
of  a  whole  life,  and  condescended  to  acknow- 
ledge for  a  member  of  "  a  glorious  church,  not 
having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing," 
this  woman,  and  what  kind  of  a  woman.'  A 
woman  guilty  perhaps  of  jirostitution,  perhaps 
of  adultery,  certainly  of  impurity  and  fornica- 
tion. Aller  this  do  you  violently  declaim 
against  conversion,  under  pretence  that  it  is 
not  effected  precisely  at  such  lime  as  you  think 
fit  to  appoint.'  Do  you  yet  refuse  to  publish 
pardon  and  forgiveness  to  that  sinner,  who  in- 
deed has  spent  his  whole  life  in  sin,  but  who  a 
few  moments  before  he  expires  puts  on  all  the 
appearance  of  true  rc])entance,  covers  himself 
with  sorrow,  and  dissolves  himself  in  tears, 
like  tlio  penitent  in  the  text,  and  a.ssures  you 
that  he  embraces  with  the  utmost  fervour  the 
feet  of  the  Redeemer  of  mankind.' 

Do  1  deceive  myself,  my  brethren.'  I  think 
I  see  the  audience  quicken  their  attention. 
This  last  reflection  seems  to  suit  the  taste  of 
most  of  my  hearers.  I  think,  I  perceive  some 
roacliing  the  right  iiand  of  fellowship  to  me, 
and  congratulating  me  for  publicly  adjuring 
this  day  of  gloomy  and  melancholy  morality, 
more  likely  to  drive  sinners  to  despair  than  to 
reclaim  tlicm. 

How,  my  brethren,  have  we  preached  to 
you  so  many  years,  and  you  aft.er  all  so  little 
acquainted  witli  us  as  to  imagine  that  we  have 
]»ropo.sed  this  reflection  with  any  other  design 
than  tliat  of  showing  you  the  folly  of  it,'  Or 
rather  are  you  so  little  acquainted  with  your 
religion,  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  in  gene- 
ral, and  with  that  of  my  text  in  particular,  as 
to  derive  consequences  diametrically  opposite 
to  the  design  of  the  inspired  writers.'  And 
where,  pray,  are  these  barbarous  men.'  Where 
are  these  messengers  of  vengeance  and  terror.' 
Where  arc  the  casuists,  whose  maxims  render 
the  road  to  eloriial  life  inaccessible.  Who  are 
tlie  men,  who  tiiiis  excite  yiir  anger  and  in- 
dignation? What!  Is  it  the  man,  who  has  si)cnt 
fifty  ur  sixty  years  in  exaiaining  the  human 


heart;  the  man,  who  assures  you,  that,  after  a 
thousand  diligent  and  accurate  investigations, 
he  finds  impenetrable  depths  of  deception  in  the 
heart;  the  man,  who,  from  the  difl'icully  of  his 
own  examinations  derives  arguments  to  engage 
you  not  to  be  satisfied  with  a  superficial  know- 
ledge of  your  conscience,  but  to  carry  the  light 
of  the  gospel  into  the  darkest  recessses  of  your 
heart;  the  man,  who  advises  you  over  and  over 
again,  that  if  you  content  yourselves  with  a 
slight  knowledge  of  yourselves,  you  must  be 
subjei^t  to  ten  thousand  illusions,  that  you  will 
take  the  semblance  of  repent;ince  for  repentance 
itself,  that  you  will  think  yourselves  "rich 
and  increased  with  goods,"  while  you  are 
"  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind, 
and  naked,"  Rev.  iii.  1".  Is  this  the  rigid 
casuist,  who  offends  and  irritates  you? 

Perhajts,  it  is  the  man,  who  tells  you  that, 
in  order  to  assure  yourselves  that  you  are  in  a 
state  of  grace,  you  must  love  God  with  an  es- 
teem of  preference,  which  will  engage  you  to 
obey  him  before  all  his  creatures;  the  man, 
who,  judging  by  innumerable  evidences  that 
you  prefer  "  serving  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator,"  Rom.  i.  25;  concludes  from  this 
sad  phenomenon  that  you  have  reason  to 
tremble:  the  man,  who  advises  you  to  spend 
at  least  one  week  in  recollection  and  retirement 
before  you  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper;  the 
man,  who  would  have  you  purify  your  hands 
from  the  blood  of  your  brethren,  and  your 
heart  burning  with  hatred  and  vengeance,  and 
on  that  account  jdaced  in  a  catalogue  of  wiwr- 
dercrs''  hearts,  according  to  the  spirit  of  the 
gospel:  the  man,  who  forbids  yon  to  come  to 
the  Lord's  Supper  while  your  wicked  courses 
are  only  suspended  instead  of  being  reformed, 
and  while  your  cruel  exactions  are  only  delay- 
ed instead  of  being  entirely  left  ofl'?  Perhaps 
tliis  is  the  man!  Is  tiiis  the  rigid  casuist,  who' 
offends  and  irritates  you? 

Or,  probably,  it  is  the  man,  who  has  attend- 
ed you  three,  four,  or  half  a  dozen  times  in  fits 
of  sickness,  who  then  saw  you  covered  with 
tears,  every  time  acknowledging  your  sins,  and 
always  calling  heaven  and  earth  to  witness 
your  sincere  intention  to  reform,  and  to  change 
your  conduct,  but  who  has  always  seen  you 
immediately  on  your  recovery  return  to  your 
former  course  of  life,  as  if  you  had  never  shed 
a  tear,  never  put  up  a  prayer,  never  made  a 
resolution,  never  appealed  to  heaven  to  attest 
your  sincerity:  the  man,  who  concludes  from 
such  sad  events  as  these  that  the  resolutions  of 
sick  and  dying  people  ought  always  to  be  con- 
sidered as  extremely  suspicious;  tiie  man,  who 
tells  you  that  during  all  his  long  and  constant 
attendance  on  tiie  sick  he  has  seldom  seen  one 
converted  on  a  sick-bed,  (for  our  parts,  my 
brethren,  we  are  mournful  guarantees  of  this 
awful  fact,)  the  man  alarmed  at  tiiese  frightful 
examples,  and  slow  to  publish  tlie  grace  of  (  Jod 
to  dying  people  of  a  certain  class;  I  say,  pro- 
bably, this  is  the  man,  whooflends  you!  Is  not 
this  the  cruel  casuist,  who  provokes  you? 

What!  Is  it  the  man,  who  sees  the  sentence 
of  death  written  in  your  face,  and  your  house 
of  clay  just  going  to  sink,  to  whom  you  appear 
more  like  a  skeleton  than  a  living  body,  and 
who  fears  every  morning  lest  some  messenger 
should  inform  him  that  you  was  found  dead  in 


See.  LVIII.] 


THE  UNCHASTE  WOMAN. 


51 


your  bed,  who  feare  all  this  from  your  own 
complaints?  What  am  I  sayin<f?  From  your 
own  complexion,  from  the  alarms  of  your 
friends,  and  from  the  terrors  of  your  own  fa- 
mily; the  man,  who  is  shocked  to  sec  that  all 
this  inak«;s  no  impression  upon  you,  hut  that 
you  live  a  life  of  dissipation  and  security,  whicli 
would  he  unpardonahle  in  a  man,  whose  firm 
health  might  seem  to  promise  him  a  long  life; 
the  man,  who  cries  to  you,  "  awake  thou  that 
sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ 
sliall  ffive  thee  light,"  Eph.  i.  11;  improve  the 
remainder  of  life,  the  hreatli,  which,  thougli  it 
leaves  thee  to  totter,  prevents  thy  falling  down 
dead.  Is  this  the  man,  the  rigid  casuist  who 
offends  and  irritates  you?  Such  maxims,  such 
discourses,  such  hooks,  such  sermons,  are  they 
systems  of  morality,  which  confound  you,  and 
drive  you  to  despair? 

After  all,  where  are  the  sinners  whom  these 
casuists  have  driven  to  despair?  Where  are 
those  tormented  and  distracted  consciences? 
For  my  part,  I  see  nolhing,  turn  my  eyes  which 
way  I  will,  but  a  deep  sleep.  1  see  nothing 
but  security,  lethargy,  insensibility.  How  is 
it  possil)le  that  the  history  of  our  text,  that  the 
language  of  Jesus  Christ,  "  Woman,  thy  faith 
hath  saved  thee,  go  in  peace,"  that  the  voice 
of  eternal  truth  sliould  incline  you  to  raise 
objections  full  of  error  and  illusion?  Is  there 
no  difference  between  your  case  and  that  of 
this  penitent  woman,  none  between  Jesus  Christ 
and  your  casuists?  Is  there  anything  in  which 
they  agree?  The  casuist  conversing  with  this 
penitent  was  a  prophet,  a  prophet!  he  was  a 
God,  who  "searched  the  reins  and  the  hearts," 
who  saw  the  bottom  of  her  soul,  and  who 
penetrated  through  all  tlie  veils,  with  which  a 
frail  human  heart  is  covered,  and  beheld  the 
truth  of  her  conversion  and  the  genuineness  of 
her  grief:  but  you,  my  brethren,  you  have  no 
such  casuists,  and  we  can  judge  only  by  exter- 
nal performances,  which  ascertain  your  state 
only  on  condition  that  they  proceed  from  your 
heart.  Our  penitent  lay  prostrate  at  the  feet 
of  the  Lord  of  religion,  who  could  save  her, 
if  he  pleased,  by  extraordinary  means,  and  who 
could  deliver  her  from  death  and  hell  by  a 
singular  effort  of  power,  not  to  be  repeated: 
but  your  casuists  are  servants,  who  act  by  com- 
mission, under  express  directions  and  orders, 
and  who  have  no  right  to  announce  peace  till 
you  answer  the  description  given  in  the  royal 
instrument.  Such  ministers,  whatever  assu- 
rances of  grace  and  pardon  they  affect  to  give, 
ought  never  to  calm  your  consciences  till  you 
have  exactly  conformed  to  the  orders  of  their 
and  your  sovereign  master.  Our  penitent  came 
t.o  ask  pardon  in  a  free  and  voluntary  manner, 
while  she  was  in  perfect  health,  all  her  actions 
were  unconstrained  and  spontaneous;  but  you 
wait  till  death  hales  you  to  the  tribunal  of  God, 
you  loiter  till  the  fear  of  eternal  flames  fright 
you  away  from  such  pleasures  as  you  continue 
to  love,  and  to  which  you  would  most  likely 
return  again,  did  not  God  spare  you  the  shame 
by  not  giving  you  an  opportunity.  The  peni- 
tent of  our  text  did  all  she  could  in  her  circum- 
stances to  express  the  truth  of  her  repentance, 
there  was  no  sacrifice  so  dear  that  she  did  not 
offer,  no  victim  so  valuable  that  she  did  not 
stab,  if  I  may  use  such  an  expression,  with  the 


knife  of  repentance,  no  passion  so  inveterate 
that  she  did  not  eradicate,  no  marks  of  love 
for  her  Saviour  so  tender  that  she  did  not  with 
all  liberality  express.  Behold  her  eyes  flowing 
with  tears  over  tlie  feet  of  Jesus  Christ,  behold 
her  hair  dishevelled,  her  j)erfujnes  poured  out, 
behold  all  the  character  of  sincerity,  which  we 
liave  observed  in  our  first  paper.  Is  there  any 
one  mark  of  a  true  conversion  which  she  does 
bear?  But  you,  how  many  reserves,  how  many 
artifices  have  you?  How  many  actions  of  your 
lives,  which  we  must  not  be  allowed  to  state 
to  you  in  their  true  point  of  light*  Ihjw  many 
tempers  in  your  hearts,  which  must  not  yet  be 
touched?  Here,  it  is  an  enemy,  the  bare  sound 
of  whose  name  would  increase  your  fever,  and 
hasten  your  death.  There,  it  is  an  iniquitous 
acquisition,  which  you  reserve  for  your  son  to 
enable  him  to  take  your  name  with  greater 
honour,  and  to  support  with  more  dignity  that 
vain  parade,  or  rather  that  dust  and  smoke  in 
which  you  have  all  your  life  involved  yourself 
Our  penitent  never  deceived  Jesus  Christ:  but 
you,  you  have  deceived  your  casuist  a  thousand 
and  a  thousand  times.  Our  penitent  wept  over 
the  odious  parts  of  her  life,  and,  far  from  being 
too  proud  to  confess  her  sins,  gloried  in  her 
confession  while  she  blushed  for  her  crimes: 
but  your  eyes,  on  the  contrary,  your  eyes  are 
yet  dry,  and  it  is  Jesus  Christ,  wiio  is  weeping 
at  your  fee\,  it  is  he  who  is  shedding  tears  over 
you,  as  fonnerly  over  Jerusalem,  it  is  he  who 
is  saying,  O  that  "  thou  liadst  known,  even 
thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which 
belong  unto  thy  peace!  0  that  tiiy  people 
had  hearkened  unto  me,  and  Israel  had  walked 
in  my  ways!"  Luke  xix.  42;  Ps.  Ixxxi.  13.  It 
is  not  then  to  you,  but  it  is  to  your  kind  of  re- 
pentance, that  sentences  of  absolution  ought  to 
be  refused.  The  repentance  of  the  unchaste 
woman  was  exactly  conformable  to  the  cove- 
nant of  arrace,  to  the  genius  of  the  gospel,  and 
to  the  end  of  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ.  Hence 
from  the  moutli  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world 
proceeded,  in  spite  of  her  former  libertinism,  in 
spite  of  the  cruel  censure  of  the  Pharisee,  and 
in  spite  of  the  murmuring  of  the  guests,  these 
comfortable  words,  "  Woman,  thy  sins  are  for- 
given thee.  Woman,  thy  faith  hath  saved  thee. 
Go,  depart  in  peace." 

Here,  my  brethren,  the  evangelist  finishes 
the  history  of  the  penitent  woman!  and  here 
we  will  finish  this  discourse.  There  is,  how- 
ever, one  circumstance,  which  St.  Luke  has 
omitted,  and  which,  if  I  may  venture  to  say 
so,  I  wish  he  had  recorded  in  the  most  severe 
and  circumstantial  manner.  What  were  the 
future  sentiments  of  this  woman  after  the  cou- 
rageous steps  she  had  taken  at  her  setting  out' 
What  emotions  did  absolution  produce  in  her 
soul?  What  eftects  in  her  conscience  did  this 
language  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world  cause, 
"  Woman,  thy  sins  are  forgiven — thy  faith  hath 
saved  thee — go  in  peace?"  But  there  is  nothing 
in  this  silence  that  ought  to  surprise  us.  Her 
joy  was  not  a  circumstance  that  came  under 
the  notice  of  the  historian.  In  the  heart  of 
tliis  frail  woman,  converted  and  reconciled  to 
God,  lay  this  mystery  concealed.  There  was 
that  "  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing, that  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory, 
that  white  stone,  and  that  new  name,  which 


52 


THE  VANITY  OF  ATTEMPTING 


[Ser.  LIX. 


no  man  knoweth  saving  he  that  recciveth  it." 
May  you  receive  it,  my  brethren,  that  you 
may  know  it!  May  the  grief  of  a  lively  and 
bitter  repentance  wound  your  hearts,  that 
mercy  may  heal  and  comfort  them,  and  fill 
them  with  pleasure  and  joy!  God  grant  us 
this  grace!  To  him  be  honour  and  glory  for 
ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LIX. 


THE  VANITY  OF   ATTEMPTING  TO 
OPPOSE  GOD. 


Proverbs  xxi.  30. 
TTiere  is  no  wisdom,  nor  wider  standing,  nor 
counsel  against  the  Lord. 
How  mean  and  despicable  soever  the  human 
heart  since  the  fall  ma}'  be,  there  are  always 
found  in  it  some  princij)lcs  of  grandeur  and 
elevation.  Like  sucli  superb  edifices  as  time 
has  demolished,  it  discovers  even  in  its  ruins 
Bome  vestiges  of  its  primitive  splendour.  What- 
ever presents  itself  to  man  under  the  idea  of 
great  and  noble,  strikes  and  dazzles  him: 
whatever  presents  itself  to  him  under  the  idea 
of  low  and  servile,  shocks  and  disgusts  him. 
Accordingly  one  of  the  most  formidable  me- 
thods of  attacking  religion  is  to  exliibit  it  as  a 
contrivance  fit  for  narrow  geniuses  and  mean 
Bouls.  One  of  the  most  pro])er  means  to  esta- 
blish irréligion  is  to  represent  it  as  suited  to 
great  and  generous  minds.  To  rise  above 
vulgar  ideas,  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  con- 
science, to  derive  felicity  and  glory  from  self, 
to  make  fortune,  victory.  Providence,  and  deity 
itself  yield  to  human  will,  these  are  pretensions, 
which  have,  I  know  not  what  in  them,  to  flat- 
ter that  foolish  pride,  which  an  erroneous  mind 
confounds  with  true  magnanimity.  We  propose 
to-day,  my  brethren,  to  combat  these  danger- 
ous prejudices,  to  dissipate  all  such  appearances 
of  grandeur  and  elevation,  and  to  make  you 
feel  the  extravagance  of  all  tliose,  who  have 
the  audacity  to  attempt  to  o|)pose  Almighty 
God.  The  Wise  Man  calls  us  to  tliis  medita- 
tion in  the  words  of  the  text.  "  There  is  no 
wisdom,  nor  understanding,  nor  counsel  against 
the  Lord." 

Perhaps  you  will  accuse  us  (and  we  will  en- 
ter on  the  subject  by  examining  this  objection,) 
perhaps  you  will  accuse  us  of  creating  phan- 
toms to  combat.  Perhaps  you  will  defy  us  to 
find  among  the  different  classes  of  idiots, 
whom  society  cherishes  in  its  bosom,  any  one 
who  has  carried  his  extravagance  so  far  as  to 
presume  to  oppose  God,  or  to  pretend  to  con- 
strain him  by  superior  knowledge  or  power. 

My  brethren,  one  of  the  most  difficult  sub- 
jects in  the  study  of  the  human  heart  is,  when 
a  man  leads  a  certain  course  of  life,  to  deter- 
mine wiiether  he  has  adopted  the  extravagant 
princi])lcs  on  which  his  conduct  is  founded, 
and  without  which  his  conduct  is  the  most  pal- 
pable folly.  Take  which  side  we  will,  whetlier 
that  he  acts  on  principles,  or  without  them,  the 
case  will  appear  extremely  difficult.  On  the 
one  hand,  we  can  hardly  persuade  ourselves 
that  an  intelligent  creature,  who  is  capable  of 


governing  a  state,  regulating  a  large  and  ex- 
tensive commerce,  and  of  arranging  a  variety 
of  systems,  should  entertain  notions  seemingly 
incompatible  with  the  very  least  degree  of  in- 
telligence. On  the  otlier  hand,  we  know  not 
how  to  compreiieiid,  that  a  course  of  action, 
which  is  tiic  natural  effect  of  such  notions,  can 
subsist  without  them. 

Follow  us  a  moment,  my  brethren,  into 
these  labyrinths  of  the  human  heart,  or  rather 
let  us  endeavour  to  know  ourselves,  and  to  re- 
concile ourselves  to  ourselves,  and  let  each  of 
us  put  a  few  questions  to  himself. 

I,  who  have  some  idea  of  the  perfections  of 
God,  and  who  cannot  doubt  whether  he  knows 
the  most  secret  thoughts  of  my  heart,  can  I 
promise  myself  to  impose  on  him  in  his  temple 
by  a  painted  outside,  by  a  grave  deportment, 
and  by  a  mournful  countenance,  while  my  un- 
derstanding and  my  affections  take  no  part  in 
religious  exercises,  while  my  ideas  are  con- 
fused, and  while  my  passions  promise  me  an 
immediate  indemnity  for  the  violence  I  have 
offered  them  during  the  few  moments  of  tliis 
seeming  devotion?  But,  if  I  have  not  this 
thought,  how  is  it  tlien  that  I  think  to  obtain 
the  favour  of  God  by  exercises  of  this  kind.' 

I,  who  was  educated  in  the  Christian  church, 
can  I  imagine  that  God  has  less  dominion  over 
me  when  the  air  is  calm,  the  heavens  serene, 
and  the  earth  firm  under  my  feet,  than  when 
the  clouds  arc  thick  and  black,  the  thunder 
rolls  in  the  air,  the  lightning  flashes,  and  the 
earth  seems  to  open  under  my  feet'  But,  if  I 
have  not  adopted  this  opinion,  how  comes  it  to 
pass  that  I  commit  the  greatest  crimes  without 
remorse  in  the  first  period,  and  in  the  second 
reproach  myself  for  the  most  pardonable  of  all 
my  frailties' 

I,  who  am  surrounded  with  the  dying  and 
the  dead;  I,  who  feel  myself  dying  every  day: 
I,  who  carry  death  in  my  face,  who  feel  it  in 
my  veins,  who,  when  1  lay  on  a  sick  bed  a  few 
months  ago,  and  thought  myself  come  to  tlie 
last  moment  of  life,  felt  the  most  violent  re- 
morse; I,  who  would  have  then  given  the 
whole  world,  had  the  whole  world  been  at  my 
dis])osal,  to  have  been  delivered  from  sin,  can 
I  persuade  myself  that  I  shall  live  herealways.» 
Can  I  even  persuade  myself  that  I  shall  live 
much  longer?  Or  if  I  could,  that  when  death 
shall  present  itself  to  me,  I  shall  be  exempt 
from  remorse,  and  that  the  crimes,  which  now 
make  the  pleasure  of  my  life,  will  not  be  the 
poison  of  my  dying  bed?  But,  if  I  be  incapa- 
ble of  adopting  opinions  so  opposite  to  what  I 
know  by  feeling  and  experience,  what  am  I  do- 
in"?  How  is  it  possible  for  me  to  live  as  if  I 
thought  myself  immortal,  as  if  1  had  made  a 
eovenanl  icitli  death  and  were  at  agreement  with 
the  grave,  as  if  I  had  stifled  for  ever  the  feel- 
ings of  my  conscience,  as  if  I  were  sure  of  dic- 
tating myself  the  decree  of  divine  justice  con- 
cerning my  own  eternal  state? 

And,  not  to  multiply  examples,  of  which 
the  extravagance  of  the  human  mind  would 
furnish  a  great  number,  1,  whose  views  are  so 
short,  whose  knowledge  is  so  confined,  whose 
faculties  are  so  frail,  and  whoso  power  is  so 
limited,  can  I  promise  myself  success  in  op- 
posing the  designs  of  that  God,  who  says  in 
his  word,  *'  My  counsel  shall  stand,  and  I  will 


Ser.  LIX.] 


TO  OPPOSE  GOD. 


53 


do  all  my  pleasure?"  Isa.  xlvi.  10.  Can  I  pro- 
mise myself  to  subdue  a  God  "great  in  coun- 
sel, and  mighty  in  work,"  Jer.  xxxii.  19,  and 
to  constrain  liini  by  superior  power?  But,  if  I 
have  not  adopted  sucli  extravagant  thoughts, 
what  mean  tlic  obstacles  whicii  I  oppose  against 
his  will?  What  signify  my  plans  of  felicity, 
which  are  diametrically  opposite  to  those  which 
he  has  traced  for  nie  in  his  word?  Why  do  1 
not  direct  all  my  intentions  and  actions  to  in- 
corporate in  my  interest  liiin,  whose  will  is  ])ro- 
duclive  and  etKcient'  Why  do  1  not  found  my 
system  of  living  on  this  principle  of  tlie  Wise 
Man,  "There  is  no  wisdom,  nor  understand- 
ing, nor  counsel  against  the  Jjord." 

My  brethren,  explain  to  us  these  enigmas, 
discover  yourselves  to  yourselves,  and  recon- 
cile yourselves  with  yourselves.  O  miserable 
man!  What  kind  of  madness  animates  thee? 
Is  it  that  of  having  conceived  tliese  extrava- 
gant thoughts,  which  are  alone  ca])ablc  of  var- 
nishing over  thy  conducL'  Or  is  it  that  of  act- 
ing without  thought,  whicli  is  a  sort  of  raving 
madness,  for  even  erroneous  opinions  might 
seem  to  thee  to  apologize  for  thine  actions?  O 
"  heart  of  man,  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked,  who  can  know  thee!"  Jer. 
xvii.  9. 

However,  the  knowledge  of  this  heart  so 
difficult  to  be  known,  is  not  entirely  unattain- 
able, it  is  even  essential  to  our  happiness. 
How  should  we  correct  ourselves  without 
knowing  ourselves?  How  should  we  acquire 
real  wisdom  without  knowing  precisely  what 
our  folly  is,  and  by  what  means  to  get  rid  of  it' 
It  should  seem  we  ought  to  search  for  a  so- 
lution of  these  difficulties  in  the  artifices  of  our 
own  passions.  The  passions  not  only  disguise 
exterior  objects,  but  they  disguise  even  our 
own  thoughts,  they  persuade  us  that  we  do  not 
think  what  we  do  think,  and  in  this  manner 
they  confirm  us  in  the  most  extravagant  no- 
tions, the  absurdity  of  wliich  we  could  not 
help  seeing  were  we  dispassionate  and  cool. 
The  work  therefore  to  wliich  we  ought  most 
seriously  to  apply  ourselves,  is  to  take  otf  such 
coverings  as  our  passions  throw  over  our  opin- 
ions, and  which  prevent  our  seeing  that  we 
think  as  we  do;  to  this  important  work  I  shall 
address  myself  in  the  remaining  part  of  this 
discourse. 

A  modern  philosopher  has  founded  on  this 
principle  the  whole  of  his  system  on  the  dif- 
ference between  right  and  wrong.  He  says, 
justice  consists  in  affirming  that  a  thing  is  what 
it  is,  and  injustice  in  denying  it.  He  explains 
this  thought  by  another,  that  is,  that  we  affirm 
and  deny  not  only  by  words,  but  also  by  ac- 
tions, and  that  the  second  manner  of  affirming 
or  denying  is  more  express  and  decisive  than 
the  first.  I  will  not  examine  whether  this  phi- 
losopher has  not  carried  liis  principles  too  far: 
but  I  am  going  to  prove  by  tlie  actions  of  men 
that  they  pretend  to  oppose  God,  and  that  they 
set  four  obstacles  against  his  will,  their  gran- 
deur, their  policy,  their  pleasures,  and  their 
stoical  obstinacy.  I  am  going  to  prove  at  the 
same  time  to  worldly  politicians  and  grandees, 
to  voluptuous  and  stoical  people,  that  to  un- 
dertake to  resist  God  is  the  heiglit  of  extrava- 
gance. "  There  is  no  wisdom  nor  understand- 
ing, nor  counsel  against  the  Lord." 


I.  Wo  will  consider  our  text  in  regard  to 
worldly  grandeur.  We  sometimes  see  those, 
who  are  called  grandees  in  tlie  world,  resist 
God,  pretend  to  compel  him  iiy  superior  force, 
or  by  greater  knowledge.  And  whom  do  we 
intend  to  characterize?  Is  it  a  Pharaoh,  who 
boldly  demands,  "  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I 
sh(Mil(l  obey  his  voice?"  Is  it  a  Sennacherib, 
who  uttered  this  insolent  language,  "  Beware 
lest  lle/ekiah  persuade  you,  .saying,  the  Lord 
will  deliver  us.  Hath  any  of  the  gods  of  the 
nations  delivered  his  land  out  of  the  hand  of 
the  king  of  Assyria?  Where  are  the  gods  of 
Haniath  and  Arphad?  Where  are  the  gcjils  of 
.Sepharvaiin?  Who  are  they  amongst  all  the 
gods  of  lho.se  lands,  that  have  delivered  thtrir 
land  out  of  my  hand,  that  the  Lord  should  de- 
liver .lern.saleni  out  of  my  hand?"  Is  it  a  Ne- 
bucliadnez/.ar,  to  whom  the  prophet  puts  this 
niortityi'ig  (piestioii,  "How  art  thou  fiillcn 
from  heaven,  thou  day  star,  thou  son  of  the 
morning?  Thou  who  didst  weaken  the  nations, 
hast  said  in  thine  heart,  I  will  ascend  into  hea- 
ven, I  will  exalt  my  throne  above  tlie  stars  of 
God,  I  will  sit  also  upon  the  mount  of  the 
congregation  in  the  sides  of  the  north,  I  will 
be  like  the  Most  High,"  Isa.  xxxvi.  IS.  20. 
and  chap.  xiv.  \2 — 14. 

Is  it  a  Nero,  who  could  hear  without  trem- 
bling those  blaspiiemous  eulogies,  "  If  the  fates 
had  no  other  methods  of  placing  Nero  on  the 
throne  than  those  civil  wars,  which  deluged 
Rome  with  blood,  ye  gods,  we  are  content;  the 
most  atrocious  crimes,  the  most  sanguinary  ex- 
ecutions are  agreeable  at  this  price.  Lift  up 
your  eyes,  Cesar,  and  choose  your  place  among 
the  immortal  gods,  take  the  thunder  of  Jupi- 
ter, and  succeed  the  father  of  gods  and  men. 
Mount  the  chariot  of  the  sun,  and  give  the 
world  light,  all  the  gods  will  count  it  felicity 
and  glory  to  submit  to  thy  laws,  and  to  give 
up  their  place  and  their  power  to  thee." 

But  nature   produces   few   such    monsters. 
Our  age  has  too  nnich  knowledge,  and   our 
manners  are  too  refined  to  suffer  such  plain 
and  open  declarations.     Yet  how  often  is  gran- 
deur even  now  in  our  times  a  patent  for  inso- 
lence against  God!    What,  for  example,  is  that 
perpetual  parade  of  the  great,  and  that  vain 
ostentation,  with  which  they  dazzle  the  eyes 
of  their  dependants,  and  of  which  they  avail 
themselves  to  rob  God  of  the  hearts  of  men? 
What  is  that  haughty  confidence,  whicii  they 
place  in  their  forces,  after  they  have  guarded 
tlieir  cities,  built  forts,  and  filled  their  treasu- 
ries, they  live  in  security,  even  though  they 
have  provoked  God  by  acts  of  the  most  crying 
injustice,  by  the   most  barbarous  executions, 
and    by    the    most     execrable     blasphemies! 
Whence   that  immoderate  avidity  of  praise, 
which  makes  them  nourish  themselves  with 
the  incense  of  a  vile  flatterer,  and  live  on  the 
titles   of   immortals,    invincibles,   arbiters    of 
peace  and  war?    Whence  that  contempt  of  re- 
ligion, and  that  spirit  of  impiety  and  profane- 
ness,  whicii  usually  reigns  in  the  hearts  of 
princes?    Whence  that  dominion  which  some 
of  them  exercise  over  conscience,  and  those 
laws,  which  they  dare  to  give  mankind  to  serve 
God   against   their  own  convictions,  to  form 
ideas  of  him,  which  they  think  injurious  to  his 
majesty,  to  perform  a  worship,  which  they 


54 


THE  VANITY  OF  ATTEMPTING 


[Ser.  LIX. 


think  contrary  to  his  express  commands,  and 
to  profess  a  religion  directly  opposite  to  what 
they  themselves  believe  to  be  the  true  religion 
of  Jesus  ClirisL'  Whence  are  all  tliese  disposi- 
tions, and  what  are  all  these  actions?  My  bre- 
thren, open  the  folds  of  the  human  heart,  take 
off  the  coverings  under  which  tlie  turpitude  is 
concealed,  penetrate  into  the  ])rincii)les  of 
men's  actions,  and  you  will  find  that  to  oppose 
God,  to  pretend  to  control  him  by  a  superior 
power  is  not  a  disposition  of  mind  so  rare  as 
you  might  at  first  sight  have  imagined.  You 
see  the  great  worldling  makes  his  opulence, 
his  titles,  his  grandeur,  his  navy,  his  army,  a 
force  to  set  against  Almighty  God.  But  what 
is  such  a  man?  An  idiot.  What  are  his  titles 
and  grandeurs,  his  navies  and  armies,  and  all 
his  opulence?  What  is  all  this?  A  little  chalf, 
a  little  dust,  a  nothing  in  the  presence  of  the 
omnipotent  God. 

I  recollect  here  a  piece  of  instruction  which 
a  king  one  day  gave  his  courtiers.  They  were 
calling  him  Lord  of  earth  and  sea.  The  mo- 
narch put  on  his  robes,  and  caused  himself  to 
be  carried  to  the  sea-shore.  There  he  sat  on 
the  beach,  and  said  to  the  waves,  "  The  land 
on  which  I  sit  is  mine,  and  you,  sea,  you  are 
under  my  dominion,  I  command  you  to  respect 
your  king,  and  to  come  no  farther."  The 
waves,  deaf  to  his  voice,  came  rolling  forward, 
the  first  wetted  his  feet,  the  second  seemed  to 
threaten  to  carry  him  away.  "  There,"  said 
the  king  to  his  courtiers,  "see  what  a  lord  I 
am  of  earth  and  sea."  Great  lesson  to  all 
worldly  potentates!  Insignificant  man,  put  on 
thy  crown,  dazzle  thyself  first  with  the  glitter 
of  it,  and  then  try  to  beguile  the  eyes  of 
others,  deck  thyself  in  thy  royal  robes,  try  thy 
strength,  show  us  the  extent  of  thy  power,  say 
to  winds  and  waves,  to  fortune,  and  sickness, 
and  death,  I  command  you  to  stop,  and  to  re- 
spect your  king. 

O  think  of  the  glorious  attributes,  the  sub- 
lime ideas,  the  deep  counsels,  and  the  abun- 
dant power  of  that  God  whom  thou  opposcst. 
"  He  stretched  out  the  north  over  the  empty 
place,  and  hangeth  the  eartli  upon  nothing. 
He  bindeth  up  the  waters  in  his  thick  clouds. 
The  pillars  of  heaven  tremble,  and  are  asto- 
nished at  his  reproof.  He  dividclh  the  sea 
with  his  ])ower,  and  by  his  understanding  he 
smitcth  through  the  proud.  He  metcth  out 
heaven  with  a  span,  and  comprehendeth  tlie 
dust  of  the  earth  in  a  measure.  He  wcigheth 
the  mountains  in  scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  ba- 
lance. 1  le.  silteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
and  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grasshoppers. 
Beliold  all  nations  are  as  the  drop  of  a  bucket, 
and  are  counted  as  the  small  dust  of  the  ba- 
lance. All  things  before  hiui  are  as  nothing, 
and  they  are  counted  to  him  less  than  nothing, 
and  vanity.  He  bringcth  princes  to  nothing, 
lie  maketh  the  judges  of  tlie  earth  as  vanity," 
Job  -xxvi.  7,  8.  11,  12;  and  Isa.  xl.  \2.  22. 
15.  n.  23. 

Think  of  thy  soul,  thou  wilt  find  nothing 
there  but  infirmity  and  ignorance.  Thou  art 
confined  as  a  man,  and  more  confined  still  as  a 

f;rcat  man,  for  grandeur  usually  contracts  the 
imits  of  knowledge  and  improvement. 

Think  of  the  aullior  of  those  advantages 
which  swell  thee  with  pride.  Thou  art  indebted 


for  them  to  that  very  Being  whom  thou  pre- 
tendest  to  resist.  It  is  his  breath  that  animates 
thee,  his  arm  upholds  thee,  his  earth  supports 
thee,  his  food  nourishes  tiiee,  and  it  his  air 
which  thou  borrowest  to  breathe. 

Think  what  morUil  blows  of  just  vengeance 
God  has  given  to  some  insolent  creatures,  who 
presumptuously  oppose  his  majesty.  So  pe- 
rished Antiochus,  who,  in  the  language  of  the 
book  of  Maccabees,  a  "  little  afore  thought  he 
might  command  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and 
weigh  the  high  mountains  in  a  balance,  was 
now  cast  on  the  ground,  so  that  the  worms 
rose  up  out  of  his  body,  his  flesh  fell  away, 
and  the  filtlnness  of  his  smell  was  noisome  to 
all  his  army,"  2  Mac.  ix.  8 — 10.  So  perished 
Herod:  "  His  bowels  were  consumed  with  an 
inward  fire.  His  entrails  were  full  of  ulcers. 
The  stencil  of  his  breath  infected  his  room,  and 
drove  away  all  his  family."  So  perished  Ma.x- 
iminus,  of  whom  Lactantius  gives  this  fright- 
ful account:  "  The  wound  gained  his  vitals, 
there  vermin  engendered,  the  palace  and  the 
city  were  infected,  his  body  putrefied,  the  more 
his  sores  were  cleansed,  the  more  innumerable 
were  the  swarms  of  vermin  that  proceeded 
from  them,  of  which  his  entrails  were  an  in- 
exhaustible source."* 

Think  of  thine  end.  Look  through  the  de- 
ceitful splendour  that  covers  thee.  See  the 
weakness  of  thine  organs,  behold  thy  hands 
already  shaking,  thy  knees  already  trembling, 
thy  head,  all  crowned  and  glittering  as  it  is, 
bending  towards  that  earth  from  which  it  was 
taken,  and  to  which  it  will  presently  return. 
Imagine  thyself  dying,  cold,  pale,  groaning, 
and  vainly  calling  to  thine  assistance  thy  cour- 
tiers, thy  sceptre,  and  thy  crown.  Is  this  the 
immortal  man?  This  the  arm  that  ruled  the 
fate  of  whole  nations?  Is  this  the  potentate, 
whose  looks  made  the  world  tremble?  Oh! 
how  eloquent  is  humility,  my  brethren,  to  him 
who  is  willing  to  hear  it!  Oh!  how  sulficient  in 
motives  is  the  school  of  humility  to  him  who 
is  willing  to  be  taugiit  there!  How,  how  can  a 
creature  so  mean,  so  vile,  so  limited,  so  frail, 
so  momentary  as  man,  how  can  he  possibly  op- 
pose Almighty  God?  How  can  he  resist  his 
power?  "  Wilt  thou  yet  say  before  him  that 
slayeth  thee,  I  am  God?  But  thou  slialt  bo  a 
man  and  no  god  in  the  hiuid  of  him  that  slay- 
eth thee,"  Ezek.  xxviii.  9. 

II.  Worldly  policy  is  a  second  obstacle,  which 
some  men  set  against  the  laws  of  heaven,  and 
by  whicli  they  discover  a  disposition  to  resist 
(Jod,  and  to  compel  him  by  superior  force. 
Had  the  man,  of  whom  I  speak,  other  ideas,  he 
would  lay  down  as  first  principles  and  grounds 
of  action — that  the  wisest  maxims  of  state  are 
those  of  religion — liuit  the  best  we  can  do  for 
society  is  to  render  G(jd  propitious — and  that 
the  happiest  people  are  they  "  whose  (iod  is 
the  Lord."  When  councils  were  held  to  deli- 
berate on  peace  or  war,  such  a  man  would  do 
from  religious  principle  what  was  anciently 
done  at  Rome  from  the  mere  dictates  of  natu- 
ral justice.  It  would  be  examined  not  only 
whether  it  would  be  advantageous  to  make 
war  in  the  present  conjuncture,  but  whether  it 
were  just;  whether  it  proceeded  from  an  insa- 


Lactant.  libro  de  mortib.  persecutor.  C.  xxxtii. 


Ser.  LIX.] 


TO  OPPOSE  GOD. 


03 


liable  desire  of  dominion  and  wealth,  or  from 
the  right,  which  all  mankind  have  to  guard 
and  defend  themselves.  Wiicn  the  question 
was,  Whether  any  one  should  be  invested  with 
magisterial  authority,  such  a  man  would  ex- 
amine with  as  much  care  the  religious  princi- 
ples as  llie  political  virtues  of  the  candidate 
for  power;  he  would  not  consider  whether 
he  were  able  to  pnactise  crimes  of  state,  which 
have  been  long  successful,  but  whether  he  in- 
violably respected  the  laws  of  religion,  the  ex- 
ercise of  which  sooner  or  later  must  neces- 
sarily crown  its  adherents  witii  pros|)erity  and 
victory.  Never  would  he  assist  in  placing  at 
the  head  of  a  political  body  a  blasphemer  or 
an  atheist. 

But  when  we  see  men  pursue  a  conduct  di- 
rectly opposite  to  this,  when  we  see  men  always 
forget  that  they  are  Christians,  when  they  de- 
liberate on  the  public  good,  and  lay  aside,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  speak  so,  faith,  conscience, 
and  the  gospel,  at  the  door  of  the  council 
room;  when  we  see  a  certain  disdainful  air,  a 
look  of  aifected  ])ity  put  on  at  the  proposals 
of  such  as  wish  to  direct  the  public  good  by  the 
principles  of  religion;  when  we  see  people  of 
tliis  character  pretend  by  their  prudence  to 
avert  public  calamities;  have  we  not  a  right  to 
say  of  such  men,  that  they  resist  God,  and 
pretend  to  compel  him  witii  superior  power? 

But  what  are  such  men?  Idiots.  With 
your  pernicious  maxims  you  banish  religion  and 
piety,  and  by  so  doing  deprive  yourselves  of  all 
tiic  advantages  which  you  might  have  derived 
from  the  inclinations  of  a  people  well  disposed  to 
be  religious  and  good.  Should  the  people  live 
by  the  rules  of  religion,  they  would  pay  ta.xes 
with  fidelity,  obey  their  governors  witli  respect, 
generously  prefer  the  public  good  before  private 
interest,  and  so  establish  such  a  correspondence 
between  subject  and  sovereign  as  can  alone 
render  states  prosperous  nnd  happy:  but  while 
they  see  that  their  masters  wander  out  of  this 
riglit  road,  they  act  towards  you  as  you  do  to- 
wards God,  they  employ  their  power  to  resist 
your  authority,  and  their  knowledge  and  ad- 
dress to  elude  your  laws. 

With  these  pernicious  maxims  you  render 
social  interest  a  chimera.  You  consider  a  pub- 
lic body  as  a  being,  permanent,  and  in  a  man- 
ner eternal,  which  ought  to  employ  itself  about 
what  concerns  it  as  a  public  body:  but  you 
never  recollect  tliat  this  public  body  is  com- 
posed of  only  individuals,  one  of  whom  has 
only  a  few  years,  and  another  only  a  few  months 
to  live  in  this  world,  so  that  the  real  interest 
of  such  as  compose  this  body  has  no  relation 
tt)  the  duration  of  the  body,  a  duration  which 
individuals  cannot  expect,  and  whicii  regards 
them  only  to  the  end  of  their  own  days.  You 
labour  to  promote  a  general  interest,  in  which 
individuals  have  only  a  very  small  share,  and 
you  act  against  the  true  interest  of  each,  which 
consists  not  in  consolidating  a  world  that  he  is 
just  quitting,  but  in  learning  to  pass  through  it 
with  dignity,  and  to  leave  it  with  ease. 

With  these  pernicious  maxims  you  keep  me- 
morable catastrophes  out  of  sight,  those  terri- 
ble subversions  of  wicked  societies;  as  the  his- 
tory of  the  old  world,  that  of  Sodom  and  Go- 
morrah, that  of  the  kingdom  of  .Judah,  that 
of  the  ten  tribes,  that  of  Babylon,  that  of  the 


seven  eastern  churches,  and  that  of  many  others, 
whoso  sad  but  edifying  ruins  should  always  be 
before  our  eyes. 

W  ith  these  pernicious  maxims,  for  the  sake 
of  a  few  trifling  directions  which  you  give  so- 
ciety for  maxims  of  state,  you  deprive  us  of 
tiic  powerful  protection  of  a  God,  who  would 
himself  sit  at  the  helm;  you  raise  his  justice 
against  us,  you  put  into  his  hands  thunder  and 
lightning  to  destroy  us,  and,  instead  of  being 
our  parents  and  guides,  you  are  disturbers  of 
the  state,  and  the  most  implacable  enemies  of 
sound  civil  polity. 

O  "  pillar  of  a  cloud!"  O  "  wisdom  that  is 
from  above!"  Animate,  for  ever  animate,  the 
conductors  of  this  people,  preside  in  their  coun- 
cils, march  at  the  liead  of  their  armies,  sanctify 
their  reflections,  and  engrave  for  ever  on  their 
souls  this  maxim  of  my  text,  that  "  there  is  no 
wisdom  nor  understanding,  nor  counsel  against 
the  Lord,"  James  iii.  IT. 

III.  Our  third  article  concerns  the  voluptu- 
OTW.  One  of  tlie  most  inviolable  laws  of  God 
is,  that  felicity  should  be  the  reward  of  virtue, 
and  misery  the  punishment  of  vice.  What 
does  a  voluptuous  man  op[>ose  against  the  exe- 
cution of  this  law?  Noise,  company,  diver- 
sions, refinements  of  lasciviousness.  In  these 
he  intrenches  himself,  and  defies  us  to  force 
him  thence.  While  the  catechumen  is  studi- 
ously employing  himself  to  clear  away  the  dif- 
ficulties, and  to  determine  the  important  ques- 
tions, on  vvliich  all  his  future  hopes  dependj 
while  the  believer  is  striving  against  the  stream, 
and  endeavouring  to  subdue  his  own  pas- 
sions; while  the  penitent  feels  and  bows  un- 
der the  weighty  remembrance  of  his  sins; 
while  the  martyr  falls  a  victim  to  the  rige  of 
his  persecutors;  the  voluptuary  feels  a  joy, 
which  he  thinks  unalterable,  and  creates  a 
kind  of  fool's  paradise,  in  which  he  pretends 
to  brave  God,  and  to  be  happy  in  spite  of  him, 
whose  sovereign  command  condemns  him  to 
misery.  Absurd  tranquillity!  Senseless  secu- 
rity! I  appeal  to  reason,  I  appeal  to  old  age, 
I  appeal  to  death,  I  appeal  to  judgment. 

What  a  system  is  that  of  the  voluptuary, 
when  it  is  examined  at  the  bar  of  reason.'  There 
he  is  taught,  that  he  owes  his  existence  to  a 
Supreme  Being,  and  that  he  is  under  infinite 
obligations  to  him;  there  he  is  made  to  feel 
that  he  had  no  assurance  of  living  four  days, 
that  within  fifteen,  twenty,  or  thirty  years,  he 
will  be  taken  out  of  this  world,  and  that  at  the 
end  of  this  term  there  will  be  before  him  noth- 
ing but  death,  eternity,  and  hell.  He  knows 
nothing  against  this,  he  agrees  to  all  this,  he 
inwardly  feels  demonstrations  of  all  this:  but 
instead  of  trying  to  avoid  the  evil  day,  he  tries 
to  forget  it:  and,  as  if  the  existence  of  beings 
depended  on  the  attention  we  paid  to  them,  he 
imagines  he  has  annihilated  these  dreadful 
objects,  bccaiLse  he  has  found  the  art  of  obli- 
terating them  from  his  memory. 

What  a  system  is  that  of  the  voluptuary, 
when  it  is  examined  at  the  tribunal  of  cnn- 
science!  For,  in  fact,  whatever  eflbrts  may  be 
employed  to  drown  the  voice  of  conscience, 
it  sometimes  roars,  and  will  be  heard.  Even  a 
depraved  conscience  has  a  kind  of  periodical 
power,  it  cannot  be  always  intoxicated  with 
worldly  pleasure.     Bclshazzar,  on  a  certain  fes- 


Se 


THE  VANITY  OF  ATTEMPTING 


[Ser.  LIX. 


tival  day,  was  sitting  at  table  with  liis  court. 
In  order  to  insult  the  God  of  Israel,  lie  ordered 
the  sacred  vessels,  which  his  father  had  brought 
away   from   tlie   temple   of  Jerusalem,  to  be 
brought  into  company,  that  he  and  his  "  prin- 
ces, his  wives  and  his  concubines,  might  drink 
therein,  and  praise  the  gods  of  gold  and  of  sil- 
ver, of  brass,  of  iron,  of  wood,  and  of  stone." 
All  on  a  sudden  "his  countenance  changes, 
and   his   thoughts  trouble   him;    so   that   the 
joints  of  his  loins  are  loosed,  and  his  knees 
sn)ite  one  against  another,"  Dan.  v.  2.  4.  6; 
thus  proving  the  truth  of  wliat  the  Wise  Man 
observes,  that  "  the  wicked  flee  when  no  man 
pursueth,"  Prov.   xxviii.   1.      Unhappy  king! 
What  is  the  occasion  of  all  this  terror  and  fear? 
Dost  thou  see  a  sword  hanging  over  thee  by  a 
single  thread,  and  ready  to  fall  on  thee,  and  cut 
thee  asunder.'     Have  thine  enemies,  who  are 
besienring  the  capital,  found  a  way  into  it'  Does 
the  eartl)  reel  under  thy  feet'     Is  hell  opening 
to  thine  eyes.'    Do  the  infernal  furies  surround 
thee,  and  cause  the  serpents  on  their  heads  to 
hiss  in  thine  ears.'     No:  but  a  "  hand  is  writing 
over  ao-ainst  the  candlestick  upon  the  plaster 
of  the  wall,"  ver.  5.     And  what  have  you  to 
fear  from  that  hand.'     You  are  not  acquainted 
with  the  characters.     Perhaps  tlie  writing  is 
an  encomium  on  thee.     Perhaps  it  is  an  oracle, 
foretelling  thee  some  new  acquisition  of  splen- 
dour  and   glory.      Why,   of   two   senses,   of 
which  the  writing  is  capable,  dost  thou  ima- 
gine the  worst'     My  brethren,  behold  the  so- 
lution of  tliis  difficulty.      These  fingers  nf  a 
?>ian's  hand  are  not  alone;  the  finger  of  God 
accompanies  them.     The  subject  is  not  only 
written  on  the  wall  of  the  royal  palace;  but  it 
is  also  inscribed  on  the  heart  of  the  king.     His 
eyes  could  not  read  the  characters,  but  his  con- 
science knew  how  to  e.xjilain  them.     Ah!  mi- 
serable hypocrite!  cease  calling  for  astrologers; 
leave  oft"  consulting  magicians  and  Chaldeans. 
Listen  to  your  own  heart.     The  expositor  is 
within  thee,  and  thy  conscience  will  tell  thee 
more  than  all  the  wise  men  in  thy  kingdom. 

What  a  system  is  that  of  a  voluptuary  con- 
sidered in  the  decline  of  life!  A  volii])tuous 
man,  when  his  organs  are  become  feeble,  and 
his  faculties  worn  out,  finds  he  has  outlived 
his  felicity,  yet  he  looks  after  tlie  gods,  of 
which  time  has  despoiled  him,  and  in  vain  ex- 
pects that  voluptuousness  can  rid  him  of  the 
painful  reflections  which  torment  and  excru- 
ciate him. 

What  a  system  is  that  of  a  v<jlui)luary  consi- 
dered in  regard  to  dealk  and  future  punish- 
virnl!  The.se  certainly,  ought  to  alarm  all 
that  expect  them:  but  they  ought  above  all 
to  terrify  a  voluptuous  man.  \Vlial  will  bo 
the  sensibility  of  such  a  man?  VVh.it  will  be 
his  despair,  when  he  shall  pas?  from  a  bed  of 
down  to  all-i>ervading  jiain,  from  pleasure  to 
eternal  fire,  from  excessive  lasciviousness  to 
chains  of  darkness,  from  the  com])any  of  those 
who  ministered  to  his  volui)tousness,  to  that 
of  the  executioners  of  divine  vengeance. 

IV.  In  fine,  a  stoical  olistinacy  is  the  fourth 
obstacle,  wliicli  some  place  against  the  pur- 
]ioses  of  Cîod.  Would  you  see  this  hardiness 
U'i)re8ente<l  in  the  most  insolent  laiiguiige? 
Would  you  see  how  fiir  men  have  been  able 
to   carry  their   extravagance   on  this  article? 


Hear  one  of  the  most  admired  of  the  ancient 
philosophers,  but  the  least  worthy  of  admira- 
tion. Hear  what  an  idea  he  gives  of  his  wise 
man:  "  There  are  neither  walls  nor  towers, 
which  battering  rams  cannot  subvert;  but 
there  are  no  machines  that  can  shake  the 
soul  of  a  wise  man.  Do  not  compare  him  to 
the  walls  of  Babylon,  which  Alexander  knew 
how  to  destroy;  nor  to  those  of  Carthage  and 
Numantia,  v/hich  human  power  subverted.  Do 
not  com]>are  him  either  to  the  citadel  or  the 
capital,  where  the  marks  of  enemies  attempt- 
ing to  render  themselves  masters  of  them  are 
yet  to  be  seen.  Arrows  shot  at  the  sun  never 
reach  him.  Sacrileges  committed  in  the  tem- 
ples of  the  Deity,  by  breaking  in  pieces  the 
symbols,  and  by  subverting  the  edifices,  never 
aftect  him.  What  am  I  saying?  the  gods  them- 
selves may  be  buried  in  the  ruins  of  their  own 
temples;  but  the  wise  man  never  can;  or, 
could  ho  be  overwhelmed,  he  could  suft'er  no 
damage.  Jupiter  hath  nothing  more  than  the 
wise  man,  except  his  immortality.  But  the 
wise  man,  in  his  turn,  hath  this  superiority, 
that  he  is  perfectly  happy  during  the  short 
space  of  this  life.  In  this  he  is  as  much  great- 
er than  Jupiter,  as  it  is  more  glorious  to  com- 
press all  happiness  into  a  narrow  space  than 
to  ditfuse  it  through  one  more  considerable, 
and  to  possess  as  much  felicity  in  one  single 
instant,  as  the  greatest  of  the  gods  enjoys  iii 
eternity." 

Who  would  believe,  my  brethren,  that  men, 
who  were  formerly  the  admiration  of  the 
world,  had  been  able  to  oppose  such  crude 
and  fanciful  ideas  against  all  the  evidences  of 
their  depravity  and  dependence?  Who  could 
conceive,  that  they  seriously  set  these  against 
sickness,  poverty,  pain,  conscience,  death,  the 
grave,  the  punisimient  of  hell,  and  the  majesty 
of  God? 

Are  there  any  of  this  extraordinary  sect  yet 
subsisting?  Hath  Zeno  any  disciples  now.? 
Are  there  any  who  3'et  follow  and  revere  the 
doctrine  of  the  portico?  Yes,  my  brethren, 
there  are  yet  peo|)le,  who,  under  another 
name,  maintain  the  same  sentiments.  1  know 
not  wlience  the  evil  comes,  whether  from  the 
air  we  breathe  in  these  provinces,  or  from  our 
diet,  or  from  any  other  cause.  I  cannot  tell 
whether  dulness  of  fancy  produce  in  U3  what 
excessive  vivacity  produces  in  other  countries, 
but  it  should  seem,  we  have  as  many  of  this 
sort  among  us  as  there  are  in  oilier  places. 
We  have  people  who  aftect  an  unshaken  firm- 
ness, who  glory  in  preserving  their  tranquillity 
uiulcT  all  e.\trcni(!S  of  ibrtuno;  ]>eople  who  be- 
hold the  king  of  terrors  with  intnipidity,  and 
who  laugh  at  the  horrors  of  death,  alike  iin- 
movcajjle  in  liie  hearing  of  the  most  alarming 
truths,  the  most  terrible  descriptions  of  futurity, 
censures  the  most  sharp,  and  threatenings  the 
most  dreadful»  And  whence  do  they  derive 
this  calm  intrepidity?  From  vows  addressed  to 
heaven?  No.  Is  it  from  the  progress  they  have 
made  iit  religion?  Not  at  all.  Is  it  from  the 
clearness  of  a  close,  connected,  and  evident 
system?  Nothing  of  all  this.  Whence  then 
do  they  derive  these  sentiments?  From  1  know 
not  what  secret  pride,  from  1  know  not  what 
absurd  gravity,  i'roiii  I  know  not  what  infernal 
inflexibility,  from  a  sort  of  sloicaJ,  or  shall  I 


Ser.  LIX.] 


TO  OPPOSK  GOD. 


57 


rather  call  it  brutal  pliilosophy,  which  they  have 
revived.  We  inireiiuously  acknowledire  that  tlie 
sight  of  people  of  this  character  always  excites 
emulation  in  us,  at  least  it  leads  us  to  deplore 
the  inclFicacy  of  rcli<fion  in  some  people's 
minds.  Truth  with  all  its  brightness,  virtue 
with  its  jTraccs,  religion  with  its  evidences, 
eternity  with  its  demonstrations,  celestial  feli- 
city with  its  pomp,  all  these  things  can  hardly 
hoid  some  trembling  Christians  steady  to  their 
profession,  who  yet  seem  to  adhere  to  Jesus 
Christ:  while  these  men  without  light,  with- 
out proofs,  without  demonstration,  williout 
certainty,  yea  without  hope  discover  a  tran- 
quillity, which  we  should  congratulate  our- 
selves for  producing,  even  after  we  have  spent 
twenty  or  tiiirty  years  in  the  ministry. 

But  how  fair  soever  this  exterior  may  seem, 
how  insurmountable  soever  this  difliculty  may 
appear,  how  strong  soever  it  may  seem  to  pre- 
vent the  judgments  of  God,  and  to  dispose 
of  the  terrors  which  they  naturally  excite  in 
the  conscience,  it  is  an  effort  of  wickedness 
easily  defeated;  and  although  this  fourth  way 
seems  to  surpass  the  three  others  in  wisdom, 
yet  it  actually  goes  beyond  them  all  in  absur- 
dity and  extravagance. 

Do  we  impose  on  people  of  this  kind?  Let 
them  tell  us  on  what  tlieir  tranquillity  is  found- 
ed. Allowing  the  circumstances  in  which  we 
now  are,  there  can  be  only  two  ways  of  ac- 
•quiring  tranquillity  in  prospect  of  death.  The 
first  is,  to  prove  that  religion  is  a  human  con- 
trivancei  that  al!  wo  propose  concerning  a  fu- 
ture state,  a  heaven  and  a  hell,  and  concerning 
the  means  of  escaping  tlie  last  and  enjoying 
the  first,  is  cither  exaggerated  or  imaginary. 
The  second  is,  to  bring  full  proof  that  we  have 
performed  the  duties,  to  which  religion  has 
annexed  a  promise  of  freedom  from  misery, 
and  the  possession  of  eternal  felicity.  In  which 
class  shall  I  place  the  man  I  have  been  de- 
scribing.' 

He  would  complain  of  injustice  should  I  put 
liim  in  the  first  class.  He  always  professed 
himself  a  Christian.  He  has  all  iiis  life  long 
been  present  at  public  worship,  and  has  par- 
taken of  our  sacraments.  In  any  case,  if  he 
be  an  infidel,  he  is  a  mere  idiot.  Distracted 
with  the  cares  of  life,  he  has  never  made  such 
inquiries  as  are  absolutely  necessary  to  refute 
the  system  of  religion,  even  supposing  the 
system  could  be  refuted;  and  I  pledge  myelf, 
let  him  take  which  side  he  will,  to  silence  him, 
whether  he  undertake  to  attack  religion,  or  to 
defend  it,  so  grossly  ignorant  is  he  of  every 
thing  tlial  belongs  to  the  subject. 

lias  he  tiieu  ol>tained  satisfaction  by  the  se- 
cond method?  A  man,  who  has  set  his  heart 
entirely  at  ease,  because  he  can  give  full  proof 
that  he  has  performed  the  duties  to  which  the 
gospel  has  annexed  a  promise  of  exemption 
from  future  misery,  and  a  possession  of  endless 
felicity;  such  a  man  is  truly  happy;  he  has  ar- 
rived at  the  highest  degree  of  felicity  that  can 
possibly  be  obtained  in  this  valley  of  tears;  for 
his  tranquillity  is  that  "joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory,"  of  which  our  scripture  speaks. 
It  is  that  "  peace  of  God,  which  passetli  all  un- 
derstanding." It  is  the  "  white  stone,  which 
no  man  knoweth  saving  him  that  recciveth 
Vol.  II.— 8 


it  "  But  is  this  the  condition  of  the  man 
whom  1  have  been  describing? 

On  what  conditions  does  religion  promise 
eternal  life  to  a  statesman?  On  condition  that 
he  always  sets  befijre  his  eyes  that  King,  "  by 
whom  kings  reign,  and  princes  decree  justice," 
Prov.  viii.  15;  on  condition  that  he  docs  not 
rtjgard  the  ajipearance  of  persons;  on  condi- 
tion that  he  take  no  bribes,  which  God  de- 
clares "  blind  the  eyes."  You  have  not  per- 
formed this  condition,  you  are  intoxicated 
with  your  own  grandeur,  you  are  inaccessible 
to  the  cries  of  widows  and  orplians,  you  are 
Hexiblc  to  presents,  though  yon  know  they 
are  given  you  to  be  relumed  in  actions  dis- 
guised under  the  fair  names  of  im])arliality  and 
equity.     And  arc  you  in  a  state  of  tran<piillity.' 

On  what  condition  does  the  gospel  promise 
eternal  felicity  to  a  counsellor?  On  condi- 
tion that  he  j)erform  the  oath  administered  to 
him  when  he  entered  on  his  profession,  an  oath 
in  wliicli  ho  called  God  to  witness  that  he 
would  never  plead  any  but  just  causes.  You 
have  not  performed  this  condition,  you  have 
been  known  to  take  either  side  of  a  cause,  yea 
both,  when  your  interest  required  it;  you  have 
been  seen  exercising  your  talents  in  varnishing 
over  such  causes  as  you  durst  not  state  in  their 
true  point  of  light,  and  straining  every  nerve 
to  mislead  the  judges.  And  you  are  in  a 
state  of  tranquillity,  and  will  be  so  the  day 
you  die. 

On  what  condition  does  religion  promise 
eternal  happiness  to  a  man  in  jiossession  of 
property  unjustly  acquired?  On  condition  of 
his  making  restitution.  You  are,  in  this  case, 
I  mean  in  the  case  of  him  who  holds  such  pro- 
perty, for  "  the  stone  cricth  out  of  the  walls  of 
your  houses,  and  the  beam  out  of  the  timber 
witnesses  against  you.  The  hire  of  the  la- 
bourers which  have  reaped  down  your  fields, 
which  is  of  you  kept  back  by  fraud,  crieth, 
and  the  cries  are  entered  into  the  ears  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts,"  Hab.  ii.  11;  Jam.  v.  4.  You 
have  not  made  restitution^  you  will  not  even 
suffer  us  to  utter  this  frightful  word.  Restitu- 
tion; you  arc  going  to  transmit  tiiis  accursed 
patrimony  to  your  children,  and  you  too  are 
tranquil  and  easy!  Wliat!  are  you  also  a  phi- 
losopher? Are  you  also  a  stoic?  Extravagant 
stoicism,  senseless  philosophy,  absurd  tranquil- 
lity! Is  it  tlius  you  pretend  to  oppose  Al- 
mighty God!  "There  is  no  wisdom,  nor  un- 
der-standing, nor  counsel  against  the  i^ord." 

Let  us  conclude.  The  most  reasonable  part, 
that  an  intelligent  creature  can  take,  is  to  sub»- 
mit  to  his  Creator.  Happy,  if  it  were  as  easy 
to  affect  our  hearts,  as  it  is  to  convince  our 
judgments  of  this  article!  Happy,  if  the  heart 
never  appealed  from  the  dictates  of  reason, 
and  if  the  passions  had  no  distinct  and  separate 
system!  A  system  the  more  dangerous,  be- 
cause reason  is  present  only  in  a  few  moments 
of  our  attention;  whereas  the  other,  on  the 
contrary,  always  carries  us  away  when  we  fol- 
low the  suggestions  of  our  passiorfs,  that  is  in 
the  usual  course  of  our  lives. 

My  brethren,  let  us  act  like  intelligent  crea- 
tures, let  us  form  a  just  idea  of  sin,  let  us  al- 
ways have  before  our  eyes  this  image,  which 
the  Wise  Man  has  given  up,  and  which  is  so 


58 


IMAGINARY  SCHEMES 


[Sbr.  LX. 


proper  to  demonstrate  to  us  the  extravagance 
of  it.  Lot  ua  remember,  that  a  sinner  is  an 
idiot,  who  attempts  to  resist  God,  who  opposes 
his  laws,  and  who  undertai^es  to  counteract 
him  by  superior  skill  or  force.  Let  us  seek  in 
a  reconciliation  to  God  those  succours  of  which 
our  silly  pride  otters  us  only  an  appearance. 
But  you  love  grandeur,  you  are  struck  with  the 
courage  of  a  man,  who  opposes  God,  and  who 
pretends  to  resist  and  triumpli  over  iiiin.  Well, 
consider  the  path  we  open  to  you  in  this  point 
of  light.  This  Almighty  God  is  armed  against 
you,  his  anger  is  ready  to  crush  you  to  atoms, 
his  thunder  roars,  his  lightnings  Hash  in  your 
eyes,  his  fire  is  kindled,  and  his  justice  requires 
your  destruction:  but  tiiere  is  an  art  of  disarm- 
ing God.  This  was  the  skill  of  Jacob,  who 
wept,  and  prayed,  and  said,  "  I  will  not  let 
thee  go,  e.icept  thou  bless  me,"  Gen.  xxxii.  26. 
This  was  the  wisdom  of  Moses,  who  stood  in 
the  breach  to  turn  away  the  wrath  of  heaven, 
of  that  Moses  to  wiioin  God  said,  "  Let  me 
alone,  that  I  may  consume  this  people,"  Exod. 
xxxii.  10;  but  Moses  said,  "O  forgive  their  sin, 
and  if  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  thee,  out  of  the  book 
which  thou  hast  written,"  ver.  32.  This  is  the 
art  which  Jesus  Christ  taught  us,  "  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  vio- 
lent take  it  by  force,"  Matt.  xi.  12.  These  are 
Ç)werful  weapons,  which  God  will  not  oppose. 
hese  are  arms  always  effectual.  This  was  the 
method  which  the  Lord  formerly  taught  his 
people  by  the  ministry  of  Isaial),  "  Who  would 
set  briars  and  thorns  against  me  in  battle.'  I 
would  go  through  them,  I  would  burn  them 
together.  O,  let  him  take  hold  of  my  strength, 
he  may  make  peace  with  me,  and  be  sliall  make 
peace  with  me,"  Isa.  xxvii.  4,  5.  Let  us  not 
make  a  vain  parade  before  God  of  fanciful  great- 
ness, let  us  rather  appear  in  our  own  insignifi- 
cance, lot  us  show  ourselves  as  we  are,  "  poor, 
miserable,  blind,  and  naked."  Let  us  not  pre- 
tend to  surprise  him  with  the  wisdom  of  our 
counsels;  but  let  us  endeavour  to  move  his  com- 
passion, by  acknowledging  our  uncertainty, 
our  darkness,  our  ignorance,  our  superficial 
thoughts  on  the  government  of  the  world,  and 
on  that  of  our  families.  Let  us  not  appear  be- 
fore him  intoxicated  with  pleasure,  but  morti- 
fied, contrite,  bowed  down  under  the  weight  of 
our  sins,  prostrate  in  the  dust,  and  wounded 
with  sincere  repentance.  Let  us  not  resist  him 
with  a  brutal  security,  but  let  us  lay  before  him 
our  timidity,  our  doubts,  and  our  fears.  Let 
us  conjure  him,  by  the  sad  objects  of  our  frailty 
and  insignificance  to  pity  our  condition.  These 
are  invincible  arms,  these  are  impenetrable 
shields,  this  is  the  infallible  art  of  prevailing 
with  Almighty  God.  May  he  deign  to  teach 
us  how  to  exercise  it!  May  he  condescend  to 
crown  our  ettbrts  with  success!  Amen!  To 
him  be  honour  and  glory  both  now  and  for  ever! 
Amen. 


SERMON  LX. 


IMAGINARY    SCHEMES    OF    HAPPI- 
NESS. 


ECCLESI.^STES  i.  9. 

Tlie  thing  that  hath  been,  is  that  which  shall  be; 

and  that  ichich  is  done,  is  that  ivhich  shall  be 

done;  and  there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun. 

There  are  few  people  in  the  world,  who  do 
not  fornj  in  their  minds  agreeable  plans  of  hap- 
piness, made  uj)  of  future,  Haltering  pros])ects, 
which  have  no  foundation,  except  in  tlieir  own 
fancies.  This  disposition  of  mind,  wliich  is  so 
general  among  mankind,  is  also  one  of  the  prin- 
cipai|causes  of  tiicir  immoderate  desire  to  live. 
Some  have  questioned,  whether  any  mortal 
were  ever  so  happy  as  to  choose  to  live  his  life 
over  again,  on  condition  of  passing  through  all 
the  events  through  which  lie  had  gone  from  his 
birth  to  his  last  hour.  Without  investigating 
this  problem,  I  venture  to  affirm  that  mankind 
would  be  much  less  attaclicd  to  tlie  world,  if 
they  did  not  ttatter  themselves  witii  the  hope 
of  enjoying  more  pleasure  tiian  they  had  hi- 
therto experienced.  A  child  fancies,  that  as 
soon  as  he  shall  arrive  at  a  certain  stature,  he 
shall  enjoy  more  pleasure  than  he  has  enjoyed 
in  his  childhood,  and  this  is  pardonable  in  a 
child.  The  youth  persuades  liiniself  that  men, 
who  are  what  they  call  settled  in  Ihe  world,  are 
incomparably  more  happy  than  young  people 
can  be  at  his  age.  While  we  think  ourselves 
condemned  to  live  single,  solitude  seems  intole- 
rable; and  when  we  have  associated  ourselves 
with  others,  wfe  regret  the  iiappy  days  we  spent 
in  the  tranquillity  of  solitude.  Thus  we  go  on 
from  fancy  to  fancy,  and  from  one  chimera  to 
another,  till  deatli  arrives,  subverts  all  our 
imaginary  projects  of  happiness,  and  makes  us 
know  by  our  own  experience  what  the  expe- 
rience of  others  might  have  fully  taugiit  us  long 
before,  that  the  whole  world  is  vanity;  that 
every  state,  all  ages,  and  all  conditions,  have 
inconveniences  peculiar  to  themselves,  and  one 
which  is  common  to  them  all,  1  mean  a  cha- 
racter of  disproportion  to  our  iicarts;  so  that  by 
changing  our  situation  we  often  do  no  more 
than  change  our  kind  of  infelicity. 

Of  this  vanity  1  would  endeavour  to-day  to 
convince  you,  my  brethren,  and  I  dedicate  this 
discourse  to  the  destruction  of  imaginary 
schemes  of  happiness.  "  The  thing  tliat  hath 
been,  is  that  wliich  shall  be;  and  that  wiiich  is 
done,  is  that  which  shall  be  done:  and  tiicro  is 
no  new  thing  under  tiic  sun."  It  is  not  unjust 
to  reason  thus;  as  I  have  hitherto  found  notliing 
but  vanity  in  all  the  enjoyments  of  the  world, 
which  I  singled  out  for  myself  as  most  likely  to 
make  me  happy,  this  experience  of  what  has 
been  shall  guide  me  in  my  expectations  of  what 


Ser.  LX.] 


OF  HAPPINESS. 


59 


shall  be.  I  have  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
world  can  ofler  ino  no  object  in  future  ditterent 
in  its  nature  from  lliose  vvliich  1  have  always 
hitherto  found  inad^juate  to  my  liapiiincss. 
All  the  pasi  has  been  vanity,  and  all  the  future 
will  be  vanity  to  the  end  of  the  world.  "  The 
thing  tliat  hath  been  is  that  whicli  shall  bo:  and 
that  wiiich  is  done  is  that  whicii  sliall  be  done; 
and  tliero  is  no  new  thing  under  tlie  sun." 

In  order  to  enter  into  the  views  of  the  Wise 
Man,  we  must  observe  three  things:  first,  the 
error  which  he  attacks — next,  the  arms  he  em- 
ploys— and,  lastly,  the  e»i(/  he  proposes  in  at- 
tacking it.  Sutler  me,  before  I  enter  on  the 
discussion  of  these  articles,  to  give  you  a  more 
o.vact  idea  of  my  meaning,  and  to  lead  you  more 
fully  into  the  plan  of  tliis  discourse. 

In  Ihe  first  article  I  shall  try  to  developc  tlie 
idea  of  Solomon,  and  to  engage  you  to  enter 
into  the  most  intricate  labyrintlis  of  your  own 
hearts,  and  to  make  you  acknowledge  that  we 
are  all,  more  or  less,  prejudiced  in  favour  of 
this  bewitching  opinion,  tiiat  future  life  will 
produce  something  more  solid  and  satisfactory, 
than  wo  have  hitherto  found,  esjjecially  if  we 
obtain  some  advantages,  which  we  have  long 
had  in  prospect,  but  whicli  we  have  not  been 
able  to  obtain. 

in  the  second  part,  we  will  prove,  that  even 
Eujiposing  the  happiest  revolutions  in  our  fa- 
vour, we  should  be  deceived  in  our  hopes,  so 
that  whether  they  happen  or  not  we  shall  be 
brought  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  nothing 
in  tliis  world  capable  of  rendering  us  perfectly 
happy. 

In  the  last  place,  we  shall  conclude  from  these 
two  principles  with  the  Wise  Man,  that  though 
a  reasonable  creature  may  be  allowed  to  belter 
his  condition,  and  to  obtain  a  happier  state  in 
tiiis  world  than  the  past  or  the  present,  yet  he 
ought  by  no  means  to  promise  himself  much 
success,  and  that,  in  one  word,  it  is  in  God 
alone,  and  in  the  hope  of  a  future  state  of  h.ap- 
piness  in  another  life,  that  we  ought  to  place 
our  felicity. 

I.  Let  us  first  of  all  determine  tlie  sense  of 
the  te.vt,  and  examine  what  error  the  Wise  Man 
attacks.  We  have  already  explained  tlie  idea 
we  affix  to  his  expressions,  but  as  they  are  vague 
and  indeterminate,  they  must  be,  first  of  all, 
restrained  by  the  nature  of  the  subjects  of  which 
he  speaks,  and  secondly,  explamed  by  the  place 
they  occupy. 

1.  When  the  Wise  Man  says,  "that  which 
hath  been  is  that  which  shall  be,"  he  does  not 
mean  to  attribute  a  character  of  firmness  and 
consistency  to  such  events  as  concern  us.  No 
man  ever  knew  better  than  he  thetransitoriness 
of  human  affairs:  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  subject  to  occupy  a  post  as 
eminent  as  that  whicli  he  held;  for  a  superficial 
view  of  the  condition  of  public  bodies,  and  of 
that  of  individuals,  will  be  sufficient  to  open  a 
wide  field  to  our  reflections. 

The  condition  of  public  bodies  is  usually 
founded  on  materials  so  brittle,  that  there  is  no 
room  to  be  astonished  at  sudden  and  perpetual 
variations.  A  spectator,  young  in  his  observa- 
tions, and  distant  from  the  central  point,  is 
anmzed  at  the  rapid  changes  which  he  beholds 
suddenly  take  place  like  the  creation  of  new 
worlds;  he  supposes  whole  ages  must  pass  in 


removing  these  enormous  masses,  public  bodies, 
and  in  turning  the  current  of  prosperity  and 
victory.  But  should  he  penetrate  into  the 
S[)ring  of  events,  he  would  soon  find,  that  a  very 
small  and  inconsiderable  point  gave  motion  to 
that  wheel,  on  which  turned  public  prosperity, 
and  public  adversity,  and  which  gave  a  whole 
nation  a  new  and  dilferent  appearance. 

Sometimes  all  the  wise  counsels,  Uie  cool 
delilierations,  the  well-concerted  plans,  that 
constitute  the  prosperity  of  a  nation,  proceed 
from  the  prudence  of  one  single  bead.  This 
one  head  represses  the  venality  of  one,  and  the 
animosity  of  another;  the  ambition  of  this  man, 
and  the  avarice  of  that.  Into  this  head  one 
single  vapour  ascends;  prosjjerity  rela.xes  it, 
death  strikes  it  off.  Instantly  a  new  world 
arises,  and  then  that  which  was  is  no  more,  for 
with  that  head  well-concerted  meiisures,  cool 
deliberations,  and  wise  coun.sel3,  all  vanished 
away. 

Sometimes  the  rare  qualities  of  one  single 
general  animate  a  whole  army,  and  assign  to 
each  member  of  it  his  proper  work;  to  the  pru- 
dent, a  station  wliich  requires  prudence;  to  the 
intrepid,  a  station  which  requires  courage;  and 
even  to  an  idiot  a  place  where  folly  and  ab- 
surdity have  their  use.  From  these  rare  quali- 
ties a  state  derives  tlie  glory  of  rapid  marches, 
bold  sieges,  desperate  attacks,  complete  victo- 
ries, and  sl;outs  of  triumph.  This  general 
finishes  his  life  by  his  own  folly,  or  is  supplanted 
by  a  party  cabal,  or  sinks  into  inaction  on  the 
soft  down  of  his  own  panegyrics,  or  a  fatal  bul- 
let, shot  at  random  and  without  design,  i)ene- 
trates  tlie  heart  of  this  noble  and  generous  man. 
Instantly  a  new  world  appears,  and  that  which 
was  is  no  more;  for  with  tliis  general,  victory 
and  songs  of  triumph  expired. 

Sometimes  the  ability  and  virtue  of  one  sin- 
gle favourite  enable  hiin  to  direct  the  genius 
of  a  jirince,  to  dissipate  the  enchantments  of 
adulation,  to  become  an  antidote  against  the 
poison  of  flattery,  to  teach  him  to  distinguish 
sober  applause  from  self-interested  encomiums, 
and  to  render  him  accessible  to  the  complaints 
of  widows  and  orphans.  This  favourite  sinks 
into  disfavour,  and  an  artful  rival  steps  into 
his  place.  Rehoboam  neglected  the  advice  of 
prudent  old  counsellors,  and  followed  the  sug- 
gestions of  incoiosiderate  youth.  Any  one  of 
these  changes  produces  a  thousand  conse- 
quences. 

It  would  be  easy  to  repeat  of  individuals  what 
we  have  allirmed  of  public  bodies,  that  is,  that 
the  world  is  a  theatre  in  perpetual  motion,  and 
always  varying;  tiiat  every  day,  and  in  a  man- 
ner, every  moment,  exhibits  some  new  scene, 
some  change  of  decoration.  It  is  then  clear, 
that  the  proposition  in  the  text  ought  to  be  re- 
strained to  the  nature  of  tlie  subject  spoken  of. 

2.  But  these  indeterminate  words,  "that 
which  hath  been  shall  be,  and  there  is  no  new 
thing  under  the  sun,"  must  be  explained  by  the 
place  they  occupy.  Our  chief  guide  to  deter- 
mine the  meaning  of  .some  vague  propositions 
of  an  author  is  to  examine  where  he  placed 
them,  and  what  precise  idea  he  had  in  his  mind 
when  he  wrote  them.  By  observing  this  rule, 
we  find,  that  the  same  phrases  are  often  taken 
in  difl'erent  senses.  Without  quoting  other  ex- 
amples, we  observe,  that  the  words  under  con- 


GO 


IMAGINARY  SCHEMES 


[Ser.  LX. 


sideration  occur  twice  in  this  book,  once  in  Iho 
text,  and  again  in  tiie  fifteentli  verse  of  the 
third  chapter,  where  wc  are  told,  "that  wliich 
hath  been  is  now,  and  that  wliich  is  lo  he  hath 
already  been."  However,  it  is  certain,  that 
these  two  sentences,  so  nnich  alike  in  sound, 
have  a  very  ditlcrent  nicaniny;.  The  design  of 
Solomon,  in  the  latter  passage,  is  to  inform  such 
persons  as  tremble  at  the  least  leni]>talion,  that 
they  were  mistaken.  We  complain,  say  they, 
that  God  exercises  our  virtue  mure  than  he 
does  that  of  other  men,  and  though  he  allows 
these  rude  attacks,  yet  he  does  not  afford  us 
strength  sulficient  to  resist  them.  No,  says 
Solomon,  whatever  variety  there  may  appear 
to  be  in  the  conduct  of  God  towards  men,  yet 
there  is  always  a  certain  uniformity,  that  clia- 
racterizes  his  conduct.  Indeed  he  gives  five 
talents  to  one,  while  he  connnits  only  one  ta- 
lent to  another,  and  in  this  respect  there  is  a 
variety:  but  he  does  not  ro(iuire  of  liim,  to  whom 
he  has  connnitted  one  talent,  an  account  of 
more  than  one  talent;  while  he  calls  him  to  ac- 
count for  five  talents,  to  whom  he  committed 
five,  and  in  this  res|)ect  there  is  a  perfect  uni- 
formity in  his  conduct;  and  so  of  the  rest.  "  I 
know  that  whatsoever  God  doth  (these  are  the 
words  of  Solomon,)  1  know  that  whatsoever 
God  doth,  it  shall  be  for  ever:  nothing  can  be 
put  to  it,  nor  any  thing  taken  from  it,  and  God 
doth  it,  that  men  should  fear  before  him.  That 
which  hath  been  is  now,  and  that  which  is  to 
be  hath  already  been,  and  God  requireth  that 
which  is  past." 

But  in  our  text  the  same  words,  "  tlie  thing 
that  hath  been  is  that  which  shall  bo,"  have  a 
different  meaning.  It  is  evident,  by  the  place 
in  which  the  Wise  Rlan  put  tliem,  that  he  in- 
tended to  decry  the  good  things  of  tiiis  life,  to 
make  the  vanity  of  them  appear,  and  to  con- 
vince mankind,  that  no  revolutions  can  change 
the  character  of  vanity  essential  to  their  con- 
dition. The  connexion  of  the  words  establishes 
the  meaning.  From  what  events  do  mankind 
expect,  says  he,  to  procure  to  tiiemsclvcs  a  firm 
and  solid  happiness  in  this  life?  What  efforts 
can  bo  made  greater  than  have  been  made? 
Yet  "  what  profit  hatii  a  man  of  his  labour 
which  he  takelh  under  the  sun?  One  genera- 
tion passeth  away,  and  anoliier  génération 
Cometh,"  but  the  world  continues  the  same; 
"  the  sun  riseth,  and  the  sun  gootii  down,  and 
hasteth  to  his  place  where  he  arose.  The  wind 
gooth  toward  the  south,  and  turnelh  about 
unto  the  nortii,  and  the  wind  retiirniith  again 
according  to  his  circuits.  All  rivers  run  into 
the  sea,  and  whence  they  come,  thither  they 
return  again,  vor.  3 — 7.  The  moral  world 
resembles  the  world  of  nature.  It  is  in  vain  to 
expect  any  vicissitude  that  will  render  the 
remaining  i>art  of  life  more  happy  than  the 
former.  "  Tlio  eye  is  not  satisfied  with  seeing," 
ver.  fi;  or,  as  may  be  translated,  "  with  con- 
sidering; nor  the  ear  filled  with  hearing;"  or, 
as  the  words  may  bo  rendered,  "  the  ear  never 
coascs  to  listen."*  JJut  this  contention,  which 
makes  us  stretch  all  our  faculties  in  search  of 

*  Visua  ct  auclitus  syiiccdorhicc  ponuntur  pro  omnibus 
iiuibus  voluplalim  peroipimiin.  llnriiiii  uulcm  scnsiiiim 
inrmiiiit,  tiiiii  ijuia  ciiriosiMiiiii  •iiiit;  turn  quia  et  miiiimo 
labnrc  ct  mainiia  i.'um  delcrtatione  excrccntiir,  Puli 
8ynupi.  ill  lor..  U. 


something  to  fill  the  void,  that  all  past  and 
present  enjoyments  have  left  in  our  hearts,  this 
does  not  change  the  nature  of  things;  all  will 
be  vanity  in  future,  as  all  ha,s  been  vanity  in 
former  times.  "  The  thing  which  hath  been, 
is  that  wiiich  sliall  be;  and  that  which  is  done, 
is  that  which  hath  been  done;  and  there  is  no 
new  thing  under  tiic  sun." 

Weigh  the.se  words,  my  brethren,  "  the  eye 
is  not  satisfied  with  seeing,  nor  the  ear  filled 
with  hearing."  It  seems  this  is  precisely  the 
disposition  of  mind  which  the  Wise  Man  at- 
tacks; a  disposition,  as  1  said  before,  common 
to  mankind,  and  one  of  the  principal  causes  of 
our  innnoderatc  attachment  to  life.  Let  each 
of  us  study  his  own  lieart,  and  let  us  examine 
whether  we  know  the  j)ortrait  that  we  are  now 
going  to  try  to  sketch. 

We  often  declaim  on  the  vanity  of  the  world; 
but  our  declamations  are  not  unfrequently 
more  intended  to  indemnify  j)ride,  tlian  to 
express  the  genuine  feelings  of  a  heart  disabus- 
ed. We  love  to  declaim  against  advantages 
out  of  our  reach,  and  we  take  vengeance  on 
them  for  not  coming  within  our  grasp  by  ex- 
claiming against  them.  But  such  ideas  as 
these,  how  just  soever  they  may  appear,  are 
only  superficial.  It  would  be  a  fatal  error 
indeed,  to  persuade  ourselves  that  we  are  really 
undeceived,  and  consider  the  world  in  a  true 
point  of  light  on  this  account. 

A  dying  man  is  all  taken  up  with  his  then 
present  condition.  A  desire  of  health  occupies 
all  tiie  capacity  of  his  soul;  but  he  does  not 
observe,  that,  should  he  recover,  he  would  find 
the  same  troubles  and  pains  as  before,  and  on 
account  of  which  he  has  felt  so  much  uneasiness, 
and  shed  so  many  tears.  A  man  waiting  on 
the  coast,  to  go  abroad,  wishes  for  nothing  but 
a  fair  wind;  and  he  does  not  think  that  he  shall 
find  other,  and  jjcrhaps  greater  calannties,  in 
another  climato  than  those  which  compelled 
him  to  (juit  his  native  soil.  This  is  an  image 
of  us  all.  Our  minds  are  limited,  and  when  an 
object  i)resents  itself  to  us,  we  consider  it  only 
in  one  point  of  view,  in  other  lights  we  are  not 
com|)etcnt  to  the  examination  of  it. 

Hence  the  interest  we  take  in  some  events, 
in  tlie  revolutions  of  states,  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  and  the  change  of  seasons:  hence  that 
perpetual  desire  of  change;  hence  sportive 
phantoms  incessantly  created  by  our  imagina- 
tions; hence  chimerical  projects  for  ever  re- 
volving in  our  minds;  or,  as  the  Wise  Man 
exjjressos  it,  "  Eyes  never  sjitisficd  with  seeing, 
and  ears  never  filled  with  hearing."  O,  says 
one,  could  I  get  cured  of  this  illness,  which 
renders  life  a  burthen — could  I,  says  another, 
get  free  from  the  company  that  poison  all  my 
pleasures — could  1  go,  says  a  third,  and  settle 
in  a  country  where  maxims  and  laws  are  alto- 
gether ditlcrent  from  those  under  which  1  live 
— coulil  1  but  obtain  that  place,  which  would 
take  me  out  of  the  obscurity  in  which  I  am 
buried  alive,  and  render  me  conspicuous — could 
I  ac<iuire  a  surticient  fortune  to  support  a  cer- 
tain number  of  domestics,  and  to  procure  me 
certain  accommodations,  then,  in  retirement 
and  silence,  1  would  gratify  the  desire  that 
alone  animates  me,  of  employing  my  life  in  a 
pursuit  of  wis<loni,  and  virtue,  and  happiness! 
Poor  mortals!  will  you  always  run  after  phan- 


Ser.  LX.] 


OF  HAPPINESS. 


61 


toms?  No,  it  is  not  any  of  the  revolutions  you 
so  earnestly  desire  can  alter  the  vanity  essential 
to  human  tilings:  witii  all  the  advantages  which 
you  so  earnestly  desire,  you  would  find  yourself 
as  void  and  as  discontented  as  you  are  now. 
"  The  tiling  which  hath  been,  is  that  which 
shall  be;  and  that  which  is  done,  is  that  which 
shall  be  done:  and  there  is  no  new  thing  under 
the  sun."  O  that  it  were  as  easy  to  imprint 
these  truths  on  our  hearts,  as  it  is  to  give  evi- 
dence that  they  are  truths  to  the  jiidgment! 

11.  Let  us  endeavour  to  aduiit  tiiese  truths, 
with  all  their  eflects  (and  this  shall  be  tiie 
second  part  of  our  discourse,)  let  us  attempt 
the  work,  though  we  have  so  many  reasons  to 
fear  a  want  of  success.  Let  us  first  examine 
the  destination  of  man — next  let  us  look  into 
the  school  of  the  world — then  into  the  expe- 
rience of  Solomon — and,  lastly,  let  us  review 
the  history  of  our  own  lives.  These  are  four 
barriers  against  imaginary  projects;  four  proofs, 
or  rather  four  sources  of  demonstrations  in 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  the  text.  "  The  thing 
that  hath  been,  is  that  which  shall  he:  and  that 
which  is  done,  is  that  which  shall  be  done:  and 
there  is  no  new  thing  under  the  sun." 

I.  Let  us  first  observe  the  appointment  of 
man,  and  let  us  not  form  schemes  opposite  to 
that  of  our  Creator.  When  he  placed  us  in 
this  world,  he  did  not  intend  to  confine  us  to 
it;  but  when  he  formed  us  capable  of  happiness, 
he  intended  we  sliould  seek  in  it  an  economy 
different  from  this.  Without  this  princijile 
man  is  an  inexplicable  enigma;  his  faculties 
and  his  wishes,  his  afflictions  and  his  con- 
science, his  life  and  his  death,  every  thing  that 
concerns  man  is  obscure,  and  beyond  all  eluci- 
dation. 

His  faculties  are  enigmaticaL  Tell  us  what 
is  the  end  and  design  of  the  faculties  of  man? 
Why  has  he  the  faculty  of  knowing?  What, 
is  it  only  to  arrange  a  few  words  in  his  memory? 
only  to  know  tlie  sounds  or  the  pictures  to 
which  divers  nations  of  the  world  have  associ- 
ated their  ideas?  Is  it  merely  to  learn  Greek 
and  Hebrew,  to  collect  a  chaos  of  ancient  his- 
tory, to  go  beyond  remote  ages,  and  to  discover 
with  some  degree  of  probability  what  were  the 
habits,  the  customs,  and  the  follies,  of  the  first 
inhabitants  of  this  universe?  Has  man  intel- 
ligence only  for  the  purpose  of  racking  his 
brain,  and  losing  himself  in  a  world  of  abstrac- 
tions, in  order  to  disentangle  a  few  questions 
from  metaphysical  labyrinths?  what  is  the  origin 
of  ideas,  what  are  the  properties,  and  what  is 
•  the  nature  of  spirit?  Glorious  object  of  know- 
ledge for  an  intelligent  being!  An  object  in 
general  more  likely  to  produce  skepticism,  than 
demonstration  of  a  science  proi)erly  so  called. 
Let  us  reason  in  like  manner  on  the  other  facul- 
ties of  mankind. 

His  desires  are  problematical.  What  power 
can  eradicate,  what  power  can  moderate  his 
desire  to  extend  and  perpetuate  his  duration? 
The  human  heart  includes  in  its  wish  the  past, 
the  present,  the  future,  yea  eternity  itself. 
Explain  to  us,  what  proportion  there  can  be 
between  the  desires  of  man  and  the  wealth 
which  he  accumulates,  the  honours  he  pursues, 
the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  and  the  crown  on  his 
head? 

His  miseiies  aro  enigmatical.     This  article 


opens  a  more  ample  field  of  meditation  than 
the  former,  for  Uw.  pleasures  of  mankind  are 
only  a  point,  only  an  atom  in  comparison  of 
the  miseries  which  jjursue  and  overtake  him. 
Who  can  reconcile  the  doctrine  of  a  good  God 
with  that  of  a  miserable  man,  with  the  doubts 
that  divide  his  mind,  with  the  remorse  that 
gnaws  his  heart,  with  the  uncertainties  that 
torment  him,  with  the  catastrophe  that  enve- 
lo])es  him,  with  the  vicissitudes  which  are 
always  altering  his  situation,  with  the  false 
friends  who  betray  him,  with  pain  that  con- 
sumes him,  with  indigence  that  contracts  him, 
with  neglect  and  contempt  which  mortify  him, 
and  with  such  a  number  of  other  inconvenien- 
ces and  calamities  as  conspire  to  embitter  his 
existence? 

His  lifi'.  is  a  mystery.  What  part,  poor  man, 
what  part  are  you  acting  in  this  world?  Who 
misplaced  you  thus? 

llis  ilealli  is  enigmatical.  This  is  the  greatest 
of  all  enigmas;  four  days  of  life,  a  life  of  sixty, 
or  a  hundred  years,  is  all  that  this  creature 
called  man  has  to  expect  in  this  world;  he  dis- 
appears almost  as  soons  as  he  makes  his  ap- 
pearance, he  is  gone  in  an  instant  from  the 
cradle  to  the  coffin,  his  swaddling  bands  are 
taken  off,  and  his  shroud  is  put  on. 

Lay  down  the  principle  which  we  have  ad- 
vanced, grant  that  the  great  design  of  the  Cre- 
ator, by  j)laciiig  man  amidst  the  objects  of  this 
present  world,  was  to  draw  out  and  extend  his 
desires  after  another  world,  and  then  all  these 
clouds  vanish,  all  these  veils  are  drawn  aside, 
all  these  enigmas  explained,  nothing  is  obscure, 
nothing  is  problematical  in  man. 

His/aci(i(tÊS  are  not  enigmatical;  the  faculty 
of  knowing  is  not  confined  to  such  vain  science 
as  he  can  acquire  in  this  world.  He  is  not 
placed  here  to  acquire  knowledge,  but  virtue; 
at  least  he  is  placed  in  this  world  to  acquire 
knowledge  only  so  far  as  it  contributes  to  the 
acquisition  of  virtue.  If  he  acquire  virtue,  he 
will  be  admitted  into  another  world,  where  his 
utmost  desire  of  knowledge  will  be  gratified. 

His  desires  are  not  mysterious.  When  the 
laws  of  order  require  him  to  check  and  control 
his  wishes,  let  him  restrain  them.  When  the 
l)rofession  of  religion  requires  it,  let  him  deny 
liimself  agreeable  sensations,  and  let  him  pa- 
tiently suffer  tlic  cross,  tribulations,  and  perse- 
cutions. Let  him  subdue  his  passion  for  ele- 
vation and  grandeur,  and  let  him  humbly  rest 
in  that  mean  situation  where  it  has  pleased 
Providence  to  place  him.  Let  him  moderate 
his  love  of  riches,  and  let  him  patiently  submit 
to  poverty  and  indigence.  After  he  shall  have 
thus  submitted  to  tiie  laws  of  his  Creator,  he 
may  expect  another  period  in  which  his  desire 
to  be  great  will  be  satisfied. 

His  nmeries  are  no  more  enigmatical;  they 
e.xercise  his  virtue,  and  will  be  rewarded  with 
glory. 

His  life  ceases  to  be  mysterious;  it  is  a  state 
of  probation,  a  time  of  trial,  a  period  given 
liiin  to  make  choice  of  an  eternity  of  happi- 
ness, or  an  eternity  of  misery. 

His  death  is  no  longer  a  mystery,  and  it  is 
impossible  that  either  his  life  or  his  death 
should  be  enigmas,  for  the  one  unfolds  the 
other:  the  life  of  man  is  not  an  enigma,  be- 
cause  it   tends   to  death,  and  death  verifies. 


IMAGINARY  SCHEMES 


[Ser.  LX. 


proTes,  and  demonstrates  the  idea  we  have 
given  of  life. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  the  destination  of 
man  is  one  great  barrier  against  imaginary 
schemes  of  liappiness.  Change  tlie  face  of  so- 
ciety, subvert  the  order  of  the  world,  put 
despotical  government  in  the  place  of  a  de- 
mocracy, peace  in  the  place  of  war,  plenty  in 
the  place  of  scarcity,  and  you  will  alter  noth- 
ing but  the  surface  of  liuman  tilings,  the  sutc 
Btanco  will  always  continue  the  same.  "  The 
thing  that  hath  been,  is  tliat  wliich  shall  be; 
and  that  which  is  done,  is  tliat  which  shall 
be  done:  and  there  is  no  new  thing  under 
the  sun." 

2.  The  school  of  the  world  opens  to  us  a  se- 
cond source  of  demonstrations.  Enter  tliis 
school,  and  you  will  renounce  all  vain  schemes 
of  felicity. 

There  you  will  learn,  that  the  greatest  part 
of  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  of  which  you 
entertain  such  fine  notions,  are  only  phan- 
toms, which  seem  indeed  at  a  distance  to  have 
some  solidity  and  consistence,  but  which  van- 
ish the  moment  you  approach  and  try  to  en- 
joy them. 

There  you  will  learn,  that  the  extensive 
views,  the  great  designs,  the  plans  of  immor- 
tality and  glory,  wliicli  revolve  in  the  mind  of 
an  ambitious  man,  keep  him  continually  upon 
the  rack,  trouble  his  repose,  deprive  iiim  of 
sleep,  and  render  him  insensible  to  all  the  plea- 
sures of  life. 

There  you  will  understand,  that  the  friends 
who  attach  themselves  to  us  when  we  have 
favours  to  bestow,  are  venal  souls,  who  put  up 
their  esteem  at  auction,  and  sell  it  to  the  high- 
est bidder:  blood-suckers,  who  live  upon  tlic 
substance  of  those  round  whom  they  twist  and 
twine;  that  the  sacred  names  of  friendship, 
tenderness,  zeal,  and  devotedness,  are  nothing 
in  their  mouths  but  empty  sounds,  to  which 
they  affix  no  ideas. 

There  you  will  find  that  those  passions,  which 
men  of  high  rank  have  the  power  of  fully  gra- 
tifying, are  sources  of  trouble  and  remorse,  and 
that  all  the  pleasure  of  gratification  is  nothing 
in  comparison  of  tlie  pain  of  one  regret  caused 
by  the  remembrance  of  it. 

There  you  will  learn,  that  tlie  husbandman, 
who  all  day  follows  the  plough  or  the  cart, 
and  who  finds  at  home  in  the  evening  a  family 
of  love,  where  innocent  and  atVectionate  chil- 
dren surround  a  table  furnished  with  plain  and 
simple  diet,  is  incomparably  more  happy,  than 
the  favourite  of  victory  and  fortune,  who  rides 
in  a  superb  carriage  attended  by  a  splendid  re- 
tinue, who  sits  at  a  table  where  art  and  nature 
seem  to  vie  witli  eacli  other  in  lavishing  out 
their  treasures,  who  is  surrounded  with  cour- 
tiers watching  their  fate  in  the  cast  of  his  eye, 
or  the  signal  of  his  hand. 

In  a  word,  you  will  there  understand,  that 
what  may  seem  the  most  fortunate  events  in 
your  favour,  will  contribute  very  little  to  your 
happiness. 

3.  But  if  the  school  of  the  world  is  capable 
of  teaching  us  to  renounce  our  fanciful  projects 
of  felicity,  Solomon  is  the  man  in  tlic  world 
the  most  learned  in  this  school,  and  the  most 
able  to  give  us  intelligence.     Accordingly,  we 


have  made  his  declaration  the  third  source  of 
our  demonstrations. 

When  your  preachers  declaim  against  the 
vanity  of  human  things,  you  secretly  say  to 
yourselves,  their  judgment  merits  very  little 
regard.  You  think  that  tlicy,  generally  edu- 
cated in  silence  and  retirement,  having  breath- 
ed only  the  dusty  air  of  schools  and  libraries, 
are  unacquainted  with  that  world  against  which 
they  declaim.  I  will  not  now  examine  this  re- 
proach. People  of  our  order,  I  grant,  are  very 
apt  to  form  false  ideas  of  the  world.  But  take 
our  word  for  one  truth,  for  which  we  could  al- 
lege a  thousand  proofs,  that  is,  that  if  they 
magnify  worldly  objects,  it  is  because  they  are 
strangers  to  the  world.  A  hermit  who  has 
spent  all  his  days  in  dens  and  deserts;  a  nun 
sequestered  from  society  in  her  childhood,  and 
buried  in  the  cells  and  solitary  walks  of  a  con- 
vent; a  man  who  has  grown  gray  over  his 
books;  people  of  this  kind  generally  imagine 
that  the  world  is  full  of  pleasure,  and  that  the 
demon  of  voluptuousness  has  strewed  all  the 
paths  with  flowers  and  perfumes  in  favour  of 
such  as  travel  them.  I  know  no  one  more  pro- 
per to  teach  us  a  good  course  of  morality  than 
an  old  reformed  courtier,  who  chooses  to  re- 
tire after  he  has  spent  the  prime  of  his  life  in 
dissipation. 

On  this  principle,  what  an  impression  ought 
the  declaration  of  Solomon  to  make  on  our 
minds?  But  what  an  idea  does  he  give  us  of 
all  the  good  things  of  which  he  had  made  an 
experiment'  "  and  this  also,"  says  he  of  each 
particular,  in  the  catalogue  of  the  whole,  "and  . 
this  also  is  vanity."  This  word  seems  to  me 
very  remarkable,  "  tfiis  also,  and  this  also  is 
vanity." 

Few  men  are  so  fascinated  with  the  world 
as  not  to  know  that  some  things  in  it  are  vain 
and  vexatious.  Most  men  say  of  some  jKirti- 
cular  object,  this  is  vanity;  but  very  few  are 
so  rational  as  to  comprehend  all  the  good  things 
of  this  life  in  the  same  class,  and  to  say  of 
each,  as  Solomon  did,  "  this  also  is  vanity." 
A  poor  peasant,  whose  ruinous  cottage  does 
not  keep  out  the  weather,  will  readily  say,  My 
cottage  is  vanity:  but  he  imagines  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  solidity  in  the  happiness  of  him 
who  sleeps  in  a  superb  palace.  A  man  who  is 
admitted  only  into  a  small  circle  of  company, 
hardly  known  in  society,  will  say  without  hesi- 
tation, my  circle  is  vanity;  but  he  fancies  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  solidity  in  the  happiness  of 
tliose  who  are  admitted  into  circles;  or,  shall  I 
rather  say,  into  that  chaos,  where  Jews  and  . 
Greeks,  Barbarians  and  Scythians,  people  of 
all  nations,  and  of  every  religion,  seem  to  con- 
tribute to  a  general  disorder  and  confusion.' 

Solomon  knew  all  these  conditions  of  life, 
and  it  was  because  he  knew  them  all,  that  he 
declaimed  against  them;  and  had  you,  like 
him,  known  them  all  by  experience,  you  would 
form  such  an  idea  as  he  did  of  the  whole. 
See  what  a  list  he  makes,  and  observe,  he  says 
that  of  each,  which  he  said  of  the  whole, 
"  this  also  is  vanity."  AVhat!  Is  it  vain  to 
possess  great  riches?  Yes.  "  He  that  lovetli 
silver  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  silver;  this  is 
also  vanity."  What!  Is  it  vain  to  become  a 
celebrated  author,  a  model  of  erudition'    Yes, 


SfiR.  LX.] 


OF  HAPPINESS. 


63 


says  he,  of  makinff  many  books  "  there  is  no 
end,  and  mucli  study  is  a  weariness  of  the  flesh. 
This  also  is  vanity.  Vanity  of  vanities,  saith 
the  preacher,  all  is  vanity." 

4.  To  reflections  on  the  experience  of  Solo- 
mon add  your  own,  and  to  tliis  purpose  recol- 
lect the  hisloi-y  of  your  life.  Remember  the 
time  when  sigfiing  and  wisliin^  for  the  condi- 
tion»in  wiiich  Providence  has  since  placed  you, 
you  considered  it  as  the  centre  of  felicity,  and 
verily  tiiought,  could  you  obtain  that  state  you 
should  wisii  for  nothing'  more.  You  have  ob- 
tained it.  Do  you  think  now  as  you  did  then? 
You,  who  formerly  had  hardly  enough  to 
subsist  on,  now  possess  enough  for  your  subsis- 
tence, and  almost  enoujrh  for  your  wishes, 
have  you  less  inclination  now  to  augment  your 
superfluities  than  you  had  then  to  acquire  a 
maintenance? 

You,  who  have  been  raised  from  the  mean- 
est and  most  obscure  employment  in  society  to 
one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  brilliant  of- 
fices, do  you  feel  yourself  less  disposed  to  have 
no  equal,  than  you  did  formerly  to  have  few 
masters? 

You,  who  are  now  come  to  manhood  through 
a  sickly  youth,  in  which  you  did  not  expect  to 
live  half  your  days,  have  you  less  desire  to  ar- 
rive at  a  hoary  old  age,  than  you  had  formerly 
to  advance  to  manhood? 

Realize  all  tiie  fanciful  schemes  of  happiness 
that  revolve  in  your  minds,  and  you  will  find, 
that  the  good  things  you  actjuire  will  leave  you 
as  hungry,  and  as  void,  as  these  do  which  you 
actually  possess;  and  tiiat  the  more  you  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  this  supposition,  the  more  will 
you  be  astonished  at  the  e.xact  conformities 
there  are  between  conditions  which  at  first  sight 
appear  to  you  so  extremely  different. 

III.  From  all  these  reflections  what  conse- 
quences shall  we  draw?  That  all  conditions 
are  absolutely  equal?  That  as  they  who  actu- 
ally enjoy  tlie  most  desirable  advantages  of 
life,  ought  to  consider  them  with  sovereign 
contempt,  so  people  who  are  deprived  of  them, 
ought  not  to  take  any  pains  to  acquire  thein, 
and  to  better  their  condition?  No,  my  bretliren, 
God  forbid  we  should  preach  a  morality  so  aus- 
tere, and  so  likely  to  disgrace  religion. 

On  the  one  hand,  tiicy  to  whom  God  has 
granted  tlie  good  things  of  this  life  ought  to 
know  the  value  of  thepi,  and  to  observe  with 
gratitude  the  dirterence  wliich  Providence  has 
made  between  tliem  and  others.  Worldly 
prosperity,  I  grant,  is  not  the  most  substantial 
good;  however,  it  is  not  an  imaginary  advan- 
tage: it  is  not  indeed  that  permanent  good 
which  will  continue  ours  after  deatli;  but  it  is, 
however,  capable  of  rendering  the  present  state 
more  agreeable. 

Do  you  enjby  liberty?  Liberty  is  a  great 
good:  feel  the  pleasure  of  liberty.  Behold  the 
man  who  is  enclosed  in  lofty  and  impenetrable 
walls;  who  breathes  only  an  infectious  and  un- 
wholesome air;  who  lies  on  straw  in  a  dun- 
geon, and  who,  with  the  utmost  attention  and 
pains,  can  hardly  perceive  a  ray  of  light,  and 
bless  God  that  you  are  not  in  the  condition  of 
that  man. 

Are  you  rich?  Wealth  is  a  great  good:  en- 
joy the  pleasure  of  being  rich.  Behold  the 
man  loaded  with  debts,  destitute  of  friends, 


pursued  by  inexorable  creditors;  having  indeed 
just  enough  to  keep  himself  alive  to-day,  but 
not  knowing  how  he  shall  support  life  to-mor- 
row, and  bless  God  you  are  not  in  the  condition 
of  that  man. 

Do  you  enjoy  your  health?  Health  is  a  great 
good:  relish  the  pleasure  of  being  well.  Ob- 
serve the  man  lying  on  a  sick  bed,  unable  to 
bear  up  a  body  loaded  with  infirmities,  not  able 
to  move  himself  witiiout  excruciating  sensa- 
tions of  pain,  crawling  towards  the  grave  by 
the  horrible  road  of  the  gout  or  the  stone. 

Notiiing  but  a  fund  of  stupidity  or  ingrati- 
tude can  render  us  insensible  to  temporal  bless- 
ings, when  it  pleases  God  to  bestow  them  on 
us.  What!  Did  you,  as  soon  as  you  opened 
your  eyes,  see  yourself  crowned  with  a  thou- 
sand advantages;  did  God  seem  to  take  plea- 
sure in  making  your  condition  a  composition 
of  honour,  wealth,  and  pleasure;  did  you  find 
yourself,  without  contributing  to  it  the  least 
labour  or  attention,  abundantly  supplied  with 
every  thing  that  can  render  life  easv  and  deli- 
cious; and  because,  carry  human  felicity  to 
what  pilch  you  will,  there  is  nothing  perfect  in 
it,  do  you  give  up  yourself  to  grief  and  melan- 
choly, does  a  dark  and  gloomy  temper  within 
you  triumph  over  all  the  motives  that  ought 
to  insjjire  you  vvitli  gratitude  and  joy? 

As  they,  to  whom  Providence  has  granted 
the  comforts  of  life,  ought  to  know  the  value 
of  them,  and  to  enjoy  them  witli  gratitude,  so 
it  is  allowable,  3'ea  it  is  the  duty  of  such  as 
are  deprived  of  tliem  to  endeavour  to  acquire 
them,  to  meliorate  their  condition,  and  to  pro- 
cure in  future  a  condition  more  happy  than 
that  to  which  they  have  hitiierto  been  con- 
demned, and  which  has  caused  thorn  so  many 
difliculties  and  tears.  Self-love  is  the  most 
natural  and  lawful  of  all  our  passions.  We 
ougiit  not  to  neglect  to  acquire  any  good,  ex- 
cept the  possession  of  it  would  be  incompatible 
with  tJiat  of  a  greater  good,  and  we  ought  not 
to  consent  to  sufler  any  ills,  except  enduring 
them  would  prevent  greater  ills.  But,  other 
tilings  being  equal,  every  one  ought  to  endea- 
vour to  procure  himself  an  agreeable  condition 
of  life  in  this  world. 

Besides  the  love  of  our  neighbour,  the  duty 
so  much  enforced  by  our  great  Lawgiver,  the 
love  which  our  Master  requires  us  to  extend 
as  far  to  our  neighbour  as  to  ourselves,  this 
duty  engages  us  to  avail  ourselves  of  all  the 
innocent  means  whicli  are  oflered  to  us  to  ac- 
quire the  good  things  of  this  life.  The  more 
riclies  you  have,  the  more  able  will  you  be  to 
assist  the  indigent.  Tlie  higlier  you  are  ele- 
vated in  society,  the  more  will  you  have  it  in 
your  power  to  succour  the  oppressed.  The 
more  learning,  and  knowledge,  and  accuracy 
you  have,  the  more  will  it  be  in  your  power  to 
press  liome  the  duties  of  religion,  to  defend  the 
truth,  and  to  display  the  beauty  and  advantage 
of  virtue. 

Our  design,  in  restraining  your  projects,  is 
to  engage  you  patiently  to  bear  the  inconve- 
niences of  your  present  condition,  when  j'ou 
cannot  remedy  them;  because  whatever  differ- 
ence there  may  seem  to  be  between  the  most 
happy  and  the  most  miserable  mortal  in  this 
world,  there  is  much  less,  all  things  considered, 
than  our  misguided  passions  imagine. 


u 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


[See.  LXI. 


Our  design,  in  checking  the  immodcrato  in- 
clination wo  have  to  contrive  fanciful  schemes 
of  ha|)i)iiiess,  is  to  niaiie  you  enjoy  with  tran- 
quilhty  such  blessings  as  you  have.  Most  men 
render  themselves  insensible  to  their  present 
advantages  by  an  extravagant  j)a8sion  for  future 
acquisitions.  The  avidity,  with  wiiich  they 
wish  to  acquire  more  riches,  prevents  their 
enjoying  what  they  actually  possess;  the  avidity 
with  which  they  desire  to  obtain  a  station  more 
elevated  in  society,  prevents  their  tasting  the 
pleasure  of  that  in  which  Providence  has  placed 
them.  In  a  word,  our  design  is  to  engage  you 
to  proportion  the  ])ains  you  take  to  obtain 
worldly  advantages  to  the  true  value  of  them. 

Above  all,  the  design,  the  chief  design  we 
have  in  denouncing  a  vain  and  unsati.sfactory 
being  in  tliis  world,  is  to  engage  you  to  seek 
after  a  happy  futurity  in  the  presence  of  God; 
to  engage  you  to  expect  from  the  blessings  of 
a  future  state  what  you  cannot  promise  your- 
self in  this.  And  what,  my  soul,  canst  thou 
expect  during  the  short  period  of  this  life,  if  the 
remainder  will  resemble  the  past,  if  in  future 
years  thy  condition  will  resemble  that  of  the 
former  days,  if  thou  must  pass  through  the 
same  vicissitudes,  suffer  the  same  maladies,  be 
witness  to  the  same  injustice,  see  the  same  in- 
fidelity, and  the  same  perfidy.' 

But  if  all  mankind  ought  to  preserve  them- 
selves from  the  disorder  of  fanciful  schemes  of 
future  pleasure,  they  above  all  are  bound  to 
do  so,  who  are  arrived  at  old  age,  when  years 
accumulated  bring  us  near  tlie  infirmities  of 
declining  life,  or  a  dying  bed.  Such  a  man 
ought  to  say  to  himself,  Wliat  can  I  henceforth 
expect  in  this  world.'  Should  an  unlicard-of 
revolution  happen  in  my  favour,  should  the 
face  of  the  universe  be  changed,  should  all  the 
advantages  of  the  world  unite,  and  present 
themselves  to  me,  what  benefit  could  I  derive 
from  tliem? 

What  advantage  could  I  derive  from  a  well- 
furnished  table.'  I,  whose  ])alate  has  lost  the 
faculty  of  tasting  and  relishing  food?  What  ad- 
vantage could  1  derive  from  a  numerous  levee? 
I,  to  whom  company  is  become  a  burden,  and 
who  am  in  a  maimer  a  burden  to  myself?  What 
advantage  '  could  I  derive  from  elegant  apart- 
ments, and  extensive  landscapes;  I,  whose  eyes 
are  incapable  of  discerning  objects,  whose  body, 
almost  motionless,  is  confined  to  an  easy  chair, 
or  a  sick  bed?  In  one  word,  what  benefit  can 
I  reap  from  a  concurrence  of  all  the  advantages 
of  life,  I,  who  am  within  a  few  steps  of  the 
gates  of  death?  Happy!  wlien  my  life  comes 
to  an  end,  to  be  able  to  incorporate  my  ex- 
istence with  that  of  the  immortal  (Jod!  Happy! 
when  1  feel  tliis  earthly  tabernacle  sink,  to  be 
able  to  exercise  that ^iti^Â,  which  isan  "  evidence 
«f  things  not  seen!"  llap[>y  to  ascend  to  that 
"city,  which  hatii  foundations,  whose  builder 
and  maker  is  God!"  Heb.  xi.  I.  10. 

May  we  all,  my  dear  brethrcMi,  live,  grow 
old,  and  die  in  these  sentiments!  (iod  grant  ns 
the  grace.  To  him  to  be  honour  and  glory  for 
ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXI. 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


ECCLESIASTES  ii.  17. 

/  haled  life,  because  the  vork  that  is  wrought 
under  the  sun  is  grievous  itnto  me. 
Werk  we  to  estimate  life  by  the  idea  which 
Solomon  gives  of  it  in  the  words  of  the  text,  it 
should  seem  there  was  very  little  wisdom  in 
our  congratulating  one  another,  this  morning, 
on  begimiing  a  new  year.  There  sliould  seem 
better  reasons  for  deploring  our  fate,  because 
we  are  alive,  than  for  congratulating  one 
another  on  the  happiness  of  seeing  anotiier 
new  year's  day.  Ye  desolate  families,  in  which 
death  has  made  such  cruel  breaches!  I  think, 
while  this  day  naturally  brings  to  your  remem- 
brance those  dear  parts  of  yourselves,  you 
ought  rather  to  shed  tears  of  joy  than  sorrow! 
And  you,  "  Rachel,  weeping  for  your  children," 
you  ought  rather  "  to  be  comforted  for  the 
children"  that  are,  than  for  those  that  "  are 
not."  It  should  seem  that  the  benedictions  of 
the  servant  of.  God,  who  preceded  us  this 
morning  in  this  pulpit,  and  to  which  we  are 
going  to  join  ours,  were  very  unsuitable  to  the 
tender  affections  we  owe  you,  and  to  which 
this  solemnity  adds  a  new  degree  of  activity 
and  force. 

Long  may  you  live,  said  we  this  morning  to 
one  another;  may  God  bless  you,  your  fellow- 
citizens,  your  relations,  your  friends,  and  your 
children,  long  may  they  live!  I'^^njoy  the  bless- 
ings of  peace,  prosperity  in  commerce,  stability 
in  freedom,  riches  and  plenty  in  abundance! 
Attain,  and,  if  it  be  possible,  go  beyond  the 
usual  limits  of  the  life  of  man,  and  may  every 
day  of  that  life  be  distinguished  by  some  new 
prosperity.  These  were  the  benedictions  and 
prayers  which  our  friends  uttered  to  us  and  we 
to  them.  And  yet  the  Wise  Man  tells  us,  that 
riches  and  plenty,  that  the  best  established  li- 
berty and  the  most  prosperous  trade,  that  the 
blessings  of  peace  and  all  the  advantages  of  this 
life,  are  nothing  but  vanity.  He  does  more, 
after  he  had  experienced  all  the  pomp  of 
worldly  grandeur,  and  inmiensity  of  wealth, 
the  utmost  refinement,  of  pleasure,  and  the 
most  extensive  reputation,  after  he  had  been 
the  ha])])iest  mortal  that  ever  lived  upon  earth, 
he  tells  us  in  the  words  of  tiie  text,  "  I  hated 
life,  because  the  work  that  is  wrought  under 
the  sun  is  grievous  unto  me." 

What  then,  must  we  revoke  the  congratula- 
tions of  this  morning?  Do  we  come  to  pray  to 
CJiid  to  send  out  iiis  destroying  angels  to  return 
us  that  mortality  which  has  been  ravaging  our 
towns  and  provinces?  Are  we  come  to  collect 
all  our  prayers' into  tliis  one  of  .lonah,  "O 
Lord,  take,  I  beseech  thee,  my  life  from  me,  for 
it  is  better  for  me  to  die  than  to  live,"  chap. 


Preaclicd  uii  llie  first  day  of  the  year  1728. 


Ser.  LXL] 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


65 


iv.  3;  or,  in  this  of  Elijah,  "  It  is  cnougli,  now, 
O  Lord,  take  away  my  life,  for  I  am  not  Ijctter 
than  my  fathers!"  1  Kings  xix.  4. 

It  is  this  contrast  of  i(le;is  that  wc  will  en- 
deavour to  reconcile,  for  in  this  point  of  lijjiit 
we  are  goinn-  to  consider  the  words  of  tlie  text, 
and  to  treat  of  disgust  with  the  world  and  con- 
teni[)t  of  life.  Happy!  if  we  be  aiile  hy  any 
observations  of  ours  to  abate  the  as|)crity  of 
your  minds  in  regard  to  tlio  hateful  things  of 
life,  and  to  engage  you  to  make  a  holy  use  of 
every  thing  agreeable  in  it.  Happy!  if,  by 
turning  your  attention  to  the  amiable  side  of 
life,  we  may  inspire  you  witii  gratitude  to  <îod 
for  preserving  it,  in  spite  of  the  many  perils  to 
which  it  is  exposed;  and  if,  by  sliowmg  you 
the  other  side,  we  may  incline  you  to  quit  it 
with  joy,  whenever  it  shall  ])leaso  God  to  re- 
quire it.  This  is  the  substance  of  all  our  ac- 
clamations and  prayers  in  your  favour  to-day. 
Almighty  and  most  merciful  God,  condescend 
to  ratify  in  heaven  what  wc  are  sincerely  en- 
deavouring to  efl'ect  on  earth!     Amen. 

I  suppose  it  is  Solomon  himself  who  ppeaks 
the  words  of  my  text,  and  not  any  one  of  the 
interlocutors,  whom  he  introduces  in  his  book. 
I  suppose  that  he  expresses  in  the  words  his 
own  sentiments,  and  not  those  of  any  other 
person;  and  that  he  tells  us  not  what  he  thought 
while  his  reason  was  wandering,  and  he  was 
pursuing  the  vanities  of  the  world,  but  what 
he  thought  after  his  recovery,  and  when  he 
was  under  the  direction  of  divine  wisdom. 

This  observation  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  understanding  of  the  text.  The  great  dif- 
ficulty of  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes  is  owing  to 
the  great  variety  of  persons  who  are  introduced 
there,  each  of  whom  proposes  maxims  con- 
formable to  his  own  principles.  Is  it  the  same 
man,  who  says  in  one  place,  "  Go  thy  way, 
eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and  drink  thy  wine  with 
a  merry  heart.  Live  joyfully  all  the  days  of 
thy  vanity,  for  that  is  thy  portion  in  this  life, 
and  God  now  accepteth  thy  works,"  chap.  i.x. 
7.  9;  and  in  another  place,  "  Rejoice,  O  yoimg 
man,  in  thy  youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of 
thy  heart:  but  know  thou,  that  for  all  these 
things  God  will  bring  thee  to  judgment?"  chap, 
xi.  9.  Is  it  the  sauie  man,  who  says  in  one 
place,  "  I  commended  mirth,  because  a  man 
hath  no  better  thing  under  the  sun  than  to  eat, 
and  to  drink,  and  to  be  merry,"  cliaj).  viii.  15; 
and  in  another  place,  "  I  said  of  laughter,  it  is 
mad;  and  of  mirth,  what  doth  it'"  (thap.  ii.  2. 
Is  it  the  same  man,  who  says  in  one  place, 
*'  The  dust  shall  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was, 
and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave 
it,"  chap.  xii.  7;  and  in  another  place,  "  The 
dead  have  no  more  a  reward,  for  the  memory 
of  them  is  forgotten:  to  him  that  is  joined  to 
all  the  living  there  is  hope,  but  the  dead  know 
not  any  thing,  for  a  living  dog  is  better  than  a 
dead  lion?"  chap.  ix.  4,  &c. 

Expositors  of  this  book,  perhaps,  have  not 
always  paid  a  sufficient  attention  to  this  variety. 
Which  of  us  has  not,  for  example,  quoted 
against  the  doctrine  of  invocation  of  saints  these 
words,  "The  living  know  that  they  shall  die, 
but  the  dead  know  not  any  thing;  their  love, 
and  their  hatred  is  now  perished,  neither  have 
they  any  more  a  portion  for  ever  in  any  thing 
that  is  done  under  the  sun?"  chap.  i.v.  6,  6. 
Vol.  11.— I) 


Yet  I  think  we  have  sufficient  reasons  to  pre- 
sume, that  the  Wise  Man  puts  these  words  into 
tlie  mouth  of  a  libertine,  so  that  though  they 
contain  a  truth,  yet  they  cannot  be  proposed 
in  i)r<iof  of  a  doctrine.  I  suppose  we  must  en- 
tertain the  same  idea  of  another  pa.ssage,  which 
seems  to  estahli.'ih  one  of  the  finest  maxims  of 
morality,  "  Whatsoever  tliy  hand  findeth  to  do, 
do  it  with  thy  might,  for  there  is  no  work,  nor 
device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom  in  the 
grave  whither  thou  goest,"  chap.  ix.  10.  But 
if  you  consider,  that  this  is  a  consequence 
drawn  from  the  irony  just  before,  "  Go,  eat  thy 
bread  with  joy,  and  drink  tl)y  wine  with  a 
merry  heart,"  ver.  7,  you  will  suppose,  as  we 
do,  that  it  contains  a  pernicious  maxim,  like 
tiiat  mentioned  by  the  prophet,  "  let  us  eat 
and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  shall  die,"  Isa. 
xxii.  13. 

There  are  other  inspired  books,  as  well  as 
this  of  Ecclesiastes,  subject  to  the  same  misin- 
terpretation. Under  pretence  that  the  Scrip- 
ture is  divinely  inspired,  people  quote  texts  in- 
discriminately. C'ertainlj'  it  is  divinely  inspired, 
and  for  this  reason  we  should  always  reject 
such  maxims  as  would  tend  to  defeat  the  de- 
sign of  it.  Without  this  precaution  you  may 
prove  by  Scripture  things  the  most  opposite  to 
the  design  of  Scripture;  you  may  prove  that 
God  has  violated  his  promises,  because  it  is 
said  in  Scrijture,  "where  is  the  promise  of  his 
coming?"  Or  you  may  prove  that  atheism  is 
preferable  to  religion,  because  the  Scripture 
says,  "there  is  no  God;"  and  so  by  a  hundred 
other  passages  you  may  prove  a  hundred  simi- 
lar absurdities. 

But  the  connexion  of  our  text  with  preceding 
and  following  verses,  and  its  perfect  harmony 
with  the  design  of  the  Wise  Man,  which  was 
to  decry  the  world  and  its  pleasures,  and  by  his 
own  experience  to  undeceive  such  as  made  idols 
of  them,  confirm,  in  my  opinion,  the  judgment 
we  have  formed  of  them;  the  whole  authorizes 
us  to  consider  the  words  as  proceeding  from  the 
mouth  of  Solomon  himself,  expressive  of  his 
own  sentiments  and  not  those  of  others,  and 
what  he  thought  after  his  reconversion,  and  not 
what  his  opinion  was  during  his  dissipation. 

I.  On  this  principle,  we  will  first  rid  the  text 
of  several /rtfce  meanings,  which  it  may  seem  at 
first  sight  to  countenance;  for  as  there  is  a  dis- 
gust witii  the  world,  and  a  contempt  of  life, 
which  wisdom  insi)ires,  so  there  is  a  hatred  of 
tlie  world  that  arises  from  evil  dispositions.  We 
may  be  disgusted  with  life  from  a  principle  of 
melancholy — from  a  principle  of  misanthropy 
— from  a  principle  of  discontent — and,  which  is 
still  more  singular,  we  may  be  disgusted  with 
the  world  through  an  excessive  esteem  for  the 
world,  and  hate  life  through  a  too  violent  at- 
tachment to  it. 

1.  We  may  hate  life  because  we  are  vielan- 
choly.  Only  he,  whose  ideas  are  disconcerted 
by  a  dark  and  gloomy  temper,  can  say  fully  and 
without  qualification,  "  I  hate  life."  To  attri- 
bute such  a  disposition  to  the  Wise  Man  is  to 
insult  the  Holy  Spirit  who  animated  him.  All 
the  advantages  of  life,  I  grant,  cannot  procure 
us  perfect  happiness,  yet  every  one  may  procure 
us  some  satisfaction,  transient  but  real,  provided 
we  enjoy  each  with  such  moderation  as  wisdom 
prescribes.     Instead  of  exclaiming  in  melan- 


66 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


[Ser.  LXI. 


choly  mood  against  society,  "  What  friends! 
What  friendships!"  Enjoy  tlie  innocent  plea- 
sures of  society,  and  you  will  find  that  they  can 
contribute  to  suspend  your  pain,  to  dissipate 
your  anxieties,  and  to  relieve  your  wearisome 
attention  to  your  misfortunes.  Instead  of  ex- 
claiminsj  ajrainst  fortune,  and  saying,  "  Riches 
and  honours,  what  are  they  good  for?"  Enjoy, 
as  far  as  justice  and  benevoionce  will  allow,  the 
advantages  of  fortune,  and  you  will  e.xperience 
that  they  may  procure  you  some  agreeable  ac- 
conmiodations,  which  you  are  permitted,  yea 
commanded  to  relish.  Instead  of  exclaiming 
against  reputation,  and  saying,  "  What  doth  it 
signify  to  be  known  and  esteemed  among  man- 
kind?" Enjoy  the  advantages  of  reputation, 
and  you  will  experience  some  satisfaction  in 
being  respected  by  intelligent  persons  in  society. 
Though,  in  general,  the  world  is  unjust  in  esti- 
mating ability  and  virtue,  yet  there  are  many 
rational  members  of  society,  who  know  how  to 
distinguish  gold  from  tinsel,  and  real  ability 
from  parade. 

2.  Some  are  disgusted  with  life  from  a  prin- 
ciple of  misanthropy.  What  is  a  misanthrope, 
or  a  hater  of  mankind?  He  is  a  man,  who 
avoids  society  only  to  free  himself  from  the 
trouble  of  being  useful  to  it.  He  is  a  man,  who 
considers  his  neighbours  only  on  the  side  of 
their  defects,  not  knowing  the  art  of  combining 
their  virtues  with  their  vices,  and  of  rendering 
the  imperfections  of  other  people  tolerable  by 
reflecting  on  his  own.  He  is  a  man  more  em- 
ployed in  finding  out  and  inflicting  punishments 
on  the  guilty  than  in  devising  means  to  reform 
them.  He  is  a  man,  who  talks  of  nothing  but 
banishing  and  executing,  and  who,  because  he 
thinks  his  talents  are  not  sutliciently  valued  and 
employed  by  his  fellow-citizens,  or  rather,  be- 
cause they  know  his  loii)le,  and  do  not  choose 
to  be  subject  to  his  capricC,  talks  of  (piilting 
cities,  towns,  and  societies,  and  of  living  in  dons 
or  in  deserts.  Intercourse  with  mankind  is  dis- 
agreeable, you  say.  Very  well,  I  grant  it. 
But  do  you  know  what  would  make  it  infinitely 
more  disagreeable?  I  will  tell  you.  It  would 
be,  if  all  the  members  of  society  were  animated 
with  your  spirit.  What  a  .society  would  that 
be,  which  siioiild  be  compo.sed  of  people  with- 
out charity,  without  patience,  without  con- 
descension! 

My  text  does  not  inculcate  such  sentiments 
as  these.  The  Wise  Man  had  met  with  a  great 
many  disagreeable  events  in  society  which  had 
given  him  a  great  deal  of  pain,  but,  far  from 
being  driven  out  of  it,  he  continued  to  reside  in 
the  world,  and  to  amend  and  imj)rove  it  by  iiis 
wise  counsel  and  good  e.vample.  Head  the 
Book  of  I'roverlis,  and  this  of  Ecclesiasles,  and 
observe  how  he  endeavours  to  preserve  society 
from  damage  by  exposing  the  snares  into  which 
he  himself  iiad  fallen.  Behold,  being  converted 
himself,  he  endeavours  to  "strengthen  his  bre- 
thren, and  to  teach  transgrcs.sors  the  ways  of 
God!"  How  accurately  does  he  describe  all 
conditions  of  life!  Witii  what  charity  does  he 
condescend,  if  1  may  venture  to  speak  so,  from 
the  cedars  of  Leban<jn  to  the  hyssoj)  upon  the 
wall,  so  that  tiiere  is  no  profession  so  mean, 
nor  any  man  so  obscure  in  his  profession,  that 
he  does  not  either  direct  or  improve.  L)isgu.st 
with  the  world  should  never  prevent  our  as- 


sisting the  inhabitants  of  it,  and  our  contempt 
of  life  should  always  be  accorapaiiied  with  cha- 
rity for  the  living. 

3.  Sometimes  a  spirit  of  discontent  prodwces 
disgust  with  the  world,  and  contempt  of  life. 
To  hear  the  people  I  mean,  one  would  think  it 
was  impossible  that  this  world  should  be  go- 
verned by  a  wise  Being,  because,  forsooth,  they 
are  doomed  with  the  rest  of  mankind  to  live  in 
a  valley  of  trouble.  But  who  art  thou,  thou 
miserable  man,  to  conceive  ideas  so  false,  and 
to  form  opinions  so  rash!  Learn  to  know  thy- 
self, .and  to  do  thyself  justice!  If  thou  shouldst 
be  required  by  the  rigorous  judgment  of  God 
to  expiate  thy  crimes,  it  would  not  be  in  the 
vanity  of  this  world,  it  would  be  in  the  flames 
of  hell!  It  would  not  be  in  the  S(x:iety  of  men, 
faithless  in  trade,  inconstant  in  friendship,  in- 
sipid in  conversation,  troublesome  in  applica- 
tion, perfidious  in  contracts,  it  would  be  in  the 
society  of  the  devil  and  his  angels!  It  would 
not  be  in  the  narrow  comjiass  of  this  life,  the 
brevity  of  which  may  be  justly  compared  to  a 
vapour  lost  in  the  air,  a  flower  fading  in  the 
sun,  a  dream  vanishing  in  the  morning,  it  will 
be  in  a  succession  of  ages,  in  the  boundless  gulfs 
of  eternity. 

4.  I  said  finally,  my  brethren,  that  we  were 
sometimes  disgusted  with  the  world  through  an 
excess  of  fondness  for  the  world,  and  hated  life 
through  an  over  valuation  of  it.  "  Oh  heart  of 
man,  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked!"  Jer.  xvii.  9.  Who  would  not  think, 
to  hear  some  men  exclaim,  "  Ah  human  life,  I 
only  wish  to  free  myself  from  thy  connexions, 
and  thou,  wicked  world,  I  detest  thee!"  Who 
would  not  think  that  these  people  were  con- 
vinced of  the  vanity  of  the  world!  But  unde- 
ceive yourselves.  Man  enters  the  world  as  an 
enchanted  place.  While  the  charm  lasts,  the 
man  I  speak  of  is  in  raptures,  and  thinks  he  has 
found  the  supremo  good.  He  imagines  that 
riches  have  no  wings,  that  splendid  fortune  has 
no  reverse,  that  the  great  have  no  caprice,  that 
friends  have  no  levity,  that  health  and  youth 
are  eternal:  but  as  it  is  not  long  before  he  re- 
covers his  senses,  he  becomes  disgusted  with 
the  world  in  the  same  pro|>oition  as  he  had 
been  infatuated  with  it,  and  his  hatred  of  life  is 
exactly  as  extravagant  as  his  love  of  it  had 
been;  that  is  to  sa}',  the.se  sentiments,  which 
seem  so  just  and  respectable,  do  not  proceed 
from  serious  rellections  on  the  viinvs,  which  an 
immortal  soul  ought  to  have:  that  is  to  .say,  you 
Would  have  consented  to  renounce  all  hopes  of 
future  happiness,  and  to  be  for  ever  separated 
from  God,  had  not,  the  spring  of  your  life  passed 
away  with  so  mucii  rapidity,  had  your  conn«!.\- 
ions  been  more  durable,  had  your  interest  at 
court  been  better  su|>porled. 

How  pitiable  is  your  condition!  In  it  you 
unite  the  misfortunes  of  time  with  the  miseries 
of  eternity.  You  disclaim  both  heaven  and 
earth,  you  are  disgusted  with  the  vanity  of  the 
one,  and  you  have  no  taste  for  the  other.  A 
worldling  indemnifies  himself  by  present  enjoy- 
ments t'oT  the  loss  of  future  bliss,  of  which  he 
has  no  prospect;  anil  a  Christian  indemnities 
himself  by  enjoying  pleasures  in  prospect  for 
the  loss  of  sensual  delights;  but  you!  at  what  do 
you  aspire?  Your  condition  is  the  height  of 
misery,  as  it  is  the  height  of  absurdity. 


Ser.  LXI.] 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


67 


It  is  not  in  any  of  these  senses  that  the  Wise 
Man  says,  "  I  hated  Hfc,  because  tlie  work  that 
is  wrought  under  the  sun  is  grievous  unto  mo." 
He  would  have  us  understand,  that  tlie  earth 
has  more  thorns  than  flowers — that  our  condi- 
tion here,  tiiough  incomparably  better  than  we 
deserve,  is  iiowever  inadequate  to  our  just  and 
constitutional  desires — that  our  inconveniences 
in  this  life  would  seem  intolerable,  unless  we 
were  wise  enough  to  direct  thein  to  the  same 
end  that  (Jod  proposed  by  e.\[K)siiig  us  to  sutler 
tlinm — in  a  word,  that  nothing  but  hope  in  a 
future  state  formed  on  another  ])laii  can  reiidc^r 
the  disorders  of  this  world  tolerai)le.  So  nmch 
may  serve  to  expUdn  the  meaning  of  the  Wise 
Man. 

II.  IjCt  us  now  proceed  to  justify  the  sense 
given,  and  to  this  I  shall  devote  the  remainder 
of  this  discourse,  and  all  the  moments  of  atten- 
tion which  we  shall  take  the  liberty  to  retjuire 
of  you. 

I  will  make  use  of  no  artifice  to  obtain  my 
end.  I  will  not  affect,  in  order  to  detach  you 
from  the  world,  to  e.vhibit  only  the  odious  things 
of  the  world;  nor  will  1  combat  an  excessive 
love  of  life  by  opposing  against  it  the  ])ains  and 
the  miseries  of  the  living;  but  I  mean  to  attack 
your  idols  in  their  fiirt,  to  decry  life  by  showing 
its  most  amiable  sides,  and  to  endeavour  to  dis- 
gust you  with  the  world  by  exposing  the  most 
desirable  olijects  in  it. 

The  phantoms  tli.at  seduced  Solomon  during 
his  dissipation  may  be  reduced  to  two  classes. 
The  first  suppose  in  the  dissipated  man  very 
little  knowledge,  and  very  little  taste;  and  it  is 
astonishing  that  a  man  so  eminently  endowed 
with  knowledge  could  set  his  heart  upon  them. 
The  second  may  more  easilv  impose  on  an  en- 
lightened and  generous  mind.  In  tlie  first  class 
I  place  riches,  grandeur,  and  voluptuousness, 
with  all  their  appendages.  If  these  be,  as  they 
certainly  are,  the  most  conmion  idols  of  man- 
kind, it  is  for  a  reason  inglorious  to  them,  it  is 
because  most  men  have  very  little  knowledge 
and  very  little  taste. 

The  world  has  phantoms  more  specious,  life 
has  charms  more  capable  of  seducing  a  generous 
heart,  and  of  imposing  on  a  liberal  mind.  I 
put  these  into  three  classes.  In  tlie  first  I  put 
the  advantages  of  science — in  the  second  the 
pleasures  of  friendship — in  the  third  the  privi- 
leges, I  mean  the  temporal  privileges  of  virtue 
and  heroism.  I  will  endeavour  to  unmask  these 
three  figures,  and  to  prove,  that  the  very  dis- 
positions whicli  sliould  contribute  most  to  the 
pleasure  of  life,  mental  abilities,  tenderness  of 
heart,  rectitude  and  delicacy  of  conscience,  are 
actually  dispositions  which  contribute  most  of 
all  to  imbitter  life. 

1.  If  ever  possession*  could  make  man  happy, 
Solomon  must  certainly  have  been  the  happiest 
of  mankind.  Imagine  the  most  proper  and  the 
most  effectual  means  of  acquiring  knowledge, 
joined  to  an  avidity  to  obtain  it,  both  were 
united  in  the  person  of  this  prince.  We  indi- 
viduals, when  we  have  received  from  Heaven 
abilities  for  science,  we  generally  want  assist- 
ance to  cultivate  them.  What  individual  is 
able  to  send  emissaries  into  distant  climes  to 
make  observations  to  perfect  geography,  physic, 
astronomy,  botany,  navigation.'  An  individual, 
to  make  collections,  to  ascertain  reports,  to 


procure  materials,  must  carry  on  works,  which, 
in  a  word,  more  properly  belong  to  the  beasts 
of  burden  of  the  learned  world  than  to  himself, 
wiiose  time  should  be  better  employed  in  exer- 
cising, and  improving  his  own  natural  abilities. 
An  individual  seldom  has  it  in  his  power  to 
gain  access  to  the  museinns  of  great  men,  and 
to  procure  the  productions  of  their  pens,  or  to 
consult  the  oracles  that  j)roceed  from  tlieir 
mouths.  An  individual  is  of"ten  rondenmed  to 
turn  the  studies  that  naturally  employ  his  libe- 
ral mind  into  a  mercenary  trade,  the  only 
means  of  providing  bread  for  himself  and  his 
family.  In  some  protestant  states  youth  are 
but  half  educated  fi)r  want  of  endowments,  and 
jK'ople  choose  rather  to  pluck  the  unripe  fruits 
of  the  finest  genius  than  to  furnish  him  with 
the  means  of  bringing  them  to  perfection.  A 
king,  a  rich  king  like  Solomtm,  is  free  from  all 
these  dilhculties.  He  has  all  the  assistance 
necessary  to  the  cultivation  of  his  mind,  and 
to  the  full  gratification  of  his  avidity  fiir  science. 
I  le  sa)-s,  what  perliajis  you  have  not  sntficiently 
observed,  "  1  turiKid  myself  to  behold  wisdom," 
that  is,  1  applied  myscdf  to  the  sciences,  and 
"  what  can  the  man  do  that  cometh  after  the 
king?"  chap.  ii.  \2.  That  is,  who  will  ever 
have  such  innumerable  means  of  acipiiring  and 
pcrli'Cting  knowledge  as  those  with  which  royal 
advantages  furnish  mc.' 

Accordingly  the  world  was  filled  with  the 
science  of  this  prince,  and  his  science  has  given 
occasion  to  a  great  many  fabulous  histories. 
To  him  has  been  attributed  a  book  entitled  the 
"  Contradiction  of  Solomon,"  condemned  by 
Pope  Gelasius,  and  other  works  named  "  In- 
chantments,  clavicula,  necromancy,  ideas,  neo- 
maenia,  letters  to  king  Hiram."  Some  ancient 
fathers  thought  tliat  the  pagan  philosophers 
had  read  his  writings,  and  that  Aristotle  in 
partifuilar  had  taken  his  "  History  of  animals" 
from  the  works  of  this  prince.  Josephus  says, 
that  he  composed  a  "book  of  charms"  to  heal 
the  incurable,  and  that  one  Eleazar,  a  Jew, 
had  found  in  it  a  secret,  by  which  he  freed  a 
person  from  pos.session,  a  reverie  mentioned  by 
Origen.  The  schoolmen  have  agitated  a  great 
many  indiscreet  que.stions  concerning  the 
science  of  Solomon,  and  have  inquired,  whe- 
ther he  were  more  learned  than  the  angels  and 
the  Virgin  Mary;  and  they  have  persuaded 
themselves  not  only  that  he  was  a  great  poet, 
a  great  physician,  and  a  great  astronomer,  but 
also  that  he  understood  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
theology  of  the  schools,  and  was  well  acquaint- 
ed with  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation. 

We  have  better  evidence  of  the  science  of 
Solomon  than  these  visionaries.  The  Scrip- 
ture itself  informs  us,  that  God  "gave  him  a 
wise  and  an  understanding  heart,  so  that  there 
was  none  like  him  before,  neither  af\er  him 
should  any  arise  like  unto  him,"  I  Kings  iii. 
I -2;  that  he  was  "  wiser,"  that  is  a  greater  phi- 
losopher, "  than  all  the  children  of  the  east 
country,  and  all  the  Egyptians,"  chap.  iv.  30, 
31.  I5y  the  children  of  the  east  we  understand 
the  Arabian  philosophers,  Chaldeans,  and  the 
Persians,  so  famous  for  their  erudition,  and 
particularly  for  their  profound  knowledge  of 
astronomy.  He  was  wiser  than  all  the  Egyp- 
tians, that  is,  the  most  consummate  doctors  of 
Egypt,  a  country  famous  in  the  time  of  Moses 


68 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


[Ser.  LXI. 


for  its  literature,  ciilled  by  the  pagans  the  mo- 
ther of  arts,  and  who  boasted  that  they  first  of 
all  men  knew  how  to  take  dimensions  of  tlie 
stars,  and  tu  calculate  their  motions,  as  Macru- 
bius,  Dioilorus  of  Sicily,  and  many  other  au- 
thors aliirni.  The  Scripture  says  that  Solomon 
was  "  wiser  than  Ethan,  Heman,  Chalcol,  and 
Darda:"  names  which  the  Jews  understand  in 
a  mystical  sense,  meaning  by  Ethan  Abraham, 
by  Heman  Moses,  and  Chalcol  Joseph.  The 
Scripture  says  farther,  that  he  composed 
*' three  thousand  proverbs,  and  a  thousand  and 
five  songs;  tliat  he  spake  of  trees,  from  tiie  ce- 
dar tree  that  is  in  Lebanon,  even  unto  the  hys- 
sop, that  springclh  out  of  the  wall,  also  of 
beasts,  and  of  fowl,  and  of  creeping  things, 
and  of  fishes,"  vcr.  32,  33.  Some  of  tliese 
works  are  a  part  of  the  canon  of  Scripture,  but 
the  rest  are  lost. 

Now  what  says  this  great  man  concerning 
science?  He  acknowledges  indeed  that  it  was 
preferable  to  ignorance,  "  the  wise  man's  eyes," 
says  he,  "  are  in  his  head,"  that  is,  a  man  of 
education  is  in  possession  of  some  prudential 
maxims  to  regulate  his  life,  whereas  an  illite- 
rate man  "  walketh  in  darkness:"  but  yet  says 
he  "  it  happeneth  even  to  me,  as  it  happeneth 
to  the  fool,  and  why  was  1  then  wise?"  ver.  15. 
And  again,  "  the  eye  is  not  satisfied  with  see- 
ing, nor  tiie  car  filled  with  hearing;  for  in 
much  wisdom  is  mucii  grief,  and  he  that  in- 
creaseth  knowledge  increasetii  sorrow,"  chap. 
j.  8.  18.  So  again,  in  another  place,  after  he 
had  proposed  some  rules  for  the  government 
of  life,  he  adds,  "  My  son  bo  admonished  by 
these,  for  of  making  many  books  there  is  no 
end,  and  nmch  study  is  a  weariness  of  the 
flesh,"  chap.  ,\ii.  1-'.  I  wisli  I  could  weigh 
every  expression.  Observe  however  two  im- 
perfections of  science. 

1.  Observe  first  the  llllle  progress  made  in 
science  by  tiiose  who  pursue  it  to  the  highest 
pitch.  As  they  advance  in  this  immense  field 
they  discover,  shall  1  say  new  exleiils,  or  new 
abysses,  which  they  can  never  fitlioin.  Tlic 
more  they  nourish  themselves  with  this  ricli 
pasture,  the  more  keen  do  their  a[)pelites  be- 
come. "  The  eye  is  never  satisfied  with  see- 
ing, nor  the  ear  with  hearing,  and  of  making 
many  books  there  is  no  end." 

2.  Remark  ne.\t  the  iUlle  justice  done  in  the 
world  to  such  as  excel  most  in  science.  "  He 
tliat  increascth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow, 
and  it  happeneth  even  to  me  as  it  happeneth 
to  a  fool."  Yes!  after  you  have  spent  all  your 
youth,  after  you  have  impaired  your  health, 
after  you  have  spent  your  fortune  to  improve 
your  own  mind,  and  to  enable  you  to  improve 
those  of  other  men,  "  it  will  happen  to  you 
even  as  it  ha|)pcneth  to  a  fool."  You  will  be 
told,  that  sciences  have  nothing  in  them  that 
deserve  the  attention  of  a  man  of  quality.  A 
man  of  mean  extraction,  who  carries  himself 
like  a  lord,  will  tell  you  that  a  man  of  birth 
ought  to  aspire  at  sometliing  more  noble  than 
meditating  on  questions  of  law,  studying  cases 
of  conscience,  and  explaining  holy  Scripture. 
You  will  be  told,  that  there  is  not  half  the 
knowledge  required  to  s|)arklo  in  |)olitical  bo- 
dies, and  to  decide  on  a  bench  the  lives,  and 
fortunes,  and  honours  of  mankind.  Presump- 
tuous youtha  will  judge,  and  without  appeal 


condemn  your  discourses  and  your  publications, 
and  will  pronounce  with  decisive  tone  this  is 
not  solid,  that  is  s^iptrficial!  The  superiority  of 
your  understanding  will  raise  up  against  you  a 
world  of  ignorant  peojde,  who  will  say,  that 
you  corrujjt  the  youtli,  because  you  would 
guard  them  against  prejudice;  that  you  stab 
orthodoxy,  because  you  endeavour  to  heal  the 
wounds  which  pedantry  and  intolerance  have 
given  it;  that  you  trouble  society,  because  you 
endeavour  to  purify  morality,  and  to  engage 
the  great  as  well  as  the  small,  magistrates  as 
well  as  people,  to  submit  to  its  holy  laws. 
They  will  prefer  before  you,  both  in  the  state 
and  in  the  church,  novices  who  are  hardly  fit 
to  l>e  your  disciples. 

Blessed  idiots!  You,  who  surrounded  with  a 
circle  of  idiots  like  yourselves,  having  first 
slupified  yourselves  with  your  own  vanity,  are 
now  intoxicated  with  the  incense  oficred  your 
admirers;  you,  who,  having  collected  a  few 
bombastic  phrases,  are  spreading  the  sails  of 
your  eloquence,  and  are  bound  for  the  ocear» 
of  glory:  you,  whose  sublime  nonsense,  stale 
common-places,  and  pedantic  systems,  have 
acquired  you  such  a  reputation  for  learning 
and  erudition  as  is  due  only  to  real  merit:  your 
condition  seems  to  me  often  preferable  to  that 
of  first-rate  geniuses,  and  most  accomplished 
scholars!  All!  "  Wisdom  is  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit — of  making  many  books  there  is 
no  end — it  liapjHîneth  even  to  me  as  it  happen- 
eth to  the  fool — there  is  no  remembrance  of 
the  wise  more  than  of  the  fool,  for  all  shall  be 
forgotten — therefore  I  hated  life,  because  the 
work  that  is  wrought  under  the  sun  is  grievous 
unto  me." 

2.  The  second  disposition,  which  seems  as  if 
it  would  contribute  nmch  to  the  pleasure  of 
life,  but  which  often  embitters  it,  is  teiulerruss  of 
heart.  Let  the  sacred  names  of  friendship  and 
tenderness  never  coine  out  of  some  mouths;  let 
tliem  never  be  used  by  profane  people  to  ex- 
press certain  connexions,  which  far  from  hav- 
ing tho  reality  have  not  even  the  appearance 
of'rational  sensibility!  Would  you  give  these 
names  to  such  vague  associations  as  are  formed 
only  because  you  are  a  burden  to  yourselves; 
to  connexions  in  which  the  sentiments  of  the 
heart  have  no  share,  in  which  nothing  is  in- 
tended except  the  mutual  performance  of  some 
capricious  customs  or  the  assuaging  of  some 
criminal  passions,  to  the  impetuosity  of  which 
you  liice  brute  beasts  are  given  up?  Would 
you  give  tlicse  names  to  those  unpleasant  in- 
terviews, in  which  while  you  visit,  you  inward- 
ly groan  under  tho  necessity  of  visiting,  in 
which  the  mouth  protests  what  the  heait  de- 
nies, in  which,  while  you  outwardly  profess  to 
be  affected  with  tiie  misfortunes  of  another, 
you  consider  them  inwardly  with  inditference 
and  insensibility,  and  while  you  congratulate 
theiu  on  the  prosperity  which  Providence  be- 
stows, you  cn\y  their  condition,  and  sometimes 
regard  it  with  a  malice  and  mortification  you 
cannot  help  discovering? 

By  friendship  and  tenderness,  I  mean  those 
affectionate  attachments  produced  by  a  secret 
sympathy,  which  virtue  cements,  which  piety 
sanctifies,  which  a  mutual  vigilance  over  each 
other's  interests  confirms  with  indissoluble,  I 
had  almost  said  eternal,  bonds.     I  call  a  friend 


Skr.  LXI.] 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


69 


an  inestimable  treasure  which  might  for  a 
while  render  our  abode  on  earth  as  liap|)y  as 
that  in  heaven,  did  not  that  wise  Providence, 
that  formed  us  for  heaven  and  not  for  earth, 
refuse  us  tiie  ])ossession  of  it. 

It  is  clear  by  the  writings  of  Solomon,  and 
more  so  by  the  history  of  his  life,  that  his  heart 
was  very  accessible  to  this  kind  of  i)leasure. 
How  often  does  he  write  encomiums  on  faith- 
ful friends!  "  A  friend,"  says  he,  "  lovcth  at 
all  times,  he  is  a  brother  born  for  adversity.  A 
friend  sticketh  closer  than  a  hrotlier,"  Prov. 
xvii.  17,  and  xviii.  2-1.  But  wiiere  is  this 
friend,  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.' 
Where  is  this  friend,  who  loveth  at  all  times? 
One  would  tiiink  the  Wise  Man  drew  the  por- 
trait only  to  save  us  the  useless  labour  of  in- 
quiring after  the  original.  Perhaps  3'ouare  in- 
capable of  tasting  tlie  bitterness  of  friendship, 
only  because  you  are  incapable  of  relishing  the 
sweetness  of  it. 

What  friends  do  we  make  upon  earth?  At 
first  lively,  eager,  full  of  ardour:  presently  dull, 
and  disgusted  through  the  ease  with  which  they 
had  been  gratified.  .  At  first  soft,  gentle,  all 
condescension  and  compliance:  presently  mas- 
ters, imperious  tyrants,  rigorously  exacting  as 
a  debt  an  assiduity  which  can  arise  only  from 
inclination,  pretending  to  domineer  over  our 
reason,  after  they  have  vitiated  our  taste.  At 
first  attentive  and  teachable,  while  prejudices 
conceal  their  imperfections  from  us,  ready  to 
acquiesce  in  any  thing  while  our  sentiments 
are  conformable  to  their  inclinations:  but  pre- 
sently intractable  and  frovvard,  not  knowing 
how  to  yield,  though  we  gently  point  out  their 
frailty,  and  endeavour  to  assist  them  to  correct 
it.  At  first  assiduous,  faithful,  generous,  while 
fortune  smiles  on  us:  but  presently,  if  she  be- 
tray us,  a  thousand  times  more  faithless,  un- 
grateful, and  perfidious  than  she.  What  an 
airy  phantom  is  human  friendship! 

I  wish,  however,  through  the  favour  of  hea- 
ven, that  what  is  only  an  airy  nothing  to  other 
men  may  become  a  reality  in  regard  to  you, 
and  I  will  take  it  for  granted,  that  you  have  I 
found  what  so  many  others  have  souglit  in 
vain.  Alas!  I  must,  yes,  here  I  must  deplore 
your  destiny.  Multiplied,  so  to  speak,  in  the 
person  of  that  other  self,  you  are  going  to  mul- 
tiply your  troubles.  You  are  going  to  feel  in 
that  other  self  ills  which  hitherto  you  have  felt 
only  in  yourself.  You  will  be  disgraced  in  his 
disgraces,  sick  in  his  sicknesses.  If  for  a  few 
years  you  enjoy  one  anotiier,  as  if  each  were 
a  whole  world,  presently,  presently  death  will 
cut  the  bond,  presently  death  will  dissolve  the 
tender  ties,  and  separate  your  entwined  hearts. 
Then  you  will  iind  yourself  in  a  universal  soli- 
tude. You  will  think  the  whole  world  is  dead. 
The  universe,  the  whole  universe,  will  seem  to 
you  a  desert  uninhabited,  and  uninhabitable. 
Ah!  You  wlio  experience  this,  shall  I  call  you 
to  attest  these  sorrowful  truths?  Shall  I  open 
again  wounds  which  time  has  hardly  closed? 
Shall  I  recall  those  tremulous  adieus,  those 
cruel  separations,  which  cost  you  so  many  re- 
grets and  tears?  Shall  I  expose  to  view  bones, 
and  infection,  and  putrefaction,  the  only  re- 
mains of  him  who  was  your  support  in  trouble, 
your  counsel  in  difficulty,  your  consolation  in 
adversity? 


Ah,  charms  of  friendship,  delicioua  errors, 
lovely  chimeras,  you  are  infinitely  more  capa- 
ble of  deceiving  than  of  satisfying  us,  of  poi- 
soning life  than  of  sweetening  it,  and  of  mak- 
ing us  break  with  tiie  world  than  of  attaching 
us  to  it!  My  soul,  wouldst  tliou  form  unalter- 
able connexions!  Set  thy  love  upon  thy  trea- 
sure, esteem  God,  obey  his  holy  voice,  which 
from  tl)e  highest  heavens  says  to  thee,  "  Give 
me  thine  heart!"  In  God  thou  wilt  find  a  love 
fixed  and  faithful,  a  love  beyond  the  reach  of 
temporal  revolutions,  wliicli  will  follow  thee, 
and  fill  t!ice  with  felicity  for  ever  and  ever. 

3.  in  fine,  I  will  venture  to  affirm,  that  if 
any  thing  seems  cajiablo  to  render  life  agree- 
ble,  and  if  any  tiling  in  general  renders  it 
disagreeable,  it  is  rectitude,  and  ddicacy  of 
conscience.  I  know  Solomon  seems  here  to 
contradict  himself,  and  the  author  of  the  Book 
of  Proverbs  seems  to  refute  the  author  of  the 
Book  of  Ecclesiastes.  The  author  of  the 
Book  of  Ecclesiastes  informs  us,  that  virtue 
is  generally  useless,  and  sometimes  hurtful 
in  this  world:  but  according  to  the  author  of 
the  Book  of  Proverbs  virtue  is  most  useful  in 
this  world.  Hear  the  author  of  Ecclesiastes. 
"  All  things  have  I  seen  in  the  days  of  my  vani- 
ty: there  is  a  just  man  that  perisheth  in  his 
righteousness,  and  there  is  a  wicked  man  that 
prolongeth  ]:is  life  in  his  wickedness.  All 
things  come  alike  to  all,  there  is  one  event  to 
the  righteous  and  to  the  wicked;  to  him  that 
sacrificeth,  and  to  him  that  sacrificeth  not: 
as  is  the  good  so  is  the  sinner;  and  he  that 
sweareth,  as  he  that  feareth  an  oath,  chap, 
vii.  15.  ix.  2.  Hear  the  author  of  the  Book  of 
Proverbs.  "  My  son,  forget  not  my  law:  but 
let  thy  heart  keep  my  commandments;  for 
length  of  days,  and  long  life,  and  peace  shall 
they  add  to  thee.  Let  not  mercy  and  truth 
forsake  thee:  bind  them  about  thy  neck, 
write  them  upon  the  table  of  thine  heart.  So 
shalt  thou  find  favour,  and  good  understand- 
ing in  the  sight  of  God  and  man.  Happy  is 
the  man  that  findeth  wisdom,  and  the  man 
that  getteth  understanding.  For  the  mer- 
chandise of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandise 
of  silver,  and  the  gain  thereof  than  fine  gold. 
She  is  more  precious  than  rubies;  and  all  the 
things  thou  canst  desire  are  not  to  be  compar- 
ed with  her,"  chap.  iii.  1 — 3.  13 — 15. 

How  shall  we  reconcile  these  things?  To 
say,  as  some  do,  that  the  author  of  Proverbs 
speaks  of  the  spiritual  rewards  of  virtue,  and 
the  author  of  Ecclesiastes  of  the  temporal 
state  of  it,  is  to  cut  the  knot  instead  of  unty- 
ing it.  Of  many  solutions,  which  we  have  no 
time  now  to  examine,  there  is  one  that  bids 
fair  to  remove  the  difficulty;  that  is,  that 
when  the  author  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs 
makes  temporal  advantages  the  rewards  of 
virtue,  he  speaks  of  some  rare  periods  of  so- 
ciety, whereas  tlie  author  of  Ecclesiastes  de- 
scribes the  common  general  state  of  things. 
Perhaps  the  former  refers  to  the  happy  time, 
in  which  the  example  of  the  piety  of  David 
being  yet  recent,  and  ihc  prosperity  of  his 
successor  not  having  then  infected  either  the 
heart  of  the  king  or  the  morals  of  his  subjects, 
reputation,  riches,  and  honours,  were  bestow- 
ed on  good  men:  but  the  second,  probably, 
speaks  of  what  came  to  pass  soon  after.     In 


70 


DISGUST  WITH  LIFE. 


[Ser.  LXI. 


the  first  period  life  was  amiable,  and  living  in 
the  world  delicious:  but  of  the  second  the 
Wise  Man  says,  "  I  hated  life  because  the 
work  that  is  wrought  under  the  sun  is  griev- 
ous unto  me." 

To  wliich  of  thé  two  periods  does  the  age 
in  which  we  live  belong?  Judge  by  tlie  de- 
scription given  by  the  preacher  as  he  calls  him- 
self. 

Then  mankind  were  ungrateful,  the  public 
did  not  remember  the  benefits  conferred  on 
them  by  individuals,  and  their  services  were 
unrewarded.  "Tliere  was  a  little  city  be- 
sieged by  a  great  king,  who  built  great  bul- 
warks against  it,  and  there  was  found  in  it  a 
poor  wise  man,  who  by  his  wisdom  delivered 
the  city,  yet  no  man  remembered  that  same 
poor  man,"  chap.  ix.  14,  15. 

Then  courtiers,  mean  and  ungrateful,  base- 
ly forsook  their  old  master,  and  paid  their 
court  to  the  heir  apparent.  "  I  saw  all  tlie 
living  under  the  sun  walking  after  the  child, 
who  shall  stand  up  next  instead  of  the  king,"* 
chap.  iv.  15. 

Then  strong  oppressed  the  weak.  "  I  con- 
sidered all  the  oppressions  that  are  done  un- 
der the  sun,  and  behold,  the  tears  of  such  as 
were  oppressed,  and  they  had  no  comforters, 
and  on  the  side  of  their  oppressors  there  was 
power,  but  they  had  no  comforter." 

Then  the  courts  of  justice  were  corrupt.  "  I 
saw  the  place  of  judgment,  tiiat  wickedness 
was  there"  .  .  .  chap.  iii.  16.  We  will 
not  finish  this  disagreeable  picture.  -"  I  hated 
life,  because  the  work  that  is  wrought  under 
the  sun  is  grievous  unto  me." 

Such  is  the  idea  the  Wise  Man  gives  us  of 
the  world.  Yet  these  vain  and  precarious  ob- 
jects, this  world  so  proper  to  inspire  a  rational 
mind  with  disgust,  this  life  so  proper  to  e.\cite 
hatred  in  such  as  know  what  is  worthy  of  es- 
teem, this  is  that  which  has  always  fascinated, 
and  which  yet  continues  to  fascinate  the  bulk 
of  mankind. 

This  it  was  that  infatuated  the  inhabitants 
of  the  old  world,  who,  even  after  God  had 
pronounced  this  dreadful  decree,  "  My  spirit 
shall  not  always  strive  with  man,  for  he  is 
flesh,  and  after  a  hundred  and  twenty  years 
he  shall  be  no  more,"t  forgot  themselves  in  tiie 
pursuit  of  present  pleasure,  "  They  were  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage, until  the  day  that  tlie  flood  came,  and 
took  them  all  away,"  Matt.  xxiv.  38,  39. 

This  was  what  bewitched  tlje  wiiolo  hea- 
then world,  who  lived  "  without  hope,  and 
without  God  in  the  world,"  Epli.  ii.  12. 

This  was  what  enchanted  that  highly  favour- 
ed nation,  which  God  distinguislied  from  the 
rest  of  t!ie  world,  and  to  vvhicii  he  gave  liis 
laws,  and  intrusted  liis  propiiecies,  yet  tliey 
"  forsook  tlie  fountain  of  living  waters,  and 

*  The  tense  given  (o  this  passage  by  our  author  is 
agreeable  both  to  the  French  version,  and  to  the  origi- 
nal. J'  ai  oui  toxit  les  vivitns  qui  marctioU  sous  le  so- 
Uel  après  I'  enfant,  ijui  est  la  seconde  personne  qui  doit 
être  en  la  place  du  roi.  Per  puerum  secunilum  intcllige, 
regis  filiuin  et  hxredem,  «juud  a  rege  sucuudus  est,  ac 
po<t  cum  regnaturus.     Poli.  Synopii.  lu  loc. 

f  Oen.  vi.  3.  The  sense  given  by  Mr.  Saurin  is  that  of 
many  commentators,  and  seems  preferable  lu  our  English 
text,  which  is  obscure,  Accipiuot  dc  spatio  pœnilcutia: 
isti  setati  coocciio,  &c. 


hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken  cisterns,  that 
can  hold  no  water,"  .1er.  ii.  13. 

This  was  what  influenced  Christians,  more 
inexcusable  in  this  respect  than  Jews  and  Pa- 
gans, because  their  religion  breatiies  nothing 
but  disgust  with  the  world,  and  alienation 
from  the  idols  of  life:  and  yet  they  are  as 
much  in  love  with  worldly  splendour,  as  eager 
in  pursuit  of  wealth,  as  nmch  intoxicated 
with  diversions,  gaming,  amusements,  and  dis- 
sipations, as  ever  Jews  and  Pagans  could  pos- 
sibly be. 

This  was  the  charm  that  operated  on  your 
ancestors;  on  those  who  governed  tlie  state 
before  you,  magintrates:  on  tiiose  who  ascend- 
ed this  pulpit  before  you,  ministers:  on  those 
who  attended  the  worsliip  of  God  in  this  place 
before  you,  Christian  people:  all  these,  except 
a  few,  followed  the  multitude,  ran,  with  the 
world,  to  the  same  excess  of  riot,  and  made 
the  world  their  god,  just  as  we  all,  except  a 
few,  yet  make  tlie  world  our  god,  yet  follow 
the  multitude,  yet  run  with  the  wicked,  to  the 
same  excess  of  riot. 

God,  in  order  to  undeceive  mankind,  and  to 
dissolve  the  cliarms  that  fascinated  their  eyes, 
often  showed  them  tiic  world  in  its  true  light. 
He  often  added  extraordinary  ills  to  the  ordinary 
calamities  of  life;  he  made  winds  his  angels, 
and  flaming  fires  his  ministers,"  Ps.  civ.  4;  he 
sent  war,  mortality,  flaming  eruptions,  pesti- 
lence, and  earthquakes:  in  a  word,  he  often 
visited  them,  as  he  yet  visits  us,  and  with  the 
same  design.  To  them  he  says,  as  he  yet  says 
to  us,  "  Love  not  the  world,  neither  llie  tilings 
that  are  in  the  world.  Vanity  of  vanities,  all 
is  vanity.  Fear  God,  and  keep  his  command- 
ments, for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man,"  1 
John  ii.  15;  Eccles.  i.  2,  and  xiii.  13.  All  this 
was  useless,  just  as  it  is  now.  Then  man- 
kind made  a  god  of  the  world,  and  so  they 
continue  to  do. 

My  brethren,  taste  is  not  subject  to  argu- 
ment, and  if  life  seems  to  you  supremely  ami- 
able in  spite  of  all  the  imperfections  and  sins 
that  imbitter  it,  in  vain  do  I  stand  here  de- 
scribing it  10  you.  However,  condescend  at 
least  to  see  whither  every  living  thing  is  tend- 
ing; and  allow  me  to  perform  the  duty  of  this 
day,  which  requires  mo  to  treat  of  the  dying  and 
the  dead.  A  modern  author  has  published  a 
book  with  tliis  singular  title,  "  Subterranean 
Rome,"  a  title  full  of  instruction  and  truth, 
a  title  that  may  serve  to  teach  that  living 
haughty  city,  that  tiiere  is  another  Rome 
dead  and  buried,  a  natural  image  of  what  tlie 
present  Rome  must  sliorlly  be.  Such  an  ob- 
ject I  present  to  you.  1  present  you  your  re- 
public, not  tiie  ri'pulilic  you  see  comjiosed  of 
living  niagislrati's,  generals,  and  heads  of  fami- 
lies; this  is  siipcitit:ial,  the  surface  of  your  re- 
public: but  I  would  fix  your  eyes  on  an  interior 
subterranean  republic.  Tlicre  is  il  state  under 
your  feet.  Go  down,  go  into  tiie  cells  under 
the  eartli.  Lift  up  tlio  lids  of  the  coffins. 
Wiiat  do  you  see  tliere,  wiial  have  you  found 
tliere?  My  God!  What  inliabitanls:  What 
citizens!     What  a  republic! 

Tins  is  not  all.  Go  farther.  Carry  your 
eyes  beyond  lliese  caverns.  Exercise  that 
faith  which  gives  substance  to  things  not  seen. 
Think  of  the  souls  which  once  animated  this 


Ser.  LXIL] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


71 


dust,  and  ashes,  and  bones.  Where  are  they? 
Some  are  in  a  state  of  felicity,  others  in  depths 
of  misery.  Some  in  the  bosom  of  God,  others 
in  prison  with  devils.  Some  drinking  of  rivers 
of  pleasures  for  evermore,  others  having  their 
portion  in  the  lake  of  fire,  the  smoke  rising 
up  for  ever  and  ever,  Ps.  xxxvi.  8,  and  xvi. 
1 1;  and  Rev.  xix.  3.  To  say  all  in  one  word, 
some  for  abandoning  themselves  to  the  world 
are  suffering  such  punishments  as  the  world 
inflicts  on  its  slaves:  and  others  for  devoting 
themselves  to  God,  are  receiving  such  rewards 
as  God  bestows  on  his  servants.  May  this 
contrast  penetrate,  affect,  and  transform  you 
all!  And  thou,  great  God,  give  weight  to  our 
exhortation.^,  in  order  to  give  success  to  our 
benedictions! 

I  gladly  embrace  the  opportunity  of  assist- 
ing at  this  solemnity,  of  coming  to  you,  my 
dear  brethren,  at  this  auspicious  season,  and  of 
preaching  to  you,  now  that  it  is  allowable  to 
open  the  bottom  of  a  heart  always  full  of  most 
respectful  affection  fortius  city  and  thischurch.* 
Receive  my  good  wishes  as  afiectionately  as 
they  are  dictated. 

lilagistrates,  to  whom  Providence  has  com- 
mitted the  reins  of  government,  you  are  above 
our  benediction.  But  we  are  ministers  of  a 
Master  who  governs  all  mankind,  and  from  that 
source  of  splendour,  magnificence,  and  wealth, 
we  derive  the  benedictions,  which  we  diti'use 
on  your  august  heads.  May  God  inspire  you 
with  that  elevation  of  mind,  that  magnanimity, 
and  holy  ambition,  which  impel  magistrates, 
with  wiiom  he  has  intrusted  the  sword  of  jus- 
tice, to  found  all  their  deliberations  and  decrees 
on  equity!  May  God  inspire  you  with  such 
charity,  condescension,  and  affability,  as  may 
blend  the  parent  with  the  master!  May  God 
inspire  you  with  such  humility  and  self-denial 
as  incline  Christian  magistrates  to  lay  their 
power  at  the  feet  of  the  great  Supreme,  and  to 
place  their  glory  in  rendering  to  God  a  faithful 
account  of  their  administration!  (ireat  will 
that  account  be.  You  are,  to  a  certain  degree, 
responsible  both  for  the  temporal  and  eternal 
happiness  of  this  people.  The  eternal  happi- 
ness of  a  people  often  depends  on  the  conduct 
of  their  governors,  on  the  care  they  take  to 
restrain  licentiousness,  to  supi>ress  scandalous 
books,  to  make  solemn  festivals  observed,  to 
procure  wise,  zealous,  and  faithful  ministers 
for  the  church.  Magistrates,  who  enter  into 
these  noble  designs,  have  a  right  to  expect  from 
God  all  the  assistance  necessary  to  cflect  them. 
To  thee.  Almighty  God,  we  address  our  prayers 
for  such  assistance  for  these  illustrious  persons! 
O  that  our  petitions  may  enter  heaven,  and 
our  prayers  be  heard  and  answered! 

Ministers,  my  dear  coadjutors  in  the  great 
work  of  salvation,  successore  of  the  apostles  in 
the  work  of  the  ministry  "  for  the  edifying  of 
the  body  of  Christ!"  p]ph.  iv.  1-',  God  has  set 
narrow  limits  to  what  the  world  calls  our  prefer- 
ment and  fortune.  The  religion  we  profess 
does  not  allow  us  to  aspire  after  such  high- 
sounding  titles,  eminent  posts,  and  splendid 
equii)ages,  as  confound  the  minister  of  tempo- 
ral kings  with  the  ministers  of  that  Jesus  whose 
"  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world:"  but  what  we 


Of  Rotterdam. 


lose  in  regard  to  the  glittering  advantages  of 
the  world,  wo  gain  in  regard  to  real  and  sub- 
stantial advantages;  if  we  ourselves  understand 
that  religion  which  we  teach  others,  and  if  we 
feel  the  spirit  of  that  calling,  with  which  God 
has  honoured  us.  May  God  grant,  may  the 
God  who  has  honoured  us,  grant  us  such 
knowledge  and  virtue  as  are  essential  to  the 
worthy  discharge  of  our  duty!  May  he  bestow 
all  that  intrepidity,  which  is  always  necessary 
to  resist  tiie  enemies  of  our  holy  reformation, 
and  sometimes  those,  who  under  the  name  of 
reformed,  endeavour  to  counteract  and  destroy 
it!  May  he  support  us  under  the  perpetual 
contradictions  we  meet  with  in  the  course  of 
our  ministry,  and  invigorate  us  with  the  hopes 
of  those  high  degrees  in  glory,  which  await 
such  as  "  turn  many  to  rigliteousness,  who 
shall  shine  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever!" 
Dan.  xii.  3. 

Merchants,  you  are  the  pillars  of  this  re- 
public, and  you  are  the  means  of  our  enjoying 
prosperity  and  plenty.  May  God  continue  to 
bless  your  commerce!  May  he  cause  winds 
and  waves,  nature,  and  every  element,  to  unite 
in  your  favour!  Above  all,  may  God  teach 
you  the  holy  skill  of  placing  your  "  heart  where 
your  treasure  is;"  of  making  yourselves  friends 
of  the  "  mammon  of  unrighteousness,"  Matt, 
vi.  21;  Luke  xvi.  9;  of  sanctifying  your  pros- 
perity by  your  charity,  especially  on  such  a 
day  as  this,  in  which  we  should  make  con- 
science of  paying  a  homage  of  love  to  a  "  God 
who  is  love,"  and  whose  goodness  has  brought 
us  to  sec  this  day. 

Fathers  and  mothers  of  families,  with  whom 
I  have  the  honour  and  happiness  of  joining 
myself,  may  God  help  us  to  consider  our  chil- 
dren not  merely  as  formed  for  this  world,  but 
as  intelligent  and  immortal  beings  made  for 
eternity!  May  God  grant,  we  may  be  infi- 
nitely more  desirous  to  see  them  happy  in 
heaven  than  prosperous  on  earth!  May  God 
continue  these  children,  so  necessary  to  the 
pleasure  of  our  lives,  to  our  last  moments! 
God  grant,  if  wc  be  required  to  give  them  up 
to  the  grave,  we  may  have  all  tlie  submission 
thai  is  necessary  to  sustain  such  violent  shocks. 

My  brethren,  this  article  cuts  the  thread  of 
my  discourse.  May  God  answer  all  the  prayers 
I  have  uttered,  and  that  far  greater  number 
which  I  have  suppressed!     Amen. 


SERMON  LXIL 


THE  PASSIONS. 


1  Peter  ii.  2. 

Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech  you  as  strangers  and 
pUgrhns,  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts,  tchich  tear 
against  the  soul. 

The  words  you  have  heard,  my  brethren, 
offer  four  subjects  of  meditation  to  your  minds. 
First,  the  nature  of  the  passions — secondly,  the 
disorders  of  tliem — thirdly,  the  remedies  to  be 
applied — and  lastly,  the  motives  that  engage 
us  to  subdue  them.  In  the  first  place  we  will 
give  you  a  general  idea  of  what  the  apostle 
calls  "fleshly  lusts,"  or  in  modern  style  the 


7» 


THE  PASSIONS. 


[Ser.  Lxn. 


passions.  We  will  examine  secondly,  the  war 
which  they  wa^e  "against  the  soul."  Our 
third  part  will  inform  you  of  the  means  of  ab- 
gtaining  from  these  fleshly  lusts.  And  in  the 
last  place  we  will  endeavour  to  make  you  feel 
the  power  of  this  motive,  "  as  strangers  and 
pilgrims,"  and  to  press  home  this  exhortation 
of  the  apostle,  "  Dearly  beloved,  I  beseech  you 
as  strangers  and  pilgrims,  abstain  from  fleshly 
lusts,  which  war  against  the  soul." 

1.  In  order  to  uitderstand  the  nature  of  the 
passions,  we  will  explain  the  subject  by  a  few 
preliminary  remarks. 

1.  An  intelligent  being  ought  to  love  every 
thing  that  can  elevate,  per])etuate,  and  make 
him  happy;  and  to  avoid  whatever  can  degrade, 
confine,  and  render  him  miserable.  This,  far 
from  being  a  human  depravity,  is  a  perfection 
of  nature.  Man  has  it  in  conunon  witii  celes- 
tial intelligences,  and  with  God  himself  This 
reflection  removes  a  false  sense,  which  the 
language  of  St.  Peter  may  seem  at  first  to  con- 
vey, as  if  the  apostle  meant  by  eradicating 
"  fleshly  lusts"  to  destroy  the  true  interests  of 
man.  The  most  ancient  enemies  of  the  Christian 
religion  loaded  it  with  this  reproach,  because 
they  did  not  understand  it;  and  some  super- 
ficial people,  who  know  no  more  of  religion 
than  the  surface,  pretend  to  render  it  odious 
by  the  same  means.  Under  pretence  that  the 
Christian  religion  forbids  ambition,  they  say  it 
degrades  man,  and  under  pretence  that  it  for- 
bids n)isguided  self-love,  they  say  it  makes  man 
miserable.  A  gross  error!  A  false  idea  of 
Chri.«tianity!  If  the  gospel  humbles,  it  is  to 
elevate  us;  if  it  forbids  a  self-love  ill-directed, 
it  is  in  order  to  conduct  us  to  sul)stantial  happi- 
ness. By  "  fleshly  lusts,"  St.  Peter  does  not 
mean  such  desires  of  the  heart  as  put  us  on 
aspiring  after  real  happiness  and  true  glory. 

-'.  An  intelligent  being  united  to  a  body,  and 
lodged,  if  I  may  speak  so,  in  a  portion  of  matter 
under  this  law,  that  according  to  tiie  divers 
motions  of  this  matter  he  shall  receive  sensa- 
tions of  pleasure  or  pain,  must  naturally  love 
to  e.xcite  within  himself  sensations  of  pleasure, 
and  to  avoid  painful  feelings.  This  is  agreea- 
ble to  tiio  institution  of  the  Creator.  He  in- 
tends, for  reasons  of  adorable  wisdom,  to  pre- 
serve a  society  of  mankind  for  several  ages  on 
earth.  To  accomplisli  this  design,  he  has  so 
ordered  it,  that  what  contributes  to  tiie  support 
of  tiio  body  shall  give  the  soul  pleasure,  and 
that  which  would  dissolve  it  would  give  pain, 
so  that  by  these  means  we  may  preserve  our- 
selves. Aliments  are  agreeable;  the  dissolution 
of  the  parts  of  our  bodies  is  painful;  love,  hatred, 
and  anger,  properly  understood,  and  exercised 
to  a  certain  degree,  are  natural  and  fit.  The 
stoics,  who  aimihilated  tiie  passions,  did  not 
know  man,  and  the  schoolmen,  wiio  to  comfort 
people  under  the  gout  or  the  stone,  told  them 
IJKit  a  rational  man  ought  not  to  pay  any  re- 
gard to  what  passed  in  his  body,  never  made 
many  disciples  among  wise  men.  This  observa- 
tion affords  us  a  second  clew  to  the  meaning 
of  llic  apostle:  at  least  it  gives  us  a  second  pre- 
caution to  avoid  an  error.  ]\y  "  fleslily  lusts" 
lie  docs  not  mean  a  natural  inclination  to  pre- 
serve tlie  body  and  the  uase  of  lile;  he  allows 
love,  hatred,  and  anger,  to  a  certain  degree, 
and  as  far  as  the  exercise  of  them  docs  not 


prejudice  a  greater  interest.  Observe  well  this 
last  expression,  as  far  as  may  be  without  preju- 
dice to  a  greater  interest.  The  truth  of  our 
second  reflection  depends  on  this  restriction. 

3.  A  being  composed  of  two  substances,  one 
of  which  is  more  excellent  than  the  other;  a 
being  placed  between  two  interests,  one  of 
which  is  greater  than  the  other,  ought,  when 
these  two  interests  clash,  to  prefer  the  more 
noble  before  the  less  noble,  the  greater  interest 
before  the  less.  This  third  princij)le  is  a  third 
clew  to  what  St.  Peter  calls  "  lusLs,"  or  pas- 
sions. Man  has  two  substances,  and  two  in- 
terests. As  far  as  he  can  without  prejudicing 
his  eternal  interest  he  ought  to  endeavour  to 
promote  his  temporal  interest:  but  when  the 
two  clash  he  ought  to  sacrifice  the  less  to  the 
greater.  "  Fleshly  lusts"  is  put  for  what  is  ir- 
regular and  depraved  in  our  desires,  and  what 
makes  us  prefer  the  body  before  the  soul,  a 
temporal  before  an  eternal  interest.  That  this 
is  the  meaning  of  the  apostle  is  clear  from  his 
calling  these  passions  or  "  lusts  fleshly."  What 
is  the  meaning  of  this  word?  The  Scripture 
generall}'  uses  the  word  in  two  senses.  Some- 
times it  is  literally  and  properly  put  for  flesh, 
and  sometimes  it  signifies  sin.  St.  Peter  calls 
the  passions  "  fleshly"  in  both  these  senses;  in 
the  first,  because  some  come  from  the  body,  as 
voluptuousness,  anger,  drunkenness;  and  in  the 
second,  because  they  spring  from  our  depravity. 
Hence  the  apostle  Paul  puts  among  the 
works  of  the  flesh  both  those  which  have 
their  seat  in  the  body,  and  those  which  have 
in  a  manner  no  connexion  with  it.  "  Now  the 
works  of  the  flesh  are  these,  adultery,  lascivi- 
ousncss,  idolatry,  heresies,  envyings."  Ac- 
cording to  this  the  "  works  of  the  flesh"  are  not 
only  such  as  arc  seated  in  the  flesh  (for  envy 
and  heresy  cannot  bo  of  this  sort,)  but  all  de- 
praved dispositions. 

This  is  a  general  idea  of  the  passions:  but 
as  it  is  vague  and  obscure,  we  will  endeavour 
to  explain  it  more  distinctly,  and  with  thia- 
view  we  will  show — first  what  the  passions  do 
in  the  mind — next  what  they  do  in  the  sense» 
— thirdly,  what  they  are  in  tlie  imagination — 
and  lastly,  what  they  are  in  the  heart.  Four 
portraits  of  the  passions,  four  explications  of 
the  condition  of  man.  In  order  to  connect  the 
matter  more  closely,  as  we  show  you  what 
"  fleshly  lusts"  are  in  these  four  views,  we  will 
endeavour  to  convince  you  that  in  these  four 
respects  they  "  war  against  tlie  soul."  The 
second  part  of  our  discourse  therefore,  which 
was  to  treat  of  the  disorders  of  the  passions, 
will  be  included  in  the  first,  which  explain» 
their  nature. 

1 .  The  passions  produce  in  the  mind  a  strong 
attention  to  whatever  can  justify  and  gratify 
them.  The  most  odious  oi)jects  may  be  so 
placed  as  to  appear  agreeable,  and  the  most 
lovely  objects  so  as  to  appear  odious.  Thero 
is  no  absurdity  so  palpable  but  it  may  be  made 
to  appear  likely;  and  there  is  no  truth  so  clear 
but  it  may  be  made  to  appear  doubtful.  A 
l)a.ssionato  man  fi.xes  all  the  attention  of  his 
mind  on  such  sides  of  objects  as  favour  his  pas- 
sion, and  this  is  the  source  of  innumerable  false 
judgings,  of  which  wo  are  every  day  witnesses 
and  authors. 

If  you  observe  all  the  passions,  you  will  find 


Seii.  LXIL] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


73 


they  have  all  this  character.  What  is  vengeance 
in  the  mind  of  a  vindictive  man?  It  is  a  fixed 
attention  to  all  the  favourable  lijrhts  in  which 
vengeance  tnay  be  considered;  it  is  a  continual 
etudy  to  avoid  every  odious  li<flit  in  which  tlie 
subject  may  be  placed.  On  the  one  side  there 
is  a  certain  deity  in  the  world,  who  has  made 
revenge  a  law.  This  deity  is  worldly  honour, 
and  at  the  bar  of  this  judge  to  forget  injuries  is 
mean,  and  to  pardon  tlwm  cowardice.  On  the 
other  side  vengeance  disturbs  society,  usurps 
the  oHlce  of  a  magistrate,  and  violates  the  pre- 
cepts of  religion.  A  dispassionate  man,  ex- 
amining without  prejudice  this  ([uestion,  Ought 
I  to  revenge  the  injury  I  have  r«!ceivcd?  would 
weio'h  all  these  motives,  consider  each  apart, 
and  all  together,  and  would  determine  to  act 
according  as  the  most  just  and  weighty  rea- 
sons should  determine  him:  but  a  revengeful 
man  considers  none  but  the  first,  he  pays  no 
attention  to  the  last;  ho  always  exclaims  my 
lionour,  my  honour;  he  never  says  my  religion 
and  my  salvation. 

What  is  hatred?  It  is  a  close  attention  to  a 
man's  imperfections.  Is  any  man  free?  Is 
any  man  so  imperfect  as  to  have  nothing  good 
in  hint'  Is  there  nothing  to  compensate  his 
defects.'  This  man  is  not  handsome,  but  he  is 
wise:  his  genius  is  not  lively,  but  his  heart  is 
sincere:  lie  cannot  assist  you  with  money,  but 
he  can  give  you  much  good  advice,  supported 
by  an  excellent  example:  he  is  not  cither  |)rincc, 
king,  or  emperor,  but  he  is  a  man,  a  Christian, 
a  believer,  and  in  all  these  respects  he  deserves 
esteem.  The  passionate  man  turns  away  his 
eyes  from  all  these  advantageous  sides,  and  at- 
tends only  to  the  rest.  Is  it  astonishing  that 
he  hates  a  person,  in  whom  he  sees  nothing 
but  imperfection'  Thus  a  counsellor  opens 
and  sets  forth  his  cause  with  such  artifice  that 
law  seems  to  be  clearly  on  his  side;  he  forgets 
one  fact,  suppresses  one  circumstance,  omits  to 
draw  one  inference,  which  being  brought  for- 
ward to  view  entirely  change  the  nature  of  the 
subject,  and  his  client  loses  his  cause.  In  the 
same  manner,  a  defender  of  a  false  religion 
always  revolves  in  his  mind  the  arguments  that 
seem  to  establish  it,  and  never  recollects  those 
which  subvert  it.  He  will  curtail  a  sentence, 
cut  off  what  goes  before,  leave  out  what  follows, 
and  retain  only  such  detached  expressions  as 
seem  to  countenance  his  error,  but  which  in 
connexion  with  the  rest  would  strip  it  of  all 
probability.  What  is  still  more  singular  is, 
lliat  love  to  true  religion,  that  love,  which, 
under  the  direction  of  reason,  opens  a  wide  field 
of  argument  and  evidence,  engages  us  in  this 
sort  of  false  judging,  when  we  give  ourselves 
up  to  it  through  passion  or  prejudice. 

This  is  what  the  pa.ssions  do  in  the  mind, 
and  it  is  easy  to  comprehend  the  reiison  St. 
Peter  had  to  say  in  this  view,  "  fleshly  lusts 
war  against  the  soul."  Certainly  one  of  the 
noblest  advantages  of  a  man  is  to  reason,  to 
examine  proofs  and  weigh  motives,  to  consider 
an  object  on  every  side,  to  combine  the  various 
arguments  that  are  alleged  either  furor  against 
a  proposition,  in  order  on  these  grounds  to 
regulate  our  ideas  and  opinions,  our  hatred  and 
our  love.  The  passionate  man  renounces  this 
advantage,  he  never  reasons  in  a  passion,  his 
Vol.  II.— 10 


mind  is  limited,  his  soul  is  in  cliains,  his  "fleshly 
passions  war  against  his  soul." 

Having  examined  the  passions  in  the  mind, 
let  us  consider  them  in  the  senses.  To  com- 
I)rehcnd  this,  recollect  what  wo  just  now  said, 
that  tiie  passions  owe  their  origin  to  the  Crea- 
tor, who  instituted  them  for  the  purpose  of 
[)reserving  us.  When  an  object  would  injure 
Iie;ilth  or  life,  it  is  necessary  to  our  safety,  that 
there  should  be  an  emotion  in  our  senses  to 
all'cct  a  quick  escape  from  the  danger;  fear 
does  this.  A  man  struck  with  the  idea  of  sud- 
den danger  has  a  rapidity  which  he  could  not 
have  in  a  tran(|uil  stale,  or  during  a  cool  trial 
of  his  power.  It  is  necessary,  when  an  enemy 
ajiproaches  to  destroy  us,  that  our  senses  should 
BO  move  as  to  animate  us  with  a  power  of  re- 
si-sstance.  Anger  does  this,  for  it  is  a  collection 
of  spirits  ....  but  allow  mo  to  borrow  hero 
the  words  of  a  modern  philosopher,  who  has 
admirably  expressed  the  motions  excited  by  the 
passions  in  our  bodies.  "  Before  the  sight  of 
an  object  of  passion,"  says  he,  "  the  spirits 
were  ditfused  through  all  the  body  to  preserve 
every  part  alike,  but  on  the  appearance  of  this 
new  object  the  whole  system  is  shaken;  the 
greater  part  of  the  animal  spirits  rush  into  ali 
the  exterior  parts  of  the  body,  in  order  to  put 
it  into  a  condition  proper  to  produce  such  mo- 
tions as  are  necessary  to  acquire  the  good,  or 
to  avoid  the  evil  now  present.  If  it  happen 
tliat  the  power  of  man  is  unequal  to  his  wants, 
these  same  spirits  distribute  themselves  so  as 
to  make  him  utter  mechanically  certain  words 
and  cries,  and  so  as  to  spread  over  his  counte- 
nance and  over  the  rest  of  his  body  an  air 
capable  of  agitating  others  with  the  same  pas- 
sion with  which  he  himself  is  moved.  For  as 
men  and  other  animals  are  united  together  by 
eyes  and  ears,  when  any  one  is  agitated  he 
necessarily  shakes  all  others  that  see  and  hear 
him,  and  naturally  produces  painful  feelings  in 
their  imaginations,  which  interest  them  in  his 
relief.  The  rest  of  the  spirits  rush  violently 
into  the  heart,  the  lungs,  the  liver,  and  the 
other  vitals,  in  order  to  lay  aU  these  parts  under 
contribution,  and  hastily  to  derive  from  them 
as  quick  as  possible  the  spirits  necessary  for  the 
preservation  of  the  body  in  these  extraordinary 
efforts."*  Such  are  the  movements  excited  by 
the  passions  in  the  senses,  and  all  these  to  a 
certain  degree  are  necessary  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  our  bodies,  and  are  the  institutions  of 
our  Creator:  but  three  things  are  necessary  to 
preserve  order  in  these  emotions.  First,  they 
must  never  be  excited  in  the  body  without  the 
direction  of  the  will  and  the  reason.  Secondly, 
they  must  always  be  proportional,  I  mean,  the 
emotion  of  fear,  for  example,  must  never  be, 
except  in  sight  of  objects  capable  of  hurting 
us;  the  emotion  of  anger  must  never  be,  except 
in  sight  of  an  enemy,  who  actually  has  both 
the  will  and  the  power  of  injuring  our  well- 
being.  And  thirdly,  they  must  always  stop 
when  and  where  we  will  they  should.  When 
the  passions  subvert  this  order,  they  violate 
three  wise  institutes  of  our  Creator. 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passions  in  ouf 
senses  are  not  free.     An  angry  man  is  carried 


'  Malebranche,  Recherche  de  la  verile  I.  5.  c.  3. 


74 


THE  PASSIONS. 


[Ser.  LXII. 


beyond  liimself  in  spite  ol"  hiinscll'.  A  volup- 
tuous mail  reci'ivL's  a  sensible  impression  from 
an  exterior  olijecl,  and  in  spite  of  ail  the  dic- 
tates of  reason  tiirows  himself  into  a  Uaming 
fire  tliat  consumes  liirn. 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passions  in  our 
«enses  are  not  proportional;  1  mean,  that  a 
timorous  man,  for  exanipli;,  turns  as  pale  at  the 
sight  of  a  fanciful  as  of  a  real  danir(!r;  he  some- 
times tears  a  phantom  and  a  substance  alike. 
A  man  "whose  god  is  his  belly,"  feels  his 
appetite  as  iimch  ex('ited  l)y  a  dish  fatal  to  his 
health  as  by  one  necessary  to  suj)port  his 
strength,  and  to  kccj)  him  alive. 

The  emotions  excited  by  the  passion»  in  our 
senses  do  not  obey  the  orders  of  onr  u'ill.  The 
movement  is  an  ovcrtlow  of  spirits  which  no 
reflections  can  restrain.  It  is  not  a  gentle  fire 
to  cive  the  blood  a  warmth  necessary  to  its 
circulation;  it  is  a  volcano  pouring  out  its  llame 
all  liquiil  and  destructive  on  every  side.  It  is 
not  a  gentle  stream,  i)urling  in  its  projier  bed, 
meandering  through  tlie  fields,  and  moistening, 
refreshing,  and  invigorating  thcin  as  it  goes: 
but  it  is  a  rapid  flood,  breaking  down  all  its 
banks,  carrymg  every  where  mire  and  mud, 
sweeping  away  the  harvest,  subverting  hills  and 
trees,  and  carrying  away  every  thing  on  all 
sides  that  oppose  its  passage.  This  is  what 
the  pas.sions  do  in  the  senses,  and  do  you  not 
conceive,  my  brethren,  that  in  this  second  re- 
spect they  "  war  against  the  soul?" 

They  '•  war  against  the  soul"  by  thedisorders 
they  introduce  into  that  body,  which  they  ought 
to  preserve  They  dissipate  tlie  spirits,  weaken 
the  memory,  wear  out  the  brain.  Behold  those 
trembling  hands,  those  discoloured  eyes,  that 
body  bent  and  bowed  down  to  the  ground; 
these  are  the  effects  of  violent  [Kissions.  Wiien 
the  body  is  in  such  a  state,  it  is  easy  to  con- 
ceive, that  the  soul  suffers  with  it.  The  union 
between  the  two  is  so  close  that  tlie  alteration 
ef  the  one  necessarily  ahers  the  other.  When 
the  capacity  of  the  soul  is  absorbed  by  painful 
sensations,  we  are  incajKible  of  attending  to 
truth.  If  the  spirits,  necessary  to  support  us  in 
meditation,  be  dissipated,  we  can  no  longer 
meditate.  If  the  brain,  which  must  be  of  a 
certain  consistence  to  receive  impressions  of 
objects,  has  lost  that  consistence,  it  can  recover 
it  no  more. 

They  "  war  against  the  soul"  by  disconcert- 
in'»  the  whole  economy  of  man,  and  by  making 
him  consider  such  sensations  of  pleasure  as 
Providence  gave  him  only  for  tlie  sake  of  en- 
gaging him  to  preserve  his  body  as  a  sort  of 
supreme  good,  worthy  of  all  his  care  and  atten- 
.  tion  for  its  own  sake. 

Thiîy  "  war  against  the  soul"  beiMUse  they 
reduce  it  to  a  state  of  slavery  to  the  body,  over 
which  it  ought  to  rule.  Is  any  thing  more 
wnworthy  of  an  immortal  soul  than  to  follow 
no  otiici  Mill;  of  judging  than  an  agitation  of 
the  organs  of  tlie  body,  the  heat  of  tiie  blood, 
the  inotiuu  (jf  aiuMiai  spirits?  And  does  not 
this  daily  liapptMi  to  a  passionate  man?  A  man, 
who  reasons  fairly  when  his  senses  are  tranquil, 
docs.he  not  reason  like  an  idiot  when  his  senses 
are  agitated?  Cool  and  dispassionate,  ho  thinks, 
he  ought  to  eat  and  drinli  only  wiiat  is  neces- 
sary to  support  his  health  and  his  life,  at  most 
to  "  receive  with  thanksgiving"  such  innocent 


pleasures  as  religion  allows  him  to  enjoy:  but 
when  his  senses  are  agitated,  his  taste  becomes 
dainty,  and  he  thinks  lie  may  glut  himself  with 
food,  drown  himself  in  wine,  and  give  himself 
up  without  reserve  to  all  the  excesses  of  voluj)- 
tuousncss.  When  his  senses  were  cool  and 
tranquil,  he  thought  it  sufficient  to  oppose  i)re- 
cautions  of  prudence  against  the  designs  of  an 
enemy  to  his  injury:  but  when  his  senses  are 
agitated,  he  thinks,  he  ought  to  attack  him, 
fall  on  him,  stab  liiin,  kill  him.  When  he  was 
cool,  he  was  frvc,  he  was  a  sovereign:  but  now 
that  his  senses  arc  agitated,  he  is  a  subject,  he 
is  a  slave.  Hase  sidimission!  Unworthy  slavery! 
We  blush  for  human  nature  when  we  see  it  in 
such  bondage.  Behold  that  man,  he  has  as 
many  virtues,  perhaps,  more  than  most  men. 
E.xamine  him  on  the  article  of  good  breeding. 
He  perfectly  understands,  and  scru])ulou8ly 
observes  all  the  laws  of  it.  Examine  him  on 
the  point  of  disinterestedness.  He  abounds  in 
it,  and  to  see  the  manner  in  which  he  gives, 
you  would  say,  he  thought  he  increased  his 
fortune  by  bestowing  it  in  acts  of  benevolence. 
Examine  him  concerning  religion.  He  re- 
spects the  majesty  of  it,  he  always  pronounces 
the  name  of  God  with  veneration,  he  never 
thinks  of  his  works  without  admiration,  or  his 
attributes  without  reverence  or  fear.  Place 
this  man  at  a  gaming  table,  put  the  dice  or  the 
cards  in  his  hand,  and  you  will  know  him  no 
more;  he  loses  all  self-possession,  he  forgets 
politeness,  disinterestedness,  apd  rcligio!i,  ho 
insults  his  fellow-creatures,  and  blasphemes  his 
God.  His  soul  teems  with  avarice,  his  body 
is  distorted,  his  thoughts  are  troubled,  his  tem- 
])er  is  changed,  his  countenance  turns  pale,  his 
eyes  sparkle,  his  mouth  foams,  his  spirits  are  in 
a  flamo,  he  is  another  man,  no,  it  is  not  a  man, 
it  is  a  wild  beast,  it  is  a  devil. 

We  never  give  ourselves  up  thus  to  our  senses 
without  feeling  some  pleasure,  and  what  is  very 
dreadful,  this  pleasure  abides  in  the  memory, 
makes  deej)  traces  in  the  brain,  in  a  word,  ini- 
j)rints  itself  on  the  imagination:  and  this  leads 
us  to  our  third  aiticlc,  in  whii;h  we  are  to 
consider  what  the  passions  do  in  the  imagi- 
nation. 

If  the  senses  were  excited  to  act  only  by  the 
presence  of  objects;  if  the  soul  were  agitated 
only  by  the  action  of  the  senses,  one  single 
mean  would  suffice  to  guard  us  from  irregular 
passions;  that  would  \>c  to  llee  from  the  ol)ject 
that  excites  thinn;  but  the  passions  produce 
other  disorders,  they  leave  deep  impressions  on 
the  hiuiginalion.  When  we  giv(;  ourselves  up 
to  the  senses,  we  feel  [ileasure,  tiiis  pleasure 
strikes  the  imagination,  and  tiie  imagination 
thus  struck  with  the  pleasure  it  has  found,  re- 
collects it,  and  solicits  the  |)asHionatc  man  to 
return  to  objects  that  made  him  so  happy. 

Thus  old  men  have  sometinuis  miserable  re- 
mains of  a  passion,  whii'h  seems  to  suppose  a 
certain  constitution,  and  which  should  seem  to 
lie  extinct,  Jis  the  constitution  implied  is  no 
more:  but  the  recollection  that  sucli  and  such 
objects  had  been  the  cause  of  sui'h  and  such 
j)lcasures  is  dear  to  their  souls;  tiiey  1oV(î  to 
remember  them,  they  make  them  a  part  of  all 
their  conversations;  they  drew  flattering  por- 
traits, and  by  recounting  their  ))ast  pleasures 
indemnify  tlieuisclves  for  the  proliibition,  un- 


Ser.  LXII.] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


75 


der  which  old  age  has  laid  tlicni.  For  the 
same  reason  it  is,  tiiat  a  worldiiiifj,  who  has 
plunged  Jiiniseif  into  all  the  dissipations  of  life, 
finds  it  so  ditVicult  to  renounce  the  world  when 
he  conies  to  die.  Indeed  a  body  homo  down 
with  illness,  a  nature  almost  extinct,  senses 
half  dead,  seem  improper  habitations  of  love 
to  sensual  pleasure;  and  yet  imagination  struck 
with  past  pleasure  tells  tliis  skeleton,  that  the 
world  is  amiable,  that  alw.ays  wiien  he  went 
into  it  he  enjoyed  a  real  i)leasure,  and  that,  on 
the  contrary,  always  when  he  ixjrfornicd  reli- 
gious exercises  iic  felt  pain;  and  this  lively  im- 
pression gives  sucii  a  man  a  present  aversion 
to  religion;  it  incessantly  turns  iiis  mind  to- 
wards the  objects  of  which  dcalii  is  about  to 
deprive  him,  so  that,  without  a  miracle  of 
grace,  he  can  never  look  towards  the  objects 
<jf  religion  with  desire  and  pleasure. 

We  go  fartiier.  W»;  allinn,  that  tiio  disor- 
ders of  the  passions  in  tlie  imagination  far  ex- 
ceed those  in  the  senses;  tiie  action  of  liic 
senses  is  liniited:  but  tiiat  of  tiie  imaginatioti 
is  boimdless,  so  that  the  ditlerence  is  almost  as 
great  as  that  between  finite  and  infinite,  if  you 
will  pardon  the  expression.  A  man,  who  ac- 
tually tastes  pleasure  in  debauchery,  fcïcls  this 
pleasure,  but  lie  does  not  persuade  himself  tiiat 
he  feels  it  more  than  he  docs:  but  a  man,  who 
indulges  his  fancy,  forms  most  extravagant 
ideas,  for  imagination  magnifies  some  objects, 
creates  others,  accumulates  phantom  upon 
phantom,  and  fills  up  a  vast  space  witli  ideal 
joys,  which  have  no  originals  in  nature.  Hence 
it  comes  that  we  are  more  pleased  with  imagi- 
nary ideas,  tiian  with  the  actual  enjoyment  of 
what  we  imagine,  because  imagination  having 
made  boundless  promises,  it  gladdens  the  soul 
with  the  hope  of  more  to  supply  the  want  of 
what  present  objects  fail  of  producing. 

O  deploralde  state  of  man!  The  littleness  of 
his  mind  will  not  allow  him  to  contemplate 
any  object  but  that  of  his  jiassion,  while  it  is 
present  to  his  senses;  it  will  not  allow  him  then 
to  recollect  the  motives,  the  great  motives, 
that  should  impel  him  to  his  duty:  and  when 
the  object  is  absent,  not  being  able  to  otVer 
it  to  his  senses,  he  ])rescnts  it  again  to  his 
imagination  clothed  with  new  and  foreign 
charms,  deceitful  i<leas  of  which  make  uj)  for 
its  al>sencc,  and  excite   in   him  a  love  more 


we  are  in  this  world,  hut  imparts  felicity  by 
means  of  creatures,  he  li:is  given  these  creatures 
two  characters,  which  being  well  examined  by 
a  reasonable  man,  conduct  liim  to  the  Creator, 
but  which  turn  the  passionate  nian  aside.  On 
the  oijc  hand,  creatures  render  us  hap|)y  to  a 
certain  degree,  this  is  their  first  character:  on 
liie  olher,  they  leave  a  void  in  the  soul,  which 
tlicy  nn'.  incapable  of  filling,  this  is  tlieir  second 
character.  This  is  the  design  of  (iod,  and  this 
design  the  pa.ssions  oppose.  I^ict  us  hear  a 
rcason.ible  man  draw  conclusions,  and  let  us 
iibsi'rve  what  opposite  conclusions  a  pas.sionate 
man  draws. 

The  reasonable  man  says,  creatures  leave  a 
void  in  my  soul,  which  they  are  incapable  of 
filling:  hut  what  ctfect  should  this  produce  in 
my  h(îart,  and  what  end  had  (Jod  in  setting 
bounds  so  strait  to  that  power  of  making  me 
hajipy,  wiiicli  he  communicated  to  them?  It 
was  to  reclaim  ine  to  himself,  U>  persuade  me 
that  he  only  can  make  me  happy;  it  was  to 
make  me  s;iy  to  myself,  my  desires  are  eternal, 
whatever  is  not  eternal  is  unetiual  to  my  de- 
sires; my  pa.s.sions  are  infinite,  whatever  is  not 
infinite  is  beneath  my  passions,  and  God  only 
can  satisfy  them. 

A  passionate  man,  from  the  void  he  finds  in 
the  creatures,  draws  conclusions  directly  oppo- 
site. Each  creature  in  particular  is  incapable 
of  making  me  lia])py:  but  could  I  unite  them 
all,  could  1,  so  to  si)e.ik,  extract  the  substanti.al 
from  all,  certainly  nothing  would  be  wanting 
to  my  happiness.  In  this  miserable  supjiosition 
he  becomes  full  of  perturbation,  he  launches 
out,  he  collects,  he  accumulates.  It  is  not 
enonofli  to  acquire  conveniences,  he  must  have 
superlluilics.  It  is  not  enough  that  my  name 
be  known  in  my  family,  and  among  my  ac- 
quaintance, it  must  be  spread  over  the  whole 
city,  the  province,  the  kingdom,  the  four  parts 
of  tiie  globe.  Every  clime  illuminated  by  the 
sun  shall  know  that  I  exist,  and  that  I  have  a 
superior  genius.  It  is  not  enough  to  conquer 
some  hearts,  I  will  subdue  all,  and  display  the 
astonishing  art  of  uniting  all  voices  in  my  fa- 
vour; men  divided  in  opinion  about  every  thing 
else  shall  agree  in  one  point,  that  is,  to  cele- 
I'lrate  my  praise.  It  is  not  enough  to  have 
many  inferiors,  I  must  have  no  master,  no 
e(pial,  I  must  be  a  universal  monarch,  and  sub- 


violent  than  that  of  actual  possession,  when  he  I  due  the  whole  world;  and  when  1  shall  have 


fell  at  least  the  folly  and  vanity  of  it.  O  horrid 
war  of  the  passions  against  the  soul!  Shut  the 
door  of  your  closets  against  the  enchanted  ob- 
ject, it  will  enter  with  you.  Try  to  get  lid  of 
it  by  traversing  plains,  and  fields,  and  whole 
countries;  cleave  the  waves  of  the  sea,  fly  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  try  to  put  between 
yourself  and  your  encliantress  tiic  deep,  the 
rolling  ocean,  she  will  travel  witli  you,  sail 
with  you,  every  wiiere  haunt  you,  because 
wherever  you  go  you  will  carry  yourself,  and 
within  you,  deep  in  your  imagination,  the  be- 
witching image  impressed. 

Let  us  consider,  in  fine,  the  passions  in  the 
heart,  and  the  disorders  tiiey  cause  there. -.- 
What  can  fill  the  heart  of  man?  A  prophet  has 
answered  this  question,  and  has  included  all 
morality  in  one  point,  "  inv  chief  good  is  to 
draw  near  to  God,"  Ps.  Ixxiii.  29;  but  as  God 
does  not  commune  with  us  immediately,  while 


accomplished  tlie.se  vast  designs,  I  will  seek 
other  creatures  to  subdue,  and  more  worlds  to 
conquer.  Thus  the  passions  disconcert  the  plan 
of  God!  Such  are  the  conclusions  of  a  heart 
infatuated  with  passion! 

The  disciple  of  reason  says,  creatures  contri- 
bute to  render  me  lia|)py  to  a  certain  degree: 
but  this  power  is  not  their  own.  Gross, 
sensible,  material  beings  cannot  contribute  to 
the  happiness  of  a  spiritual  creature.  If  crea- 
tures can  augment  my  happiness,  it  is  because 
God  has  lent  them  a  power  natural  only  to 
himself  God  is  then  tiie  source  of  felicity, 
and  all  I  sec  elsewhere  is  only  an  emanation  of 
his  essence:  but  if  the  streams  be  so  pure, 
what  is  the  fountain!  If  elYects  be  so  noble, 
what  is  the  cause!  If  rays  be  so  luminous, 
what  is  the  source  of  light  from  which  they 
proceed! 

The  conclusions  of  an  impassioned  man  are 


76 


THE  PASSIONS. 


[Ser.  LXII. 


directly  opposite.  Says  he,  creatures  render 
me  happy  to  a  certain  degree,  therefore  they 
are  the  cause  of  iny  happiness,  ihey  deserve  all 
my  efforts,  they  siiall  be  my  god.  Thus  the 
passionate  man  renders  to  his  aliments,  his 
gold,  his  silver,  his  equipage,  his  horees,  the 
most  nohie  act  of  adoration.  For  what  is  the 
most  nohle  act  of  adoration?  Is  it  to  build 
temples'  To  erect  altars?  To  kill  victims? 
To  sacrifice  burnt-ofiorings?  To  burn  incense? 
No.  It  is  that  inclination  of  our  heart  to  union 
with  God,  that  aspiring  to  possess  him,  that 
love,  tiiat  effusion  of  soul,  which  makes  us  ex- 
claim, "  My  ciiief  good  is  to  draw  near  to  God." 
This  homage  the  inan  of  passion  renders  to  the 
object  of  his  passions,  "  his  god  is  his  belly," 
his  "  covctousness  his  idolatry;"  and  this  is 
what  "  fleshly  lusts"  become  in  the  heart. 
They  remove  us  from  God,  and,  by  removing 
us  from  him,  deprive  us  of  all  the  good  that 
proceeds  from  a  union  with  the  supreme  good, 
and  thus  make  war  with  every  part  of  our- 
selves, and  with  every  moment  of  our  dura- 
tion. 

War  against  our  reason,  for  instead  of  deriv- 
ing, by  virtue  of  a  union  to  God,  assistance 
necessary  to  the  practice  of  what  reason  ap- 
proves, and  what  grace  only  renders  practica- 
ble, we  are  given  up  to  our  evil  dispositions, 
and  compelled  by  our  passions  to  do  what  our 
own  reason  abhors. 

War  against  tlio  regulation  of  life,  for  instead 
of  putting  on  by  virtue  of  union  to  God,  the 
♦'  easy  yoke,"  and  taking  up  the  "  light  bur- 
den" which  religion  imposes,  wc  become  slaves 
of  envy,  vengeance  and  ambition;  we  are 
weigiied  down  with  a  yoke  of  iron,  which  we 
have  no  power  to  get  rid  of,  ev<:n  tliough  we 
groan  under  its  intolerable  woightiness. 

War  against  conscience,  for  instead  of  being 
justified  by  virtue  of  a  union  with  God,  and 
having  "  peace  with  him  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,"  Rom.  v.  1,  and  feeling  that 
heaven  begun,  "joy  imapcakablo  and  f'ull  of 
glory."  1  Pet.  i.  8,  by  following  our  passions 
we  become  a  prey  to  distracting  fear,  troubles 
>vithout  end,  cutting  remorse,  and  awful  earn- 
ests of  eternal  misery. 

War  on  a  dying  bed,  for  whoreas  by  being 
united  to  God  our  deatii-bcd  would  have  be- 
come a  field  of  triumph,  wiiere  the  Prince  of 
life,  the  Conqueror  of  deatii  would  have  made 
us  share  his  victory,  by  abandoning  ourselves 
to  our  pa.-ssions,  we  see  nothing  in  a  <iying  hour 
but  an  awful  futurity,  a  frowning  governor,  the 
bare  idea  of  which  alarms,  terrilies,  and  drives 
us  to  despair. 

III.  We  have  seen  the  nature  and  the  disor- 
ders of  the  passions,  now  lot  lis  examine  what 
retnedies  we  ought  to  apply.  In  order  to  pre- 
vent and  correct  the  disorders,  which  the  pas- 
sions produce  in  the  mind,  wo  must  observe 
the  following  rules. 

1.  Wc  must  avoid  preciiiilance,  and  suspend 
our  judgment.  It  does  not  de[)end  on  us  to 
have  clear  ideas  of  all  tilings:  but  we  have 
power  to  suspend  'lur  judgment  till  we  obtain 
evidence  of  the  nature  of  tiie  object  before  us. 
This  is  one  of  the  greatest  advantages  of  an 
intelligent  being.  A  celebrated  divine  has  such 
a  high  idea  of  this  that  ho  maintains  this 
hyperbolical   thesis,  that    "always  when  we 


mistake,  even  in  things  indifTerent  in  them- 
selves, we  sin,  because  then  we  abuse  our 
reason,  the  use  of  which  consists  in  never  de- 
termining without  evidence."*  Though  we 
suppose  this  divine  has  exceeded  the  matter, 
yet  it  is  certain,  that  a  wise  man  can  never 
take  too  much  pains  to  form  a  habit  of  not 
judging  a  point,  not  considering  it  as  useful  or 
advantageous  till  after  he  has  examined  it  on 
every  side.  "  Let  a  man,"  says  a  philosopher 
of  great  name,  "  let  a  man  only  pass  one  year 
in  the  world,  hearmg  all  they  say,  and  believ- 
ing nothing,  entering  every  moment  into  him- 
self, and  suspending  his  judgment  till  truth  and 
evidence  appear,  and  1  will  esteem  him  more 
learned  than  Aristotle,  wiser  than  Socrates, 
and  a  greater  man  than  Plato. "t 

2.  À  man  must  reform  even  his  educaticm.  In 
every  family  the  minds  of  children  are  turned 
to  a  certain  point.  Every  family  has  its  pre- 
judice, I  had  almost  said  its  alisurdity;  and 
iience  it  comes  to  pass  that  people  despise  the 
profession  they  do  not  exercise.  Hear  the 
merchant,  he  will  tell  you  that  notiiing  so  much 
deserves  the  attention  of  mankind  as  trade,  as 
acquiring  money  by  every  created  thing,  as 
knowing  the  value  of  this,  and  the  worth  of 
that,  as  taxing,  so  to  speak,  all  the  works  of 
art,  and  all  the  productions  of  nature.  Hear 
the  man  of  learning,  he  will  tell  you,  that  the 
perfection  of  man  consists  in  literature,  that 
tliere  is  a  diflerence  as  essential  between  a 
scliolar  and  a  man  of  no  literature,  as  between 
a  rational  creature  and  a  brute.  Hear  the 
soldier,  he  will  tell  you  that  the  man  of  science 
is  a  pedant  who  ought  to  be  confined  to  the 
dirt  and  darkness  of  the  sciiools,  tliat  the  mer- 
chant is  the  most  sordid  part  of  society,  and 
that  nothing  is  so  noble  as  the  profession  of 
arms.  One  would  tiiink,  to  hear  him  talk, 
that  the  sword  by  his  side  is  a  patent  for  pre- 
eminence, and  that  mankind  have  no  need  of 
any  people,  who  cannot  rout  an  army,  cut 
througli  a  squadron,  or  scale  a  wall.  Hear  him 
who  has  got  tlie  disease  of  quality;  he  will  tell 
you  that  other  men  arc  nothing  but  reptiles 
beneath  his  feet,  that  human  blood,  stained 
every  where  else,  is  pure  only  in  his  veins. 
That  nobility  serves  for  every  thing,  for  genius, 
and  education,  and  fortune,  and  sometimes 
even  for  connnon  sense  and  good  faitii.  Hear 
the  peasant,  he  will  tell  you  that  a  nobleman 
is  an  enthusiast  for  appropriating  to  himself 
the  virtues  of  his  ancestors,  and  for  pretending 
to  find  in  old  quaint  names,  and  in  worm-eaten 
papers,  advantages  which  belong  only  to  real 
and  actual  abilities.  As  I  said  before,  each 
family  has  it  prejudice,  every  profession  has  its 
folly,  all  proceeding  from  tiiis  principle,  because 
we  consider  objects  only  in  one  point  of  view. 
To  correct  ourselves  on  this  article,  wo  must  go 
to  the  source,  examine  how  our  minds  were 
directed  in  our  childhood;  in  a  word,  we  must 
review  and  reform  even  our  education. 

3.  In  fine,  ive  must,  as  well  as  we  can, 
choose  a  friend  wise  enough  to  know  truth,  and 
generous  enough  to  impart  it  to  others;  a  man 
who  will  show  us  an  object  on  every  side,  when 
we  are  inclined  to  consider  it  only  on  one.     I 


*  Elie.  Saiirio.  Rcflei.  sur  la  oonscien.  sect.  2. 
t  Malcbrenche, 


Ser.  LXIL] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


77 


say  as  well  as  you  can,  for  to  give  this  rule  is 
to  suppose  two  things,  both  sometimes  alike 
impracticable;  tlie  one,  that  such  a  man  can 
be  found,  and  tlie  other,  that  he  will  be  lieard 
with  deference.     Wiien  we  are  so  happy  as  to 
find  this  inestimable  treasure,  we  have  found  a 
remedy  of  marvellous  efficacy  against  the  dis- 
orders wiiicli  the  passions  produce  in  the  mind. 
Let  us  make   the  trial.     Suppose  a  failliful 
friend  should  address  one  of  you  in  this  man- 
ner.    Heaven  has  united  in  your  favour  the 
most  happy  circumstances.     The  blood  of  the 
greatest  heroes  animates  you,  and  your  name 
alone  is  an  encomium.     Besides  this  you  have 
an  affluent  fortune,  and  Providence  has  given 
you  abundance  to  support  your  dignity,  and  to 
discliarge  every  thing  that  your  splendid  sta- 
tion requires.     You  have  also  a  fine  and  acute 
genius,   and   your  natural  talents   are    culti- 
vated by  an  excellent  education.     Your  health 
seems  free  from  tiie  infirmities  of  life,  and  if 
any  man  may  hope  for  a  long  duration  here, 
you  are  the  man  who  may  e.xpect  it.     With 
all  these  noble   advantages   you   may   aspire 
at  any   thing.      But   one   thing  is   wanting. 
You  are  dazzled  witli  your  own   splendour, 
and  your  feeble  eyes  are  almost  put  out  with 
the  brilliancy  of  your  condition.     Your  ima- 
gination struck  with  the   idea  of  the  prince 
whonf  you  have  the  honour  to  serve,  makes 
you  consider  yourself  as  a  kind  of  royal  per- 
sonage.    You  liave  formed  your  family  on  the 
plan  of  the  court.     You  are  proud,  arrogant, 
haughty.     Your  seat  resembles  a  tribunal,  and 
all  your  expressions  are  sentences  from  which 
it  is  a  crime  to  appeal.     As  you  will  never  suf- 
fer yourself  to  be  contradicted,  you  seem  to  be 
applauded;  but  a  sacrifice  is  made  to  your  va- 
nity and  not  to  your  merit,  and  people  bow 
not  to  your  reason  but  to  your  tyranny.     As 
they  fear  3'ou  avail  yourself  of  your  credit  to 
brave  others,  each  endeavours  to  oppose  you, 
and  to  throw  down  in  your  absence  the  altar 
he  had  erected  in  your  presence,  and  on  which 
no  incense  sincerely  offered  burns,  except  that 
which  you  yourself  put  there. 

So  much  for  irregular  passions  in  the  mind. 
Let  us  now  lay  down  a  few  rules  for  the  govern- 
ment of  the  senses. 

Before  we  proceed,  wo  cannot  help  deploring 
the  misery  of  a  man  who  is  impelled  by  the 
disorders  of  his  senses,  and  the  heat  of  his 
constitution,  to  criminal  passions.  Such  a  man 
often  deserves  pity  more  than  indignation.  A 
bad  constitution  is  sometimes  compatible  with 
a  good  heart.  We  cannot  think  without  trem- 
bling of  an  ungrateful  man,  a  cheat,  a  traitor, 
an  assassin;  for  their  crimes  always  suppose 
liberty  of  mind  and  consent  of  will:  but  a 
man  driven  from  the  post  of  duty  by  the  heat 
of  his  blood,  by  an  overflow  of  humours,  by 
the  fermentation  and  flame  of  his  spirits,  often 
sins  by  constraint,  and  so  to  speak,  protests 
against  his  crime  even  while  he  commits  it. 
Hence  we  often  see  angry  people  become  full 
of  love  and  pity,  always  inclined  to  forgive,  or 
always  ready  to  ask  pardon;  while  others  cold, 
calm,  tranquil,  revolve  eternal  hatreds  in  their 
souls,  and  leave  them  for  an  inheritance  to 
their  children. 


yet  it  cannot  excuse  those  who  do  not  make 
continual  efforts  to  correct  it.    To  acknowledge 
that  we  are  constitutionally  inclined  to  violate 
the  laws  of  God,  and  to  live  quietly  in  prac- 
tices directed  by  constitutional  heat,  is  to  have 
the  interior  tainted.     It  is  an   evidence   that 
the  malady  which  at  first  attacked  only  the  ex- 
terior of  tiie  man,  has  communicated  itself  to 
all   the  frame,  and   infected   the   vitals.     We 
oppo.so  this  against  the  frivolous  excuses  of 
some  sinijcrs,  who,  while  they  abandon  then>- 
selves  like  brute  beasts  to  the  most  guilty  pas- 
siojis,  lay  all  the  blame  on  the  misfortune  of 
their  constitution.     They  say  their  will  has  no 
])art    in  their   excesses — they   cannot   change 
their    constitution — and    God    cannot    justly 
blame  them  for  irregularities,  which  proceeded 
from  the  natural  union  of  the  soul  with  the 
body.     Indeed  they  prove  by  their  talk,  that 
they  would  be  very  sorry  not  to  have  a  consti- 
tution to  serve  for  an  apology  for  sin,  and  to 
cover  the  licentiousness  of  casting  off  an  obli- 
gation, which  the  law  of  God,  according  to 
them,  requires  of  none  but  such  as  have  re- 
ceived from  nature  the  power  of  discharging 
it.     If  these  maxims  be  admitted,   what   be- 
comes of  the  morality  of  Jesus  Christ'     What 
become  of  the  commands  concerning  mortifi- 
cation and  repentance.'     But  people  who  talk 
thus,  intend  less  to  correct  their  faults  than  to 
palliate  tiicin;   and  this  discourse  is  intended 
only  for  such  as  are  willing  to  apply  means  to 
free  tiiemselves  from  the  dominion  of  irregu- 
lar passions. 

Certainly  the  best  advice  that  can  be  given 
to  a  man  whose  constitution  inclines  him  to 
sin,  is,  that  he  avoid  opportunities,  and  flee 
from  such  objects  as  affect  and  disconcert  him. 
It  does  not  depend  on  you  to  be  unconcerned 
in  sight  of  an  object  fatal  to  your  innocence: 
but  it  does  depend  on  you  to  keep  out  of  the 
way  of  seeing  it.  It  does  not  depend  on  you 
to  be  animated  at  the  sight  of  a  gaming  table: 
but  it  does  depend  on  you  to  avoid  such  whim- 
sical places,  where  sharping  goes  for  merit. 
Let  us  not  be  presumptuous.  Let  us  make 
diffidence  a  principle  of  virtue.  Let  us  remem- 
ber St.  Peter,  he  was  fired  with  zeal,  he  thought 
every  thing  possible  to  his  love,  his  presump- 
tion was  the  cause  of  his  fall,  and  many  by 
following  his  example  have  yielded  to  tempta- 
tion, and  have  found  the  truth  of  an  apocry- 
phal maxim,  "  he  that  loveth  danger  shall  per- 
ish therein,"  Eccles.  iii.  26. 

Af\er  all,  that  virtue  which  owes  its  firm- 
ness only  to  the  want  of  an  opportunity  for 
vice  is  very  feeble,  and  it  argues  very  little  at- 
tainment only  to  be  able  to  resist  our  passions 
in  the  absence  of  temptation.  I  recollect  a 
maxim  of  St.  Paul,  "  I  wrote  unto  you  not  to 
company  with  fornicators,"  but  I  did  not  mean 
that  you  should  have  no  conversation  "  with 
fornicators  of  this  world,  for  then  must  ye 
needs  go  out  of  the  world,"  1  Cor.  v.  9,  10. 
Literally,  to  avoid  all  objects  dangerous  to  our 
passions,  "  we  must  go  out  of  the  world." 
Are  there  no  remedies  adapted  to  the  necessity 
we  are  under  of  living  among  mankind.'  Is 
there  no  such  thing  as  correcting,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  grace,  the  irregularities  of  our  con- 


However,    though   the   irregularity   of  the    stitution,  and  freeing  ourselves  from  its  domin- 
senses  diminislies  the  atrociousness  of  the  crime,  I  ion,  so  that  we  may  be  able,  if  not  to  seek  our 


78 


THE  PASSIONS. 


[Ser.  LXII. 


temptations  for  the  sake  of  the  glory  of  subdu- 
ing them,  at  least  to  resist  them,  uiid  not  sulVer 
them  to  concjuer  us,  wiien  in  spite  of  ail  our 
caution  they  will  attack  us?  Three  remedies 
are  neoessary  to  our  success  in  this  [lainful  un- 
dertaking; to  suspend  acts — to  Hee  idleness — to 
mortify  sense. 

We  must  sus}}end  acts.  Let  us  form  a  just 
idea  of  temperament  or  constitution.  It  con- 
sists in  one  of  these  two  things,  or  in  hoth  to- 
gether; in  a  disposition  of  organs  in  the  nature 
of  animal  spirits.  For  example,  a  man  is  an- 
gry when  the  organs  which  serve  that  jjassion, 
are  more  accessible  than  others,  and  when  his 
animal  spirits  are  easily  heated.  Hence  it  ne- 
cessarily follows,  that  two  things  nmst  he  done 
to  correct  constitutional  anger;  the  one,  the 
disposition  of  the  organs  must  be  changed; 
and  the  other,  the  nature  of  the  s[)iritsmust  he 
changed,  so  that  on  the  one  hand,  the  spirits 
no  longer  finding  these  organs  disposed  to  give 
them  passage,  and  on  the  other  hand  the  spi- 
rits having  lost  a  facility  of  taking  fire,  there 
will  be  within  the  man  none  of  the  revolutions 
of  sense,  which  he  could  not  resist  when  they 
were  excited. 

A  suspension  of  acts  changes  the  disposition 
of  the  organs.  The  more  the  spirits  enter  into* 
these  organs,  the  more  easy  is  the  access,  and 
the  propensity  insurmountable;  the  more  acts 
of  anger  there  are,  the  more  incorrigible  will 
anger  become;  because  the  more  acts  of  anger 
there  are,  the  more  accessible  will  the  organs 
of  anger  be,  so  that  the  animal  s])irits  will  na- 
turally fall  there  by  their  own  motion.  The 
spirits  then  must  be  restrained.  The  bias  they 
have  to  the  ways  to  which  they  have  been  habi- 
tuated by  the  practice  of  sin  mu.st  be  turned, 
and  we  must  always  remember  a  truth  often 
inculcated,  that  is,  that  the  more  acts  of  sin  we 
commit  the  more  difficult  to  correct  will  habits 
of  sin  become;  but  that  when  by  taking  i)ains 
with  ourselves,  we  have  turned  the  course  of 
the  spirits,  they  will  take  diH'erent  ways,  and 
this  is  done  by  suspending  the  acts. 

It  is  not  impossible  to  change  even  the  na- 
ture of  our  animal  spirits.  This  is  done  by 
suspending  what  contributed  to  nourish  them 
in  a  state  of  disorder.  What  contributes  to 
the  nature  of  spirits?  Diet,  exercise,  air,  the 
whole  course  of  life  we  live.  It  is  very  diffi- 
cult in  a  discourse  like  this,  to  give  a  full  cata- 
logue of  remedies  proper  to  regulate  the  ani- 
mal spirits  and  the  humours  of  the  body.  I  be- 
lieve it  would  be  dangerous  to  many  people. 
Some  men  are  so  made,  that  rellections  too  ac- 
curate on  this  article  would  he  more  likely  to 
increa.se  their  vires  than  to  diminish  them. 
However,  there  is  not  one  person  willing  to 
turn  his  attention  to  tiiis  suliject  who  is  not 
able  to  become  a  [)reacher  to  himself.  L(;t  a 
man  enter  into  himself,  lot  him  survey  the  his- 
tory of  his  excesses,  let  him  examine  all  cir- 
cumsUmces,  let  liitn  recollect  what  passed 
within  him  on  such  and  such  occasions,  let  him 
closely  consider  wliat  moved  and  agitated  him, 
and  he  will  learn  more  by  sucira  meditation, 
than  all  sermons  and  casuistical  books  can 
teach  him. 

The  second  remedy  is  to  avoid  idleness. 
What  is  idleness?  It  is  that  situation  of  soul, 
in  which  no  ollbrt  is  made  to  direct  the  course 


of  the  spirits  this  way  rather  than  that.  What 
nmst  happen  then?  AVe  have  supposed,  that 
some  organs  of  a  man  constitutionally  irregu- 
lar are  more  accessible  than  others.  When  we 
are  idle,  and  make  no  eflbrts  to  direct  the  ani- 
mal Kjjirits,  they  naturally  take  the  easiest  way, 
and  conseijuently  direct  their  own  course  to 
those  organs  which  j)a.ssion  has  made  easy  of 
access.  To  avoid  this  disorder,  we  must  bo 
employed,  and  always  employed.  This  rule 
is  neither  impracticable,  nor  ditHcult.  We  do 
not  mean,  that  the  soul  should  be  always  on 
the  stretch  in  meditation  or  j)rayer.  An  inno- 
cent recreation,  an  ca.sy  conversation,  agreea- 
ble exercise,  may  have  each  its  i)lace  in  occu- 
pations of  this  kind.  For  these  rea.sons  we 
applaud  those,  who  make  such  maxims  parts 
of  the  education  of  youth,  as  either  to  teach 
them  an  art,  or  employ  them  in  some  bodily 
exercise.  Not  that  we  pro])ose  this  maxim  as 
it  is  received  in  some  families,  where  they  think 
all  the  merit  of  a  young  gentleman  consists  in 
hunting,  riding,  or  some  exertise  of  that  kind; 
and  that  of  a  young  lady,  in  distinguishing  her- 
self in  dancing,  music,  or  needle-work.  We 
mean,  that  these  employments  siiould  be  sub- 
ordinate to  others  more  serious,  and  more  wor- 
thy of  an  inmiortal  soul,  that  they  should 
serve  only  for  relaxation,  so  that  by  thus  tak- 
ing i)art  in  the  innocent  pleasures  of  the  world, 
we  may  be  better  prepared  to  avoid  Uie  guilty 
pursuits  of  it. 

The  third  remedy  is  mortiftcation  of  the  setises, 
a  remedy  which  St.  Paul  always  used,  "  I  keep 
under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  suiijection,"  1 
('or.  ix.  2".  Few  people  havesuch  soinid  notions. 
Some  casuists  have  stretched  the  subject  be- 
yond its  due  bounds  so  as  to  establish  this  prin- 
ciple, that  sinful  man  can  enjoy  no  pleasure 
without  a  crime,  because  sin  having  been  his 
(leligiit,  j)ain  ought  to  be  for  ever  his  lot. 
This  ]irinciple  m.ay  perhaps  be  probably  consi- 
dered in  regard  to  unregeneratc  men:  but  it 
cannot  be  admitted  in  regard  to  true  Chris- 
tians. Accordingly,  we  place  among  those 
who  have  unsound  notions  of  mortification,  all 
such  as  make  it  consist  in  vain  practices,  use- 
less in  themselves,  and  having  no  relation  to 
tiie  i)rincipal  design  of  religion,  "  bodily  exer- 
cises profiting  little:"  they  are  "  connnand- 
ments  of  men,"  in  the  language  of  Scrijiture. 

Hut  if  some  having  entertained  extravagant 
notions  of  mortification,  others  have  restrained 
the  subject  too  nmch.  Under  pretence  that 
the  religion  of  .lesus  Christ  is  spiritual,  they 
have  neglected  the  study  and  practice  of  evan- 
gelical morality:  but  we  have  heard  the  ex- 
ample of  St.  I'aul,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  imi- 
tate it.  We  nuist  "  keej)  under  the  body,"  and 
"bring  it  into  subjection,"  tlie  senses  nmst  be 
iiridled  by  violence,  innocent  tilings  nmst  of- 
ten bo  refused  them,  in  order  to  obtain  the 
mastery  when  they  require  unlawful  tilings; 
we  must  fast,  we  nmst  avoid  ease,  b(!causo  it 
tends  to  eHeminacy.  All  this  is  diffi(uilt,  1 
grant:  but  if  the  undertaking  he  hazardous, 
success  will  he  ylorious.*  Thirty,  forty  years, 
employed  in  relLirming  an  irregular  constitu- 
tion, ought  not  to  he  regretted.  Wiiat  a  glory 
to  have  subdued  the  senses!     What  a  glory 

*  See  »  beautitul  piis!i;igc  of  I'lulo  in  liis  ciglitli  book 
Dc  Icgibus. 


Seii.  LXIL] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


79 


to  have  restored  the  soul  to  ita  primitive  supe-  I  let  us  abstain  from  pleasures  to  preclude  tho 
riority,  to  have  crucified  the  "hody  of  sin,"  to  jwssiliihty  ofrciiicinheriiiff  thuiii;  let  retirement, 
lead  it   in  Iriuinpii,  and  to   destroy,  tiiat  is  to    and,  ifit  beitracticaldc,  i)er))elLml  jtrivacy,  from 


annikilalc  il,  according  to  an  expression  of 
Scriptnrr!,  and  so  to  a|)i)r()ach  those  pure  spirits, 
in  whom  the  motions  of  matter  can  make  no 
alteration! 

Tlie  disorders  produced  by  tiie  passions  in 
the  imajjination,  and  against  wliicii  also  we 
ouglil  to  luniish  you  with  some  remedies,  are 
lilte  tiiose  comphcated  disorders,  wiiicii  re(iuire 
opposite  remedies,  because  they  are  the  etiect 
of  opposite  causes,  so  that  tiic  means  cm])loyed 
to  diminisii  one  part  not  mdVetpicnlly  in(Tease 
another.  It  should  seem  at  first,  tiiat  the  iiest 
remedy  which  can  lie  applied  to  disorders  in- 
troduced jjy  tile  i)assions  into  tiie  imagination, 
is  well  to  consider  the  naturi!  of  the  objects  of 
the  passions,  and  Ihoroujrldy  to  know  tlio  world: 
and  yet  on  tiie  other  liand,  it  may  truly  he  said, 
that  tiie  most  certain  way  of  succeeding  would 
bo  to  know  notiiing  at  all  about  the  world.  If 
you  know  the  |)lcasurcs  of  the  world,  if  you 
know  by  e.vperience  the  pleasure  of"  gratifying 
a  passion,  you  will  fall  into  the  misfortune  we 
wish  you  to  avoid;  you  will  receive  bad  iin|)res- 
sions;  you  will  acquire  dangerous  recollections, 
and  a  seducing  memory  will  he  a  new  occasion 
of  sin:  but  if  you  do  not  know  the  pleasures  of 
the  world,  you  will  be  likely  to  form  ideas  too 
flattering  of  it,  you  will  create  images  more 
beautiful  than  the  originals  themselves,  and  by 
the  immense  value  you  set  upon  the  victim, 
when  you  are  just  going  to  otier  it  u[>  perhaps 
you  will  retreat,  and  not  make  the  sacrifice. 
Hence  we  often  see  persons  whom  the  super- 
stition or  avarice  of  their  families  has  in  child- 
hood confined  in  a  nunnery  (suppose  it  were 
allowable  in  other  cases,  yet  in  this  case  done 
prematurely,)  I  say,  these  persons  not  knowing 
the  world,  wish  for  its  ])leasures  with  more  ar- 
dour than  if  they  had  actually  experienced 
them.  So  they  who  have  never  been  in  com- 
pany with  the  great,  generally  imagine  that 
their  society  is  full  of  cliarms,  that  all  is  plea- 
sure in  their  company,  and  that  a  circle  of  rich 
and  fasliionable  people  sitting  in  an  elegant 
apartment  is  far  more  livdy  and  anim:vted  than 
one  composed  of  people  of  inferior  rank,  and 
middling  fortune,  f  lence  also  it  is,  that  they, 
who,  aller  having  lived  a  dissipated  life,  have 
the  rare  happiness  of  renouncing  it,  do  so  with 
more  sincerity  than  others,  wlio  never  knew  the 
vanity  of  sucii  a  life  by  experience.  So  very 
dill'erent  are  the  remedies  for  disorders  of  the 
imagination. 

But  as  in  complicated  disorders,  to  which  we 
have  compared  them,  a  wise  physician  chiefly 
attends  to  the  most  dangerous  complaint,  and 
distributes  his  remedies  so  as  to  counteract 
those  which  are  less  fatal,  we  will  observe  the 
same  method  on  this  occasion.  Doubtless  the 
most  dangerous  way  to  obtain  a  contempt  for 
the  pleasures  of  the  world,  is  to  get  an  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  tliem,  in  order  to  detach 
ourselves  more  easily  from  tiiem  by  the  tho- 
rougli  sense  we  have  of  their  vanity.     We  ba- 


the moment  we  entc^r  into  the  world  to  the  day 
we  (piit  it,  save  us  from  all  bad  imjiressions,  so 
that  wo  may  never  know  the  effects  which 
worldly  objects  would  produce  in  our  passions. 
This  method,  sure  and  etlectual,  is  useless  and 
im|)racticable  in  regard  to  such  as  have  received 
bad  impressions  on  their  imagination.  People 
of  this  character  ought  to  iiursiie  the  second 
method  we  mentioned,  that  is  to  ]>rotit  by  their 
losses,  and  derive  wisdom  from  liieir  errors. 
Wlicn  you  recollect  sin,  you  may  remember  the 
folly  and  pain  of  it.  Let  the  courtier  whose 
imagination  is  yet  full  of  the  vain  glory  of  a 
sph^ndid  court,  remember  the  intrigues  he  has 
known  there,  the  craft,  the  injustice,  tho 
treachery,  the  dark  and  dismal  plans  that  are 
formed  and  executed  there. 

1  would  advise  such  a  man,  when  his  pas- 
sions solicit  him  to  sin,  to  call  in  the  aid  of 
some  other  idea   to  strike  an<l  alfect  his  ima- 
gination.    Let  him  make  choice  of  that  out  of 
tlie. truths  of  religion  which  seems  most  likely 
to  impress  his  mind,  and  let  him  learn  the  art 
of  instantly  opposing  impression  against  im- 
pression, and  image  against  image;  for  example, 
let  him  often  fix  his  attention  on  death,  judg- 
ment, and  hell;  let  him  often  say  to  himself,  I 
must  die  soon,  I  must  stand  before  a  severe  tri- 
bunal, and  appear  in  the  presence  of  an  impar- 
tial judgt;;  let  him  go  down  in  thought  into  tiiat 
irulf,  where  the  wicked  expiate  in  eternal  tor- 
ments their  momentary  pleasures;  let  him  think 
he  hears  the  sound  of  the  piercing  cries  of  tho 
victims  whom  divine  justice  sacrifices  in  hell: 
let  him  often  weigh  in  his  mind  the  "  chains  of 
darkness"  that  load  miserable  creatures  in  hell; 
let  him  often  approach  the  fire  that  consumes 
them;  let  him,  so  to  speak,  scent  the  smoke  that 
rises  up  for  ever  and  ever;  let  him  often  think 
of  eternity,  and  place  himself  in  that  awful  mo- 
ment, in  which  "  the  angel  will  lift  up  his  hand 
to  heaven,  and  swear  by  him  tiiat  liveth  for 
ever  and  ever,  that  there  shall  be  time  no  lon- 
ger,"  Rev.  X.  5,  6;  and  let  the  numerous  re- 
flections furnished  by  all  these  subjects  be  kept 
as  corps  de  reserve,  always  ready  to  fly  to  his 
aid,  when  the  enemy  approaches  to  attack  him. 
In  fine,  to  heal  the  disorders  which  the  pas- 
sions produce  in  the  heart,  two  things  must  be 
done.     First,  the  vanity  of  all  the  creatures 
must  be  observed;  and  this  will  free  us  from  the  • 
desire  of  possessing  and  collecting  the  whole  in 
order  to  fill  up  the  void  which  single  enjoyments 
leave.     Secondly,  we  must  ascend  from  crea- 
tures to  tiie  Creator,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the 
folly  of  attributing  to  the  world  the  perfection 
and  sufHciency  of  God. 

Let  us  free  our  hearts  from  an  avidity  for 
new  pleasures  by  comprehending  all  creatures 
in  our  catalogue  of  vanities.  I  allow,  incon- 
stancy, and  love  of  novelty  are  in  some  sense 
rational.  It  is  natural  for  a  being  exposed  to 
trouble  to  choose  to  change  his  condition,  and 
IS  tliat  in  which  he  is  yields  certain  trouiilc,  to 


7.ard  a  fall  by  ai)|)r()acliing  too  near,  and  such  try  whetlier  another  will  not  be  something  ca- 
very  often  is  the  ascendancy  of  the  world  over  sier.  It  is  natural  to  a  man  who  has  found 
vts,  that  we  cannot  detach  ourselves  from  it  nothing  but  imperfect  pleasure  in  former  enjoy- 
though  we  aro  disgusted  with  it.  Let  us  en-  menU;,  to  desire  new  objects.  The  most  noble 
deavour  then  to  preserve  our  imagination  pure;  I  souls,  tlic  greatest  geuiuacs,  tho  largest  hearts 


80 


THE  PASSIONS. 


[Ser.  LXIL 


have  of\en  the  jnosl  Inconstancy  and  love  of 
novelty,  because  the  extent  of  their  capacity 
and  the  space  of  their  wishes  make  them  feel 
more  than  other  men,  the  diniinutiveness  and 
incompetency  of  all  creatures.  But  the  mis- 
fortune is,  man  cannot  change  his  situation 
without  entering  into  another  almost  like  that 
from  which  he  came.  Let  us  persuade  our- 
selves that  there  is  nothing  substantial  in  crea- 
tures, that  all  conditions,  besides  characters  of 
vanity  common  to  all  human  things,  have  some 
imperfections  peculiar  to  themselves.  If  you 
rise  out  of  obscurity,  you  will  not  have  the 
troubles  of  obscurity,  but  you  will  have  those 
of  conspicuous  stations;  you  will  make  talk  for 
every  body,  you  will  be  exposed  to  envy,  you 
will  be  responsible  to  each  individual  for  your 
conduct.  If  you  quit  solitude,  you  will  not 
have  the  troubles  of  solitude,  but  you  will  have 
those  of  society;  you  will  live  under  restraint, 
you  will  lose  your  liberty,  inestimable  liberty, 
the  greatest  treasure  of  mankind,  you  will  have 
to  bear  with  the  faults  of  all  peoi)le  connected 
with  you.  If  heaven  gives  you  a  family,  you 
will  not  have  the  troubles  of  such  as  have  none, 
but  you  will  have  others  necessarily  resulting 
from  domestic  connexions;  you  will  multiply 
your  miseries  by  the  number  of  your  children, 
you  will  fear  for  their  fortune,  you  will  be  in 
pain  about  their  health,  and  you  will  tremble 
for  fear  of  their  death.  My  bretiiren,  I  repeat 
it  again,  tiiere  is  nothing  substantial  in  tiiis  life. 
Every  condition  hiis  difficulties  of  its  own  as 
well  as  the  common  inanity  of  all  human  things. 
Jf,  in  some  sense,  nothing  ouglit  to  surprise  us 
less  than  the  inconstancy  of  mankind  and  their 
love  of  novelty,  in  another  view,  notliing  ought 
to  astonish  us  more,  at  least  there  is  nothing 
more  weak  and  senseless.  A  man  who  thinks 
to  remedy  the  vanity  of  earthly  things  by  run- 
ning from  one  object  to  another,  is  like  him, 
who,  in  order  to  determine  whether  there  be  in 
a  great  heap  of  stones  any  one  capable  of  nou- 
rishing him,  should  resolve  to  taste  them  all 
one  after  another.  Let  us  shorten  our  labour. 
Let  us  put  all  creatures  into  one  class.  Let  us 
cry,  vanity  in  all.  If  we  determine  to  pursue 
new  objects,  let  us  choose  such  as  are  capable 
of  satisfying  us.  Let  us  not  seek  tliem  here 
below.  They  are  not  to  be  found  in  this  old 
world,  which  God  has  cursed.  They  are  in 
the  "  new  heavens,  and  the  new  earth,"  which 
religion  promises.  To  comprehend  all  crea- 
tures in  a  catalogue  of  vanities  is  an  excellent 
rule  to  heal  the  heart  of  the  disorders  of  passion. 
Next  we  must  frequently  ascend  from  crea- 
tures to  the  Creator,  and  cease  to  consider  tliem 
as  the  supreme  good.  We  intend  here  a  devo- 
tion of  all  times,  places,  and  circumstances;  for, 
my  brethren,  one  great  source  of  depravity  in 
the  most  eminent  saints  is  to  restrain  the  spirit 
of  religion  to  certain  limes,  places,  and  circum- 
stances. There  is  an  art  of  glorifying  (îod  by 
exercising  religion  every  where.  "  Whether  ye 
eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  you  do,  do  all  to 
the  glory  of  God,"  1  Cor.  x.  13.  Do  you  enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  sense.'  Say  to  yourself,  God 
is  the  author  f)f  this  pleasure.  The  nourish- 
ment I  derive  from  my  food  is  not  necessarily 
produced  by  alimiMits,  lliey  have  no  natural 
power  to  move  my  nerves,  (iod  has  communi- 
cated it  to  them;  there  is  no  necessary  coimcxiou 


between  the  motioru  of  my  senses  and  agreeable 
sensations  in  my  soul,  it  is  God  who  has  esta- 
blished the  union  between  motion  and  sensa- 
tion. The  particles  emitted  by  this  flower 
could  not  necessarily  move  the  nerves  of  my 
smell,  it  is  God  who  has  established  this  law; 
the  motion  of  my  smelling  nerves  cannot  natu- 
rally excite  a  sensation  of  agreeable  odour  in 
my  soul,  it  is  God  who  has  established  this 
union;  and  so  of  the  rest.  God  is  supreme  hap- 
piness, the  source  from  which  all  the  charms 
of  creatures  proceed.  He  is  the  light  of  the 
sun,  the  flavour  of  food,  the  fragrance  of  odours, 
the  liannony  of  sounds,  he  is  whatever  is  capa- 
ble of  producing  real  pleasure,  because  he  emi- 
nently possesses  all  felicity,  and  because  all 
kinds  of  felicity  flow  from  him  as  their  spring. 
Because  we  love  pleasure  we  ought  to  love 
God,  from  whom  pleasure  proceeds;  because  we 
love  pleasure  we  ought  to  abstain  from  it,  when 
God  prohibits  it,  because  he  is  infinitely  able  to 
indemnify  us  for  all  the  sacrifices  we  make  to 
his  orders.  To  ascend  from  creatures  to  the 
Creator  is  the  last  remedy  we  prescribe  for  the 
disorders  of  the  passions.  Great  duties  they 
are:  but  they  are  founded  on  strong  motives. 

Of  these  St.  Peter  mentions  one  of  singular 
efficacy,  that  is,  that  we  are  "  strangers  and  pil- 
grims" upon  earth.  "  Dearly  beloved,  I  be- 
seech you  as  strangers  and  jiilgrims,  abstain 
from  fleshly  lusts,  which  war  against  the  soul." 
The  believers  to  whom  the  apostle  wrote  this 
epistle,  were  "  strangers  and  pilgrims"  in  three 
senses — as  exiles — as  Christians — and  as  mor- 
tals. 

].  As  exiles..  This  epistle  is  addressed  to 
such  strangers  as  were  scattered  throughout 
Pontus,  Galatia,  Cappadocia,  Asia,  and  Bithy- 
nia.  But  who  were  these  strangers'  Com- 
mentators are  divided.  Some  think  they  were 
Jews  who  had  been  carried  out  of  their  country 
in  divers  revolutions  under  Tiglath  Pileser, 
Salmaneser,  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  Ptolemy. 
Others  think  they  were  the  Jewish  Christians 
who  fled  on  account  of  the  martyrdom  of  Ste- 
phen. Certain  it  is  these  Christians  were 
slrai^gers  and  probably  exiles  for  religion.  Now 
people  of  this  character  have  special  motives  to 
govern  their  passions. 

Strangers  are  generally  very  little  beloved  in 
the  place  of  their  exile.  Although  rational 
people  treat  them  with  hospitality;  though  na- 
ture inspires  some  with  respect  for  the  wretched 
of  every  character;  though  piety  animates  some 
with  veneration  for  people  firm  in  their  religious 
sentiments;  yet,  it  must  be  allowed,  the  bulk 
of  the  people  usually  see  tiiem  with  other  eyes; 
they  envy  them  the  air  they  breathe,  and  the 
earth  they  walk  on;  they  consider  them  as  so 
many  usurpers  of  tlieir  rights;  and  they  think, 
that  as  much  as  exiles  parliike  of  the  benefits  of 
government,  and  the  liberty  of  trade,  so  much 
iliey  retrench  from  the  portion  of  the  natives. 

Besides,  the  ]>eople  commonly  judge  of  merit 
by  fortime,  and  as  fortune  and  banishment  sel- 
dom go  together,  popular  prejudice  seldom  runs 
liigli  in  favour  of  exiles.  .Jealousy  views  them 
with  a  suspicious  eye,  malice  imputes  crimes  to 
them,  injustice  accuses  them  for  public  calami- 
tics  we  will  not  enlarge.     Letan 

inviolable  fidelity  to  the  state,  an  unsuspected 
love  to  government,  an  uiueserved  conformity 


Skr.  LXII.] 


THE  PASSIONS. 


81 


to  religion,  silence  accusation,  and  compel,  so 
to  speait,  an  esteem  that  is  not  natural  and  free. 
Moreover,  religious  exiles  have  given  upa  great 
deal  for  conscience,  and  tliey  must  choose  either 
to  lose  the  reward  of  their  former  labours,  or  to 
persevere.  A  man  who  1ms  only  taken  a  fv.w 
easy  steps  in  religion,  if  he  let  loose  his  passions, 
may  bo  supposed  rational  in  lliis,  his  life  is  all 


thrones  and  crowns  which  God  prepares.  His 
riches  are  not  of  this  world,  they  depend  on 
trea.siires  in  heaven,  where  "  thieves  do  not 
break  tlirough  and  steal,"  Matt.  vi.  20.  It  is 
allowable  for  a  man  educated  in  these  great 
principles,  but  whose  infirmity  prevents  his  al- 
ways thinking  on  them;  it  is  indeed  allowable 
for  a  man,  wJio  cannot  always  bend  his  mind 


of  a  piece.  He  considers  present  interestas  the  j  to  reflection,  meditation,  and  elevation  above 
supreme  good,  and  he  employs  himself  wholly  |  the  world;  it  is  indeed  allowable  for  such  a 
in  advancing  his  present  interest,  lie  lays  down  I  man  sometimes  to  unbend  his  mind,  to  amuse 
a  principle,  he  initrs  a  consequence,  and  he  I  himself  with  cultivating  a  tulip,  or  embellish- 
makes  sin  produce  all  possible  advantage.    An  j  ing  his  head  with  a  crown:  but  that  this  tulip, 


abominable  principle  certainly,  but  a  uniform 
train  of  principle  and  consef|ueiire;  a  fatal  ad- 
vantage in  a  future  state,  but  a  real  advantage 
in  the  present:  but  such  a  stranger  as  we  have 
described,  a  man  banished  his  country  for  reli- 
gion, if  he  continues  to  gratify  fleshly  liassions, 
is  a  contradictory  creature,  a  sort  of  idiot,  who 
is  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  martyr  to  vice 
and  a  martyr  to  virtue.    He  has  the  fatal  secret 
of  rendering  both  time  and  eternity  wretched, 
and  anning  against  himself  heaven  and  earth, 
God  and   Satan,  paradise  and  hell.     On  the 
one  hand,  for  the  sake  of  religion  he  quits  every 
thing  dear,  and  renounces  the  pleasure  of  his 
native  soil,  the  society  of  his  friends,  family 
connexions,  and  every  prospect  of  preferment 
and  fortune;  thus  he  is  a  martyr  for  virtue,  by 
this  he  renders  the  present  life  inconvenient, 
and  arms  against  himself  the  world,  Satan,  and 
hell.    On  the  other  hand,  he  stabs  the  practical 
part  of  religion,  violates  all  the  sacred  laws  of 
austerity,  retirement,  humility,  patience,  and 
love,  all  which  religion  most  earnestly  recom- 
mends; by  so  doing  he  becomes  a  martyr  for 
sin,  renders  futurity  miserable,  and  arms  against 
himself  God,  heaven,  and  eternity.    The  same 
God  who  forbade  superstition  and  idolatry,  en- 
joined all  the  virtues  we  have  enumerated,  and 
prohibited  every  opposite  vice.     If  men  be  de- 
termined to  be  damned,  better  go  the  broad 
than  the  narrow  way.     Who  but  a  madman 
would  attempt  to  go  to  hell  by  encountering 
the  difficulties  that  lie  in  tlie  way  to  heaven! 

2.  The  believers  to  whom  Peter  wrote  were 
strangers  as  Christians,  and  therefore  strangers 
because  believers.  What  is  the  fundamental 
maxim  of  the  Christian  religion?  Jesus  Christ 
told  Pilate,  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world," 
John  xviii.  36.  This  is  the  maxim  of  a  Chris- 
tian, the  first  great  leading  principle,  "  his 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world;"  his  happiness 
and  misery,  his  elevation  and  depression,  de- 
pend on  nothing  in  this  world. 

The  first  principle  is  the  ground  of  the  apos- 
tle's exhortation.  The  passions  destroy  this 
maxim  by  supposing  the  world  capable  of 
making  us  happy  or  miserable.  Revenge  sup- 
poses our  honour  to  depend  on  the  world,  on 
the  opinion  of  those  idiots  who  have  determin- 
ed that  a  man  of  honour  ought  to  revenge  an 
affront.  Ambition  supposes  our  elevation  to 
de])end  pn  the  world,  that  is,  on  the  dignities 
which  ambitious  men  idolize.  Avarice  sup- 
poses our  riches  depend  on  this  world,  on  gold, 
silver,  and  estates. 

These  are  not  the  ideas  of  a  Christian.    His 

honour  is  not  of  this  world,  it  depends  on  the 

ideas  of  God,  who  is  a  just  dispenser  r.f  glory. 

His  elevation  is  not  of  this  world,  it  depends  on 

Vol.  II.— 11 


that  this  crown,  should  seriously  occupy  such 
a  man;  that  they  should  take  up  the  principal 
attention  of  a  Christian,  who  has  such  refined 
ideas  and  such  glorious  hopes,  this,  this  is  en- 
tirely incompatible. 

3.  In  fine,  wo  arc  strangers  and  pilgrims  by 
necessity  of  nature  as  mortal  men.  If  this  life 
were  eternal,  it  would  bo  a  question  whether 
it  were  more  advantageous  for  man  to  gratify 
his  passions  than  to  subdue  them;  whether 
the  tranquillity,  the  equanimity,  the  calm  of  a 
man  perfectly  free,  and  entirely  master  of  him- 
self, would  not  be  preferable  to  the  troubles, 
conflicts,  and  turbulence,  of  a  man  in  bondage 
to  his  passions.  Passing  this  question,  we  will 
grant,  that  were  this  life  eternal,  prudence  and 
self-love,  well  understood,  would  require  some 
indulgence  of  passion.  In  this  case  there 
would  be  an  immense  distance  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  and  riches  should  be  ac- 
quired; there  would  be  an  immense  distance 
between  the  higli  and  the  low,  and  elevation 
should  be  sought;  there  would  be  an  immense 
distance  between  him  who  mortified  his  senses, 
and  him  who  gratified  them,  and  sensual  plea- 
sures would  be  requisite. 

But  death,  death  renders  all  these  things 
alike;  at  least,  it  makes  so  little  difference  be- 
tween the  one  and  the  other,  that  it  is  hardly 
discernible.     The  most  sensible  motive  there- 
fore to  abate  the  passions,  is  death.     The  tomb 
is  the  best  course  of  morality.     Study  avarice 
in  the  coffin  of  a  miser;  this  is  the  man  who 
accumulated   heap   upon    heap,    riches    upon 
riches,  see  a  few  boards  enclose  him,  and  a  few 
square  inches  of  earth  contain    him.     Study 
ambition    in   the   grave   of  tliat   enterprising 
man;  see  his  noble  designs,  his  extensive  pro- 
jects, his  boundless  expedients  are  all  shatter- 
ed and  sunk  in  this  fatal  gulf  of  human  pro- 
jects.    Approach  the  tomb  of  the  proud  man, 
and  there   investigate   pride;   see   the   mouth 
that  pronounced  lofty  expressions,  condemned 
to  eternal  silence,  the  j)iercing  eyes  that  con- 
vulsed the  world  with   fear,  covered  with  a 
midnight  bloom,  the  formidable  arm,  that  dis- 
tributed the  destinies  of  mankind,  without  mo- 
tion and  life.     Go  to  the  tomb  of  the  noble- 
man,   and    there    study   quality;    behold    his 
magnificent  titles,  his  royal  ancestors,  his  flat- 
tering inscriptions,  his  learned  genealogies,  are 
all  gone,  or  going  to  be  lost  with  himself  in 
the  same  dust.     Study  voluptuousness  at  the 
grave  of  the   voluptuous;  see,  his  senses  are 
destroyed,    his   organs   broken   to   pieces,    his 
bones  scattered  at  the  grave's  mouth,  and  the 
whole  temple  of  sensual   pleasure   subverted 
from  its  foundations. 

Hero  we  finish  this  discourse.     There  is  a 


82 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTION. 


[Ser.  Lxm. 


great  difference  between  this  and  other  sub- 
jectn  of  discussion.  When  we  trciil  of  a  point 
of  doctrine,  it  is  sufficient  tlmtyou  hear  it,  and 
remeniher  the  consequences  drawn  from  it. 
When  we  explain  a  ditiicult  te.xt,  it  is  eiiouffli 
that  you  understand  it  and  recollect  it.  When 
we  press  home  a  particular  duty  of  morality,  it 
is  sufficient  that  you  apply  it  to  tlio  particular 
circumstance  to  which  it  helonirs. 

But  what  regards  the  passions  is  of  univer- 
sal and  perpetual  use.  \Ve  always  carry  the 
principles  of  th(;se  passions  within  us,  and  we 
shouhi  always  have  assistance  at  hand  to  sub- 
due them.  Always  surrounded  with  objects 
of  our  passions,  wo  should  always  be  «guarded 
against  them.  AVe  should  remember  these 
things,  when  we  see  tlie  benefits  of  fortune,  to 
free  ourselves  from  an  immoderate  atlaclmient 
to  them;  before  human  grandeur  to  despise 
it;  before  sensual  objects  to  subdue  them;  be- 
fore our  enemy,  to  forgive  him;  before  friends, 
children,  and  families,  to  hold  ourselves  disen- 
gaged from  them.  We  should  always  exam- 
ine in  what  part  of  ourselves  the  passions  hold 
their  throne,  whether  in  the  mind,  the  senses, 
or  the  imagination,  or  the  heart.  We  should 
always  examine  whether  they  have  depraved 
the  heart,  defiled  the  imagination,  perverted 
the  senses,  or  blinded  the  mind.  We  should 
ever  remember,  that  we  are  strangers  ujion 
earth,  that  to  this  our  condition  calls  us,  our 
religion  invites  us,  and  our  nature  compels  us. 

But  alas!  It  is  this,  it  is  this  general  influ- 
ence, which  these  exhortations  ought  to  have 
over  our  lives,  that  makes  us  fear  we  have  ad- 
dressed them  to  you  in  vain.  When  we  treat 
of  a  point  of  doctrine,  we  may  persuade  our- 
selves it  has  been  understood.  When  we  ex- 
plain a  difficult  te.xt,  we  flatter  ourselves  we 
have  thrown  some  light  upon  it.  When  we 
urge  a  moral  duty,  we  hope  the  next  occasion 
will  bring  it  to  your  memory:  and  yet  how 
often  have  we  deceived  ourselves  on  these  arti- 
cles! How  often  have  our  hopes  been  vain! 
How  otlen  have  you  sent  us  empty  away,  even 
though  we  demanded  so  little!  What  will 
be  done  to-day?  Who  that  knows  a  little  of 
mankind,  can  flatter  himself  that  a  disi-ourse 
intended,  in  regard  to  a  great  number,  to 
change  all,  to  refbrn»  all,  to  renew  all,  will  be 
directed  to  its  true  design! 

But,  O.God,  there  yet  remains  one  resource, 
it  is  thy  grace,  it  is  thine  aid,  grace  that  we 
have  a  thousand  times  turned  into  lascivious- 
neas,  and  which  we  have  a  thousand  times  re- 
jected; yet  after  all  assisting  grace,  which  we 
most  humbly  venture  to  implore.  When  we 
approach  the  enemy,  wo  earnestly  beseech 
thee,  "  teach  ()ur  hands  to  war,  and  our  fingers 
to  fight!"  When  we  did  attack  a  town,  we 
fervently  besouglit  thee  to  render  it  accessible 
to  us!  Our  prayers  entered  heaven,  our  ene- 
mies fled  before  us,  thou  didst  bring  us  into  the 
strong  city,  and  didst  lead  us  into  Edom,  I'e. 
Ix.  9.  The  walls  of  many  a  Jericho  fell  at 
the  sound  of  our  trinnjicts,  at  tlie  sight  of  thine 
ark,  and  the  ai)proach  of  thy  priest:  but  the 
old  man  is  an  enemy  f;ir  more  formidable  than 
tlie  best  disciplined  arniius,  and  it  is  harder  to 
conquer,  the  passions  than  to  beat  down  the 
walls  of  a  city!  ()  help  us  to  subdue  this  old 
man,  as  thou  hast  assisted  ua  to  ovcrcumo 


other  enemies!  Enable  us  to  triunijih  over 
our  passions  as  thou  hast  enabled  us  to  succeed 
in  levelling  the  walls  of  a  city!  Stretch  out 
thy  holy  arm  in  our  favour,  in  this  churcli, 
as  in  the  field  of  battle!  So  be  the  protector 
botii  of  tlie  state  and  the  church,  crown  our 
efforts  with  such  success,  that  we  may  offer 
the  most  noble  songs  of  praise  to  thy  glory. 
Amen. 


SERMON  LXIIL* 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


HosE.4  vi.  4. 

0  Ephi-aim,  what  shall  I  do  unto  thte?  0  Judah, 
what  shall  1  do  itnlo  thee?  Fur  your  goodness 
is  as  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it 
gocth  away. 

TiiE  church  has  seldom  seen  happier  days 
than  those  described  in  the  nineteenth  chapter 
of  E.xodus.  God  had  never  diffused  his  bene- 
dictions on  a  people  in  a  richer  abundance. 
Never  had  a  people  gratitude  more  lively, 
piety  more  fervent.  The  Red  Sea  had  been 
passed,  Pharaoh  and  his  insolent  court  were 
buried  in  the  waves,  access  to  the  land  of  pro- 
mise was  opened,  Moses  had  been  admitted 
on  the  holy  mountain  to  derive  felicity  from 
God  the  source,  and  sent  to  distribute  it 
amongst  his  countrymen;  to  these  choice  fa- 
vours promi.ses  of  new  and  greater  blessings 
were  yet  added,  and  God  said,  "ye  have  seen 
what  I  did  unto  the  Egyptians,  and  how  I  bare 
you  on  eagles'  wings,  and  brought  you  unto 
myself.  Now  therefore,  if  ye  will  obey  my 
voice  indeed,  and  keep  iny  covenant,  then  ye 
shall  be  a  peculiar  treasure  unto  me,  above 
all  people,  although  the  earth  be  mine,"  ver. 
4,  5.  The  people  were  deeply  atlected  with 
this  collection  of  miracles.  Each  individual 
entered  into  the  same  views,  and  seemed  ani- 
mated with  the  same  passion,  all  hearts  were 
united,  and  one  voice  expressed  the  sense  of 
all  the  tribes  of  Israel,  "  All  that  the  Lord  • 
hath  sjjoken  we  will  do,"  ver.  8.  But  this 
devotion  had  one  great  defect,  it  lasted  only 
forty  days.  In  forty  days  the  deliverance  out 
of  Egypt,  the  catastrojilie  of  Fharoah,  the  pas- 
sage through  the  sea,  the  articles  of  the  cove- 
nant; ill  forty  days  vows,  promises,  oaths,  all 
were  effaced  from  the  heart  and  forgotten. 
Moses  was  absent,  the  lightning  did  not  glitter, 
the  thunder  claps  did  not  roar,  and  the  Jews 
"  made  a  calf  in  Horeb,  worshipped  that  mol- 
ten image,  and  changed  their  glorious  God  into 
the  similitude  of  an  ox  that  ealetli  grass,"  I's. 
cxi.  19,  :.'0.  It  was  this  that  drew  upon  Moses 
this  cutting  reproof  from  God,  Go,  said  he  to 
Moses,  to  that  Moses  always  fervent  for  the 
salvation  of  his  pcojilc,  always  ready  to  plead 
for  them,  "go,  get  thee  down,  for  thy  people, 
which  thou  broughtest  out  of  the  'land  of 
Kgypt,  have  corrupted  themselves.  They  have 
(piickly  turned  aside  out  of  the  way  which  I 
commanded  them,"  E.\od.  xxxii.  1,  8.     They 

■  Prcaclied  Ihr  firsl  Lord'»  day  olllje  year  1710.    Tfic 

1  Lurd'a  Bumper  diijf. 


Ser.  LXIII.] 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


83 


have  quickly  turned  aside,  tnia  is  the  great  de- 
fect of  their  devotion,  tliis  is  that  whicl»  ren- 
ders all  devotion  incomplete. 

Do  you  know  this  portrait,  my  brethren? 
Has  this  history  nothint;  in  it  like  yours?  Arc 
any  days  more  solenui  than  such  as  we  observe 
in  our  present  circum.stances?  Did  (iod  ever 
draw  near  to  us  with  more  favours  than  he  has 
this  day?  Did  we  ever  approach  him  with 
more  fervour?  On  the  one  hand,  tiic  bpiriiminjf 
of  another  year  recalls  to  mind  the  seriuus  ai\d 
alarming  discourses,  which  the  ministers  of  .Ic- 
sus  Christ  addressed  to  us  on  tiic  hist  anniver- 
sary, the  many  strokes  given,  to  whom?  To  the 
enemies  of  God?  Alas!  To  the  stiile  and  the 
church!  Many  cut  oil"  in  the  field  of  battle, 
many  others  carried  away  in  tiie  ordinary  and 
inevitable  course  of  tbinirs,  man)'  perils,  in  one 
word,  with  which  we  were  threatened,  but  which 
thy  mercy,  O  God,  has  freed  us  from!  On  the 
otlier  hand  this  sacred  table,  these  aucrust  sym- 
bols, these  earnests  of  our  eternal  felicity,  all 
these  objects,  do  tliey  not  render  this  day  one 
of  the  most  singular  in  our  lives? 

If  heaven  has  tims  heard  the  earth  (wo  arc 
happy  to  acknowledge  it,  my  brethren,  and  we 
eagerly  embrace  this  opportunity  of  pui)lisliing 
your  praise)  the  earth  has  heard  the  lieaven. 
To  judge  by  a))pearance,  you  have  answered 
our  wishes,  and  exceeded  our  hopes.  You 
were  exhorted  to  prepare  for  the  Lord's  supper, 
you  did  prepare  for  it.  You  were  called  to 
public  worship,  you  came.  You  were  exhort- 
ed to  attend  to  the  word  of  God,  you  did  at- 
tend to  it.  You  were  required  to  form  resolu- 
tions of  a  holy  lif(%  you  made  these  resolutions. 
It  seemed,  while  we  saw  you  come  with  united 
ardour  this  morning  to  the  table  of  .lesus  Christ, 
it  seemed  as  if  we  heard  you  say,  with  the. Is- 
raelites of  old,  "  All  that  the  Lord  hath  spo- 
ken we  will  do." 

But  we  declare,  my  brethren,  a  cloud  comes 
over  the  bright  scene  of  tiiis  solemnity.  I  fear, 
shall  I  say  the  forty?  alas,  1  fear  the  four  suc- 
ceeding days!  These  doors  will  be  shut,  this 
table  will  be  removed,  the  voice  of  the  servîints 
of  God  will  cea.'^o  to  sound  in  your  ears,  and  I 
fear  the  Lord  will  say  of  you,  "  they  have 
quickly  turned  aside  out  of  the  way  which  I 
commanded  them." 

Let  lis  not  content  ourselves  with  foreseeing 
this  evil,  let  us  endeavour  to  prevent  it.  This 
is  the  design  of  the  present  discourse,  in  which 
we  will  treat  of  transient  devotions.  To  you, 
in  the  name  of  God,  wc  address  the  words,  the 
tender  words,  which  will  occasion  more  reflec- 
tions than  they  may  seem  at  first  to  do,  but 
which  no  reflections  can  exhaust,  "  O  Ephraim, 
what  shall  I  do  unto  tiiec?  O  .ludah,  what 
shall  I  do  \mto  thee?  For  your  goodness  is  as  a 
morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it  goeth 
away." 

.  O  Almighty  God!  We  humbly  beseech  thee, 
enable  us  in  the  offerings  we  make  to  thee  to 
resemble  thee  in  the  favours  which  thou  be- 
stowest  upon  us!  Thy  gifts  to  us  arc  icilhout 
reptnta)ice,  thy  covenant  with  us  contains  this 
clause,  "  the  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the 
hills  be  removed,  but  my  kindness  shall  not 
depart  from  thee,  neitiier  shall  the  covenant 
of  my  peace  be  removed.  1  have  sworn  that 
I  will  not  be  wroth  with  thee!"    O  that  our  of- 


ferings to  thee  may  be  without  repentance!  O 
that  we  may  be  able  to  reply,  "  the  mountains 
shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed,  hid  my 
fidilily  shall  never  depart  from  thee,  neither 
shall  the  dedication  vhirh  I  hare  made  nf  myself 
tn  thee,  ever  bo  removed!  I  have  sworn,  and  I 
will  perform  it,  that  I  will  keep  thy  righteous 
judgments."     Amen. 

"  O  I'.phraini,  what  shall  I  do  >mto  thee?  O 
.ludali,  what  shall  1  do  unto  thee?"  l-'.phraim, 
.lii<!ah,  arc  terms  of  the  text  that  have  very 
little  need  of  explication.  You  know  that  the 
people  of  God  were  united  in  one  state  till  the 
time  of  Jeroboam,  when  he  rent  apart  from 
Jlelioboam  the  son  of  Solomon,  thus  two  king- 
doms were  constituted,  that  of  .ludah  and  that 
of  Israel.  .h;rusaleni  was  the  ca])ital  city  of 
.ludah,  and  of  Israel  Samaria  was  the  metropo- 
lis, and  it  is  sometimes  called  J''phraim  in 
Scripture.  Ry  Jiidah  and  Ephraim  the  prophet 
then  means  both  thes<!  kingdojns.  This  wants 
no  proof,  and  if  there  be  any  tiling  worth  re- 
marking on  this  occasion,  it  is  tliat  most  inter- 
]>reters,  who  are  often  the  echoes  of  one  an- 
other, describe  the  ministry  of  Ilosea  as  direct- 
ed only  to  the  kingdom  of  Israel,  whereas  it  is 
clear  by  the  text,  and  by  several  other  pas- 
sages, that  it  was  addressed  both  to  Israel  and 
Judah. 

But  of  all  unlucky  conjectures,  I  question 
whether  there  be  one  more  so  than  that  of 
some  divines,  who  think  our  text  prophetical. 
Jn  tlieir  opinion  the  gnndness  mentioned  in  the 
text  is  the  mercy  of  God  displayed  in  the 
gospel.  The  drw  signifies  .Tcsus  Christ.  The 
morning,  "  thy  goodness  is  like  the  morning 
dew,"  intends  the  covenant  of  grace.  As  every 
one  proposes  his  opinion  under  some  appear- 
ance of  evidence,  it  is  said  in  favour  of  this, 
that  the  expression,  thy  s:nodnrs!<,  does  not  sig- 
nify the  goodness  of  the  people,  but  that  which 
is  manifested  to  the  people,  and  in  proof  of 
this  the  idiom  of  the  Hebrew  tongue  is  alleg- 
ed, with  divers  pas-sages  th;it  justify  this  tour 
of  expression,  as  this,  "  my  people  are  bent  to 
their  backsliding,"  that  is  to  backsliding  from 
me.  The  dew,  say  they,  signifies  the  Messialt, 
for  he  is  promised  under  tiiat  emblem  in  many 
passages  of  Scripture.  They  add  farther,  the 
mominj::  signifies  the  new  dispensation  of  the 
gospel,  which  is  often  announced  under  this 
idea  by  the  prophets,  and  all  this  text,  "  thy 
goodness  is  as  the  early  dew  which  goeth 
away,"  opens  a  wonderful  contrast  between 
the  law  and  the  gospel.  The  law  was  like  a 
storm  of  hail  destroying  the  fruits  of  the  earth, 
but  the  gospel  is  a  dew  that  makes  every  thing 
fruitful."  The  law  was  a  dark  night,  but  the 
gospel  was  a  fine  day;  "  thy  goodness  is  like 
the  morning  dew  which  goeth  away,"  that  is 
to  say,  which  c«meth.  Here  are  many  good 
truths  out  of  place.  Thy  e;nodness  may  signify, 
for  any  thing  we  know,  goodness  e.xercised  to- 
wards thee;  the  Messiah  is  represented  as  a 
deic;  the  gospel  economy  is  promised  under  the 
emblem  of  the  mormnp;;  all  this  is  true,  but  all 
this  is  not  the  sense  of  the  text.  The  word 
goodness,  which  is  the  first  mistake  of  the  ex- 
position just  now  given,  may  be  understood  of 
piety  in  general.  It  has  that  meaning  in  many 
passages  of  Scripture.  The  substantive  derived 
from  it  is  usually  put  for  pious  persons,  and 


84 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


[See.  LXm. 


accordinfr  to  a  celebrated  critic,  it  is  from  the 
word  hasidiin,  the  pious,  that  the  word  Essenes 
is  derived,  a  name  given  to  the  '.vholo  sect 
among  tlio  Jews,  because  they  professed  a 
more  eminent  piety  ttian  others.  A  "  good- 
ness like  the  morning  dew"  is  a  seeming  piety, 
"  wliich  goeth  away,"  that  is  of  a  short  dura- 
tion, and  ail  these  words,  "O  Ephraim,  what 
shall  I  do  unto  thee?  O  Judah,  what  shall  I 
do  unto  thee?  for  your  goodness  is  as  a  morn- 
ing cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it  goelii  away," 
are  a  reproof  from  God  to  his  people  for  the 
unsteadiness  of  their  devotions.  In  this  light 
we  will  consider  the  text,  and  show  you  first 
the  nature — and  secondly  the  unprofitableness 
of  transient  devotions. 

I.  Let  us  first  inquire  the  nature  of  tlie  piety 
in  question.  \Vhat  is  this  goodiuss  or  piety, 
that  "  is  as  a  morning  cloud,  and  goeth  away 
as  the  early  dew.'"  We  do  not  understand  by 
this  piety  either  those  deceitful  appearances  of 
hypocrites,  who  conceal  tlieir  profane  and  irre- 
ligious hearts  under  the  cover  of  ardour  and 
religion,  or  the  disposition  of  those  Christians, 
who  fall  through  their  own  frailty  from  high 
degrees  of  pious  zeal,  and  experience  emotions 
of  sin  after  they  have  felt  exercises  of  grace. 
The  devotion  we  mean  to  describe  goes  farther 
than  the  first:  but  it  does  not  go  so  far  as  the 
last. 

The  transient  devotion,  of  which  we  speak, 
is  not  hypocrisy.  Hypocrisy  cannot  suspend 
the  strokes  of  divine  justice  one  single  moment, 
and  it  is  more  likely  to  inflame  than  to  extin- 
guish the  righteous  indignation  of  God.  It  is 
not  to  hypocrites  that  God  addresses  this  ten- 
der language,  "  O  Ephraim,  what  shall  I  do 
unto  thee.'  O  Judah,  what  shall  I  do  unto 
thee.'"  Their  sentence  is  declared,  their  pun- 
ishment is  ready.  "  Ye  hypocrites,  well  did 
Esaias  prophecy  of  you,  saying,  this  people 
draweth  nigh  unto  me  with  their  mouth,  and 
honoureth  me  with  tlieir  lips,  but  tlieir  heart  is 
far  from  me.  Wo  unto  you,  scribes  and  Phari- 
sees, hypocrites.  Tlie  portion  of  hypocrites 
shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,"  Matt. 
XV.  7;  xxiii.  31,  and  xxiv.  51. 

Nor  is  the  piety  we  mean  to  describe  that 
of  the  weak  and  revolting  believer.  How  im- 
perfect soever  this  piety  may  be,  yet  it  is  real. 
It  is  certainly  a  very  mortifying  consideration 
to  a  believer  that  he  should  be  at  any  time 
hemmed  in,  confined,  and  clogged,  in  his  de- 
votional exercises.  In  some  golden  days  of  his 
life,  forgetting  tlie  world,  and  wholly  employ- 
ed about  heavenly  things,  how  happy  was  he, 
how  delicious  his  enjoyments,  when  he  sur- 
mounted sense  and  sin,  ascended  to  God  like 
Moses  formerly  on  the  holy  mount,  and  there 
conversed  with  his  heavenly  Father  concern- 
ing religion,  salvation,  and  eternity!  O  how 
richly  did  lie  llieii  think  himself  indemnified 
for  tho  loss  of  time  in  worldly  pursuits  by  pour- 
ing his  complaints  into  the  bosom  of  God,  by 
opening  all  his  heart,  by  saying  to  him  will» 
iiLspired  men,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee!  it  is  good  lor  me  to  draw  near  to  (îod! 
My  soul  is  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and  fatness, 
and  my  mouth  shall  praise  thee  with  joyful 
lips!"  I  say,  it  is  a  very  mortifying  thing  to 
him,  after  such  elevations  in  the  enjoyment  of 
such  magnificent  objects,  to  be  obliged  through 


the  frailty  of  his  nature  to  go  down  again  into 
the  world,  and  to  employ  himself  about  what' 
A  suit  of  clothes,  a  menial  servant,  a  nothing! 
Above  all,  it  is  very  mortifying  to  him,  after 
he  has  tasted  pleasure  so  pure,  to  feel  himself 
disposed  to  sin!  But  after  all,  this  piety,  though 
very  imperfect,  is  genuine  and  true.  It  should 
humble  us,  but  it  should  not  destroy  us,  and 
we  should  bo  animated  with  a  spirit  too  rigid, 
were  wo  to  confound  this  piety  with  that, 
which  "  is  as  the  morning  cloud,  tind  as  the 
early  dew  that  goeth  away." 

The  piety  we  si)eak  of  lies  between  these 
two  dispositions.  As  I  said  before,  it  dges  not 
go  so  far  in  religion  as  the  second,  but  it  docs 
go  beyond  the  first.  It  is  sincere,  in  that  it  is 
superior  to  hypocrisy;  but  it  is  unfruitful,  and 
in  that  respect  it  is  inferior  to  the  piety  of  the 
weak  and  revolting  Christian.  It  is  suflicient 
to  discover  sin,  but  not  to  correct  it;  suflicient 
to  produce  sincere  resolutions,  but  not  to  keep 
tliem:  it  softens  the  heart,  but  it  does  not  re- 
new it;  it  excites  grief,  but  it  does  not  eradi- 
cate evil  dispositions.  It  is  a  piety  of  times, 
opportunities,  and  circumstances,  diversified 
a  thousand  ways,  the  effect  of  innumerable 
causes,  and,  to  be  more  particular,  it  usually 
ows  its  origin  to  public  calamities,  or  to  solemn 
festivals,  or  to  the  approach  of  death:  but  it 
expires  as  soon  as  the  causes  are  removed. 

1 .  By  piety,  "  like  the  early  dew  that  goeth 
away,"  we  mean  that  which  is  usually  excited 
by  public  calamilies.  When  a  state  prospers, 
when  its  commerce  flourishes,  when  its  armies 
are  victorious,  it  acquires  weight  and  conse- 
quence in  the  world.  Prosperity  is  usually 
productive  of  crimes.  Conscience  falls  asleep 
during  a  tumult  of  passions,  as  depravity 
continues  security  increases,  the  patience  of 
God  becomes  weary,  and  he  punishes  either  by 
taking  away  prosperity,  or  by  threatening  to 
take  it  away.  Tlie  terrible  messengers  of  di- 
vine justice  open  their  commission.  The  winds 
which  he  makes  his  angels,  begin  to  utter  their 
voices:  flames  of  fire,  constituted  his  ministers, 
display  their  frightful  light.  Pestilence,  war, 
famine,  executioners  of  the  decrees  of  heaven, 
prepare  to  discharge  their  dreadful  office.  One 
messenger  called  death,  and  another  called  hell, 
receive  their  bloody  commission,  "  to  kill  with 
sword,  and  with  hunger,  and  with  death,  the 
fourth  part  of  the  earth,"  Rev.  vi.  8.  Each 
individual  sees  his  own  doom  in  the  public 
decree.  "  Capernaum  exalted  to  heaven  is 
going  to  be  thrust  down  to  hell,"  Luke  x.  15. 
.Jonah  walks  about  Nineveh,  and  makes  the 
walks  echo  with  this  alarming  proclamation, 
"  Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh  sliall  be  over- 
thrown. Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh  shall  be 
overthrown,"  chap.  iii.  4.  Or,  to  lay  aside 
borrowed  names,  and  to  make  our  portrait  like 
tlie  original,  your  ministers  free  from  their 
natural  timidity  or  indolence,  despising  those 
petty  tyrants,  or  shall  I  rather  say  those  diminu- 
tive insects,  who  amidst  a  free  people  would 
have  us  the  only  slaves;  who  while  all  kinds 
of  vices  have  free  course  would  have  the  word 
of  Hod  bound,  and  would  reduce  the  exercise 
of  the  reform  ministry  to  a  state  more  mean 
and  pusillanimous  than  that  of  court  bishops, 
or  the  chaplains  of  kings;  I  say,  your  ministers 
have  made  you  hear  their  voice,  they  have 


Ser.  LXIII.] 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


85 


gone  back  to  your  ori^n,  and  laid  before  you 
the  cruel  edicts,  the  sanguinary  proscriptions, 
the  barbarous  executions,  the  heaps  of  mangled 
carcasses,  whicli  were,  if  I  may  so  ppeak,  tiic 
first  foundations  of  this  republic.     From  what 
you  were  tlien  they  have  proceeded  to  what 
you  are  now;  tiioy  have  represented  to  you  the 
end  proposed  by  the  Supreme  Heing  in  distin- 
guishing you  by  so  many  merciful  advantages; 
they  have  told  you  it  was  to  engage  you  to  in- 
form idolatrous  nations  of  tlie  truth,  to  nourish 
and  favour  it  in  cruel  and  persecuting  countries, 
to  support  it  at  home,  and  so  to  cast  out  pro- 
fanencss,  infidelity,  and  atheism.     They  have 
repeatedly  urged  you  to  come  to  a  settlement 
of  accounts  on  these  subjects,  and  they  have 
delivered  in  against  you  sucli  au  interrogatory 
as  this;  are  the  "  hands  winch  hang  down,  and 
the  feeble  knees  lifted  up?"     Does  superstition 
cover  the  trutii  in  any  places  of  your  govern- 
ment'    Is   the   affliction  of  Joseph  neglected? 
Does  irreligion  insolently  lift  its  head  among 
you,  and  is  it  protected  by  such  as  are  bound 
to  suppress   it'     They  have   shown  you   tho 
Deity  ready  to  punish  an  obstinate  perseverance 
in  sin,  and,  if  you  will  forgive  the  expression, 
they  have  preached,  illuminated  by  ligiitning, 
and  their  exhortations  have  been  enforced  by 
thunder.    Then  every  one  was  struck,  all  hearts 
were  united,  every  one  ran  to  tiie  "  breach,  to 
turn  away  the  wrath  of  God,  lest  he  should 
destroy  us  all,"  Ps.  cvi.  23.     The  magistrate 
came  down  from   his  tribunal,  the  merchant 
quitted  his  commerce,  the  mechanic  laid  aside 
his  work,  yea  the  very  libertine  suspended  his 
pleasures;  vows,  prayers,  solemn  protestations, 
tears,  relentings,  promises,  sincere   promises, 
nothing  was  wanting  to  your  devotions.     Then 
the    angels    rejoiced,    a    compassionate    God 
smiled,  the  corn  revived,  war  was  hushed,  and 
was  dying  away;  but  along  with  the  first  tide 
of  prosperity  came  rolling  back  the  former  de- 
pravity, the  same   indifference  to  truth,   the 
same  negligence  of  religion,  the  same  infidelity, 
the  same  profanity.     This  is  the  first  kind  of 
that  piety,  which  is  "  as  the  early  dew  that 
goeth  away."     Let  us  study  ourselves  in  the 
image  of  the  Jews  described  in  the  context. 
"  Come,"  say  they,  when  the  prophet  had  pre- 
dicted the  Babylonish  captivity  to  Judah,  and 
the  carrying  away  into  Assyria  to  the  ten  tribes, 
"  come,-  and  let  us  return  unto  the  Lord,  for 
he  hath  torn,  and  he  will  heal  us,  he  hath 
smitten,  and  he  will  bind  us  up.     After  two  or 
three  days  he  will  revive  us,  and  we  shall  live 
in  his  sight,"  ver.  12.     "After  they  had  rest, 
they  did  evil  again  before  thee"  (these  are  the 
words  of  Nehemiah,)   "  tiierefore  thou  didst 
leave  them  in  the  hand  of  their  enemies.  When 
they  returned,  and  cried  unto  thee,  thou  heard- 
est  them  from  heaven,  and  many  times  didst 
thou  deliver  them,  according  to  thy  mercies. 
O  Ephraim,  what  shall  I  do  unto  tliee?     O  Ju- 
dah, what  shall  I  do  unto  thee?  for  your  good- 
ness is  as  the  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early 
dew  it  goeth  away,"  chap.  ix.  28. 

2.  In  a  second  class  of  transient  devotions 
we  place  that  which  religious  solemnities  pro- 
duce. Providence  always  watching  for  our 
salvation,  has  established  in  the  church  not 
only  an  ordinary  ministry  to  cultivate  our  piety, 
but  some  extraordinary  periods  proper  to  in- 


vigorate and  bring  it  to  maturity,  thus  propor- 
tioning itself  to  our  frailty.  How  considerable 
soever  the  truths  of  religion  are,  it  is  certain 
they  lijse  their  importance  by  our  hearing 
tlieui  always  proposed  in  the  same  circum- 
stances, and  the  same  points  of  light.  There 
arc  some  days  which  put  on  I  know  not  what 
of  the  extraordinary,  and  put  in  motion,  so  to 
spi.'ak,  ti)e  first  great  powers  of  religion.  To 
tills  our  festivals  are  directed,  and  tliis  is  one 
of  the  principal  uses  of  tiio  Lord's  Supper. 
Were  this  ordinance  not  aj)pointed  with  tiiis 
view  as  some  affirm,  had  not  God  annexed 
some  |)eculiar  benediction  to  it,  yet  it  would 
be  a  weak  pretence  to  keep  from  the  Lord's 
table,  and  tho  use  generally  granted  would 
always  be  a  suflicient  reason  to  induce  those  to 
frequent  it  who  liave  their  salvation  at  heart. 
But  however  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  such 
days  occasion  the  sort  of  devotion  we  are  de- 
scribing, and  usually  produce  a  piety  "  like  the 
morning  cloud,  and  the  early  dew  that  goeth 
away." 

We  do  not  intend  here  to  describe  a  kind  of 
Christians  too  odious  to  be  put  even  into  this 
vicious  cla.ss.  For,  my  brethren,  we  have  a 
very  singular  sort  of  people  among  us,  who, 
though  they  live  in  the  practice  of  all  worldly 
licentiousness,  will  frequent  the  Lord's  table, 
in  spite  of  all  the  pains  we  take  to  show  their 
unworthiness,  and  to  keep  them  away.  They 
will  pass  tlirough  a  kind  of  preparation,  and 
for  this  purpose  they  retrench  a  little  portion 
of  time  from  their  course  of  licentiousness,  set 
out,  however,  with  so  much  accurate  calcula- 
tion that  it  is  easy  to  see  they  consider  devotion 
more  in  the  light  of  a  disagreeable  task  than  in 
that  of  a  holy  enjoyment.  They  suspend  their 
habits  of  sin  the  whole  day  before,  and  all  the 
live  long  day  after  the  communion.  In  tliis 
interval  they  receive  the  Lord's  Supper,  all 
the  while  determining  to  return  to  their  old 
course  of  life.  What  devotion!  in  which  the 
soul  burns  with  love  to  worldly  pleasure,  while 
it  affects  to  play  off  the  treacherous  part  of  love 
to  religion  and  God!  A  devotion  that  disputes 
with  Jesus  Christ  a  right  to  three  days,  gives 
them  up  with  regret  and  constraint,  and  keeps 
all  along  murmuring  at  the  genius  of  a  reli- 
gion, which  puts  the  poor  insulted  soul  on  the 
rack,  and  forces  it  to  live  three  whole  days 
without  gaming  and  debauchery!  A  devotion 
deep  in  the  plot  of  Judas  to  betray  the  Saviour 
at  his  own  table!  These  people  need  not  be 
characterized.  We  never  administer  the  Lord's 
Supper  without  protesting  against  them;  we 
never  say  any  tiling  to  them  but  "  Wo,  wo  be 
to  you;"  and  though,  through  a  discipline  of 
too  much  lenity,  they  escape  excommunication, 
yet  never  can  they  escape  the  anathemas,  which 
God  in  his  word  denounces  against  unworthy 
communicants. 

We  mean  here  people  of  another  character. 
It  is  he  among  Christians  who  does  not  live  in 
the  practice  of  all  sins,  but  who  does  reserve 
some,  and  some  of  those  which,  says  the  gospel, 
they  who  commit  "shall  not  inherit  the  king- 
dom of  God,"  1  Cor.  vi.  10.  This  man  does 
not  with  a  brutal  madness  commit  such  crimes 
as  harden  him  beyond  reflection  and  remorse, 
but  he  has  a  sincere  desire  to  a  certain  degree 
to  correct  himself.     He  takes  time  enough  to 


86 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


[Ser.  LXIII. 


prepare  himself  for  the  Lord's  Supper,  and 
then  he  examines  his  conscience,  meditates  on 
the  great  truths  of  rehgion,  tlie  justice  of  its 
laws,  tlic  lioliness  of  every  part,  and  the  rich 
present  which  God  bestowed  on  tlie  cliurch  in 
the  person  of  his  own  Son.  He  is  affected 
with  the.fe  objects,  lie  applies  these  truths  to 
himself,  he  promises  God  to  reform:  but,  in  a 
few  days  after  the  comnnmion,  he  not  only 
falls  into  one  or  t\vo  vicious  actions,  but  he 
gives  himself  up  to  a  vicious  habit,  and  per- 
sists in  it  till  the  next  commimion,  when  he 
goes  over  again  the  same  exces.'jes  of  devotion, 
which  end  again  in  the  same  vices,  and  so  his 
whole  life  is  a  continual  round  of  sin  and  re- 
pentance, repentance  and  sin.  This  is  a  second 
sort  of  people  whose  devotions  are  transient. 

3.  But,  of  all  devotions  of  this  kind,  that 
which  needs  describing  the  most,  because  it 
comes  nearest  to  true  piety,  and  is  most  likely 
to  be  confounded  with  it,  is  that  which  is  ex- 
cited by  the  "  fear  of  death,"  and  which  van- 
ishes as  soon  as  the  fear  subsides. 

The  most  emphatical,  the  most  urgent,  and 
the  most  pathetical  of  all  preachers  is  death. 
What  can  be  said  in  this  pulpit  which  death 
does  not  say  with  tenfold  force?  What  truth 
can  we  explain,  which  death  does  not  explain 
with  more  evidence?  Do  we  treat  of  the  vanity 
of  the  world?  So  does  death;  but  with  much 
more  power.  The  impenetrable  veils  which  it 
throws  over  all  terrestrial  objects,  the  midnight 
darkness  in  which  it  involves  them,  the  irrevo- 
cable orders  it  gives  us  to  depart,  the  insur- 
mountable power  it  employs  to  tear  us  away, 
represent  the  vanity  of  the  world  better  than 
the  most  pathetical  sermons.  Do  we  speak  of 
the  horrors  of  sin?  Death  treats  of  tliis  siib- 
ject  more  fully  and  forcibly  than  we;  tlie  pains 
it  brings,  the  marks  it  makes  upon  us  while 
we  are  dying,  the  grave,  to  which  it  turns  our 
eyes  as  our  habitation  after  death,  represent 
the  horror  of  sin  more  than  the  most  affecting 
discourses.  Do  we  speak  of  the  value  of  di^ 
vine  mercy?  Death  excels  in  setting  this  forth 
too;  hell  opening  under  us,  executioners  of  di- 
vine vengeance  ranging  themselves  round  our 
bed,  the  sharp  instruments  held  over  us,  repre- 
sent the  mercy  of  God  more  fully  than  the 
most  touching  discourses.  No  sermons  like 
these!  When  then  a  sickness  supposed  to  be 
mortal  attacks  a  man,  who  has  knowledge  and 
sentiment  enough  to  render  him  accessible  to 
motives  and  reflections,  but  who  has  not  either 
respect  enough  for  holiness,  or  love  enough  for 
God  tliorougiily  to  attach  himself  to  virtue, 
then  rises  this  "  morning  cloud,  this  early  dew 
thatgoeth  away." 

I  appeal  to  many  of  you.  Recall,  each  of 
you,  that  memorable  day  of  your  life,  in  which 
sudden  fear,  dangerous  symptoms,  exquisite 
pain,  a  pale  physician,  and,  more  than  all  that, 
a  universal  faintnosa  and  imbecility  of  your 
faculties  seemed  to  condemn  you  to  a  hasty 
death.  Remember  the  prudence  you  have  had, 
at  least  appeared  to  have,  to  make  salvation 
your  only  care,  banishing  all  company,  forbid- 
ding your  own  children  to  approach,  and  con- 
versing with  your  pastor  alone.  Remember 
the  docility  with  which,  renouncing  all  reluc- 
tance to  speak  of  your  own  faults,  and  iill 
desire  to  hear  of  tliose  of  other  people,  you  re- 


spectfully attended  to  every  thing  wo  took  the 
lil)erty  to  say,  we  entered  on  the  mortifying 
subject,  you  submitted  to  the  most  humbling 
and  circumstantial  detail,  you  yourself  filled 
up  the  list  with  articles  unknown  to  us.  Re- 
collect the  sighs  you  uttered,  the  tears  you  shed, 
the  reproofs  you  gave  yourself,  yea,  tlie  odious 
names  by  whicii  you  described  yourself.  Re- 
member the  vows,  the  resolutions,  the  promises 
you  made.  What  are  become  of  all  tliese  fine 
projects  of  conversion  and  repentance,  which 
should  have  had  an  influence  over  all  your  life? 
The  degree  of  your  piety  was  regulated  by  the 
degree  of  your  malady.  Devotion  rose  and 
fell  with  your  pulse.  Your  zeal  kept  time 
with  your  fever,  and  as  the  one  decreased  the 
other  died  away,  and  the  recovery  of  your 
health  was  the  resurrection  of  sin.  This  man, 
this  praying  man,  this  holy  soul,  then  full  of 
pious  ejaculations  and  meditations,  is  now  brim- 
ful of  the  world.  You  are  the  original  of  the 
portrait  in  tlie  text,  and  your  piety  is  "as  the 
morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  that  goeth 
away." 

II.  We  have  seen  the  nature,  now  let  us  at- 
tend to  the  insufficiency  of  this  kind  of  devotion. 
Let  us  endeavour  in  this  second  part  of  our  dis- 
course to  feel  the  energy  of  this  reproof,  "  O 
Ephraim,  what  shall  I  do  imto  thee?  O  Judah, 
what  shall  I  do  unto  thee?  for  your  goodness  is 
as  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it 
goeth  away." 

1.  On  a  day  like  this,  in  which  we  have  par- 
taken of  what  is  most  tender  in  religion,  and  in 
which  we  ought  to  yield  to  the  soft  feelings 
which  religion  is  so  fit  to  excite,  let  us  advert 
to  a  singular  kind  of  argument  proposed  in  the 
text  against  transient  devotions,  that  is,  an  ar- 
gument of  sentiment  and  love. 

Certainly  all  the  images  which  it  pleases  God 
to  use  in  Scripture  to  make  himself  known  to 
us,  those  taken  from  our  infirmities,  our  pas- 
sions, our  hatred,  or  our  love,  all  are  too  im- 
perfect to  represent  a  God,  whose  elevation 
«above  man  renders  it  impossible  to  describe  him 
by  any  thing  human.  However,  all  these 
images  have  a  bottom  of  truth,  a  real  meaning 
agreeable  to  the  nature  of  God,  and  propor- 
tioned to  his  eminent  and  infinite  excellence. 

God  represents  himself  here  under  the  imago 
of  a  prince  who  had  formed  an  intimate  con- 
nexion with  one  of  his  subjects.  The  subject 
seems  deeply  sensible  of  the  honour  done  him. 
The  prince  signifies  his  esteem  by  a  profusion 
of  favours.  The  subject  aliuses  them.  The 
prince  reprehends  him.  The  subject  is  insen- 
sible and  hard.  To  reproofs  throatenings  are 
added,  and  tlireatenings  are  succeeded  by  a  sus- 
pension of  favours.  The  subject  seems  moved, 
aflccted,  changed.  Tlie  prince  receives  the 
penitent  with  open  arms,  and  crowns  his  re- 
fijrmation  with  a  double  etlusion  of  bountiful 
donations.  The  ungrateful  subject  abuses  them 
again.  The  prince  reproves  him  again,  threat- 
ens him  again,  and  again  suspends  his  liberality. 
To  avert  the  same  evil  the  selfish  ingrate  makes 
use  of  the  former  method,  avails  himself  of  the 
influence  which  the  esteem  of  the  prince  gives 
him,  and  again  he  obtains  forgiveness.  The 
prince  loves  this  violence:  but  the  perfidious 
subject  knowing  his  goodness  returns  to  his  un- 
grateful behaviour  oa  often  as  his  bountiful  lord 


Ser.  LXIIL] 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


87 


yields  to  his  own  inclination  to  mercy  and  es- 
teem, and  thus  becomes  equally  barbarous,  whe- 
ther lie  seems  atiected  with  the  benevolence  of 
his  prince,  or  whether  he  seems  to  despise  it. 
For,  my  l)rethren,  it  is  much  less  diilicult  to 
separate   one's  self  wholly   from   a    faithless 
friend,  than  to  conduct  one's  self  properly  to 
one  who  is  iiiithless  only  by  fits.    These  equivo- 
cal reformations,  these  appearances  of  esteem, 
are  much  more-  cruel  than  total  ingratitude, 
and  open  avowed  hatred.    In  an  entire  rupture 
the  mind  is  presently  at  a  point:  but  in  such 
imperfect  connexions  as  tiiesc  a  thousand  oppo- 
site thoughts  produce  a  violent  conflict  in  tiie 
mind.     Siiall  1  countenance  ingratitude,  shall 
1  discourage  repentance?     I  repeat  it  again, 
thougli  this  image  is  infinitely  beneath  tiic  ma- 
jesty of  God,  yet  it  is  that  which  he  has  thought 
proper  to  employ.     "  O  Kpiiraiui,  wiiat  shall  I 
do  unto  tiice?     O  Judaii,  what  shall  1  do  unto 
thee.'  for  your  goodness  is  as  a  morning  cloud, 
and   as  the  early  dew   it  goelh   away."      O 
Ephraini,  O  Judaii,  why  do  you  rend  my  heart 
asunder  by  turns  with  your  virtue  and  your 
vice?     Why  not  allow  mo  either  to  give  myself 
entirely  to  you,  or  to  detacii  myself  entirely 
from  you?     Why  do  you  not  sufier  me  to  give 
a  free  course  either  to  my  esteem  or  to  my  dis- 
pleasure?    Why  do  you  not  allow  me  to  glorify 
myself  by  your  repentance,  or  by  your  ruin? 
Your  devotions  hold  my  hand:  your  crimes  in- 
flame my  anger.     Shall  I  destro)'  a  people  ap- 
pealing to  my  clemency?     Siiall  I  protect  a 
people  tram|)ling  upon  my  laws?    "  O  Ephraim, 
what  siiall  i  do  unto  tlice?    O  J  udaii,  what  siiall 
I  do  unto  tliee?  for  your  goodness  is  as  a  morn- 
ing cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it  goetii  away." 
2.  Consider  secondly,  tlie  injustice  of  these 
devotions.     Tiiougli  tliey  are  vain,  yet  people 
e.xpect  God  to  reward  tiiein.    Hear  these  words, 
"  tiioy  seeli  me  daily,  and  deliglit  to  know  my 
ways,  as  a  nation  tiiat  did  rigliteousness:"  but, 
"  say  tiiey,  wiierefore  iiave  wc  fasted,  and  tiiou 
seest  not?     Wiierefore  have  we  afflicted  our 
soul,  and  tiiou  taiiest  no  Itnowledge,"  Isa.  Iviii. 
5!,  3.     Tiiougii  tliesc  complaints  were  unjust, 
yet,  vviiat  is  very  remaritable,  God  sometimes 
paid  attention  to  tiiem;  for  though  lie  sees  the 
bottom  of  men's  liearts,  and  distinguishes  real 
from  apparent  piety,  yet  he  lias  so  much  love 
for  repentance,  that  iie  sometimes  rewards  tiie 
bare  a|)pearance  of  it.     See  iiow  he  conducts 
liimseif  in  regard  to  Aiiab.     Aiiab  was  a  wicli- 
ed  king.     God  denounced  judgments  against 
him,  and  was  about  to  inflict  tiieiu.     Aiiab  tore 
his  garments,  covered  himself  with  sackclotii 
and  ashes,  and  lay  in  tlie  dust.    Wiiat  said  God 
to  Elijali?     "  Seest  tliou  iiow  Aiiab  iiumliietii 
iiimsclf  liefore  nie?     Because  iie  iiumbletii  liim- 
seif before  me,  I  will  not  bring  the  evil,"    1 
Kings  -xxi.  'J9.     Nut  bring  tiie  evil!    Why,  has 
Aliab  proiiibitcd  idolatry?    Has  he  restored  Na- 
lioth's  vineyard?     Has  he  renounced  his  trea- 
ties witii  tlie  enemies  of  God?    No.    Yet  "Ahab 
iiiinil)leth  liimseif,  and  because  he  humbleth 
himself  I  will  not  bring  tiie  evil."     So  true  it 
is,  tiiat  God  sometimes  rewards  a  mere  shadow 
of  repentance. 

Tiie  Jews  knew  this  condescension  of  God, 
and  tiiey  insulted  it  in  tiie  most  odious  manner. 
"  Come,  let  us  return  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  hath 
torn,  and  ho  will  heal  us,  he  liath  smitten  and 


lie  will  bind  us  up.  After  two  days  will  he 
revive  ua,  in  the  third  day  ho  will  raise  us  up;" 
and  wiien  ho  has  "  raised  us  up,"  and  re-esta- 
blished us,  wo  will  follow  our  former  course  of 
life.  Wlien  the  tempest  is  over,  vvo  will  again 
blaspiieme  tiie  Creator  of  storms.  Is  not  this 
tiio  very  summit  of  injustice! 

3.  There  is,  let  us  oi)servc,  a  manifest  con- 
tradictiiin  between  these  two  periods  of  life,  be- 
tween that  of  our  devotion  and  tiiat  of  oursin. 
Wiiat  destroys  one,  necessarily  subverts  lx>th; 
and  a  reasonable  man  acting  consistently  ought 
to  ciioose,  eitlier  to  iiave  no  periods  of  devotion, 
or  to  perpetuate  tiiem.  Yes,  we  sliould  choose 
eitiier  a  real  inward  piety  to  influence  our  prac- 
tice, or  none  of  tiie  sujierficial  sentiments  tliat 
produce  a  profession  of  it.  We  should  choose 
eitlicr  to  act  openly  like  an  unmovcable  plii- 
iosoplier,  or  shall  I  ratlier  say  a  brute  beast, 
wiien  we  seem  to  1)0  upon  tiie  verge  of  tiie  grave, 
or  tliat  ttie  piety  e.xcited  tlicn  sliould  continue 
as  long  as  wo  live  in  case  of  recovery.  Tliero 
is  a  palpable  contradiction  in  having  botli  these 
dispositions.  Wlien  tlie  state  is  in  danger,  and 
a  solemn  fast  is  kept,  what  is  su|)posed?  That 
tiiere  is  a  just  God  governing  tiie  universe,  dis- 
pensing good  and  evil,  sooner  or  later  destroy- 
ing rebellious  nations,  and  exercising  a  justice 
more  or  less  severe  according  to  the  duration 
of  liis  patience.  If  we  believe  all  this,  we  should 
endeavour  to  regulate  the  state  by  tiiese  prin- 
ciples, and  if  we  do  not  Ijelieve  it,  we  siiould 
not  humble  ourselves,  and  fast,  and  "bow  down 
our  heads  like  a  bulrusii."  What  is  supposed 
by  tile  prayers,  and  tears,  and  protestations  we 
bring  to  the  table  of  Jesus  Christ'  That  God 
loves  us,  tiiat  he  has  so  loved  us  as  to  give  us 
liis  Son,  that  a  Cliristiaii  ought  to  return  Jesus 
Clirist  love  for  love,  and  life  for  life.  If  we  be- 
lieve tliis,  we  ouglit  to  be  always  faithful  to 
God,  and  if  we  do  not  believe  it,  we  ought  not 
to  communicate,  to  pray,  to  weep,  to  promise. 
What  is  supposed  by  all  the  appearance  of  de- 
votion we  iiave  in  sickness?  Tliat  the  soul  is 
immortal,  tliat  tiiere  is  a  future  state,  tliat  an 
eternity  of  iiappiness  or  misery  awaits  us.  If 
we  believe  this,  we  ougiit  to  regulate  our  ac- 
tions by  tliesc  trutiis,  and  if  we  do  not  believe 
it,  if  tiie  soul  be  not  immortal,  if  iieaven  and 
hell  bo  phantoms,  we  ought  not  to  put  on  aa 
appearance  of  religion  in  prospect  of  death. 
But  sucli  is  our  littleness,  when  we  lose  sight 
of  a  tiling,  we  tiiink  it  ceases  to  be.  When  we 
find  the  art  of  forgetting  truth,  it  should  seem 
trutii  is  no  more.  When  we  cease  thinking  of 
our  judge,  it  seems  to  us  there  is  no  judge.  We 
resemble  cliildren  wiio  shut  their  eyes  to  hide 
tliemselves  from  liie  sight  of  their  nurses. 

4.  Every  part  of  devotion  supposes  some 
action  of  life,  so  tiiat  if  tiiere  be  no  sucli  action 
tlie  whole  value  of  devotion  ceases.  We  hear 
a  sermon,  in  tliis  sermon  we  are  taught  some 
trutii  of  religion  which  has  a  close  and  insepa- 
rable connexion  with  our  moral  conduct.  We 
are  told  tiiat  a  judge  must  be  upright,  a  friend 
disinterested,  a  depository  faitiiful.  We  do 
well  to  be  attentive  to  this  sermon:  but  after  we 
have  heard  it,  wo  violate  all  the  rules,  if  we  be 
corrupt  judges,  ungrateful  friends,  faithless  de- 
positaries; and  if  because  we  have  heard  our 
duty  we  think  ourselves  discharged  from  the 
necessity  of  doing  it,  do  we  not  pervert  the 


88 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


[Ser.  Lxm. 


order  and  destination  of  this  discourse?  We 
receive  the  Lord's  Supper,  there  we  go  to  con- 
firm our  faith,  to  detach  ourselves  from  the 
world,  to  prepare  ourselves  for  a  future  state. 
We  do  well  to  receive  the  Lord's  Supper:  but 
if  after  we  have  received  it  we  become  lax  in 
believing,  fastened  to  the  world,  and  without 
thought  of  a  future  state,  and  if  wo  neglect 
these  duties,  under  pretence  that  we  took  steps 
relative  to  these  duties,  do  we  not  pervert  tiio 
Lord's  Supper?  This  reasoning  is  so  clear,  that 
it  seems  needless  to  pretend  to  elucidate  it. 
Yet  many  people  reason  in  this  manner,  I  have 
been  to  a  place  of  worship,  I  have  heard  a  ser- 
mon, I  have  received  the  communion,  and  now 
I  may  give  a  loose  to  my  passions:  but  it  is  be- 
cause you  have  been  to  a  place  of  worship,  it  is 
because  you  have  heard  a  sermon,  and  received 
the  communion,  it  is  on  account  of  this,  that 
you  ought  wholly  to  employ  yourself  about  that 
work,  to  promote  which  all  these  devotions 
were  appointed. 

6.  Transient  devotions  are  inconsistent  with 
the  general  design  of  religion.  This  design  is  to 
reform  man,  to  renew  him,  to  transform  him 
into  the  likeness  of  glorified  saints,  to  render 
him  like  God.  But  how  does  a  rapid  torrent 
of  devotion  attended  with  no  moral  rectitude 
contribute  to  this  end?  If  while  I  fast  I  eradi- 
cate the  world  from  my  heart,  if  while  I  ac- 
knowledge the  enormity  of  my  past  life  I  en- 
deavour to  reform  it,  if  while  I  give  mortal 
blows  to  the  old  man  I  form  the  new  man  in 
my  heart,  and  if  I  thus  build  the  edifice  of  grace, 
where  once  the  temple  of  depravity  stood,  then 
I  direct  a  fast  day  towards  the  great  end  of  re- 
ligion. But  what  says  God  of  another  kind  of 
fasting?  "  Is  it  such  a  fast  that  I  have  chosen, 
that  a  man  should  afflict  his  soul  for  a  day?  Is 
it  to  bow  down  the  head  as  a  bulrush,  and  to 
spread  sackcloth  and  ashes  under  him?  Wilt 
thou  call  this  a  fast,  and  an  acceptable  day  to 
the  Lord?  Isa.  Iviii.  5.  And  what  says  God  of 
exterior  devotions  in  general?  "  To  what  pur- 
pose is  the  multitude  of  your  sacrifices  unto  me? 
saith  the  Lord.  I  am  full  of  burnt-offerings  and 
incense.  Your  new  moons  I  cannot  away  with. 
Who  hath  required  this  at  your  hand?  chap.  i. 
1 1 .  The  answer  seems  ready.  Didst  not  thou, 
Lord,  establish  this  worship,  order  an  elegant 
temple  to  be  built,  and  command  the  Jews  to 
go  up  to  Jerusalem?  Sabbaths,  solemn  assem- 
blies, now  moons,  do  they  not  owe  their  origin 
to  thee?  No:  when  they  are  destitute  of  love 
and  obedience,  "  1  hate  new  moons  and  Sab- 
baths, and  solemn  assemblies  1  cannot  away 
with."  In  like  manner,  of  all  devotions  of 
every  kind,  when  they  are  not  attended  with 
uniform  moral  obedience,  we  say,  and  in  par- 
ticular of  the  Lord's  Supper  we  say,  "  I  am 
weary"  of  your  preparations,  "  I  am  full"  of 
momentary  devotions,  and  your  pretended  holy 
resolutions  "I  cannot  away  with."  "Ô 
Ephraim,  what  shall  I  do  unto  thee?  O  Judah, 
what  shall  I  do  unto  thee?  for  your  goodness  is 
as  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew  it 
goeth  away." 

6.  'J'raiisient  devotions  must  render  promises 
of  grace  to  you  dmUilful,  even  supposing  you 
should  ever,  after  a  thousand  revolutions  of 
transient  piety,  bo  in  posHcssion  of  true  and  real 
religion.    What  think  you  of  this  question?    A 


man  who  has  spent  his  life  in  sin  is  taken  ex- 
tremely ill.     His  illness,  a  review  of  his  life, 
and  a  fear  of  death,  rouse  his  conscience.     He 
sends  for  a  minister,  he  opens  to  him  all  his 
heart,  ho  confesses  his  sins,  he  weeps,  he  groans, 
he  protests  ten  thousand  times  that  he  hates  his 
past  life,  and  that  he  is  determined  to  reform. 
He  persuades  himself,  and  all  about  him,  that 
he  is  really  converted.     The  minister  promises 
him  peace,  and  displays  before  him  all  the  com- 
fortable declarations,  which  it  has  pleased  God 
to  bestow  in  the  gospel.    The  sick  man  recovers 
his  health,  returns  to  the  world,  forgets  all  his 
designs  of  conversion  and  repentance,  and  pur- 
sues his  former  course  of  intrigue,  and  passion, 
and  arrogance.     He  falls  sick  a  second  time, 
sends  a  second  time  for  his  minister,  and  again 
he  opens  his  heart,  accuses  himself,  sheds  floods 
of  tears,  and  once  more  vows  amendment  and 
conversion.     The  minister  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple as  before  encourages  him  to  hope  again. 
He  recovers  again,  and  perjures  himself  again, 
as  he  did  the  first  time.     A  third  time  his  ill- 
ness returns,  and  he  takes  the  same  steps,  and 
would  embrace  the  same  promises,  if  they  could 
be  addressed  to  him.     Now  we  ask,  how  a 
minister  ought  to  conduct  himself  to  such  a 
man?     What  think  you  of  this  question?     You 
know  our  commission,  it  is  to  preach  peace  to 
such  as  return  to  God  with  sincerity  and  good 
faith.     The  marks  of  sincerity  and  good  faith 
are  good  works,  and  where  circumstances  ren- 
der good  works  impossible,  protestations  and 
promises  are  to  be  admitted  as  evidences  of  sin- 
cerity and  good  faith.     These  evidences  have 
been  deceitful   in  the  man  we  speak  of.     His 
transition  from  promising  to  violating  was  as 
quick   as  that  from   violating   to   promising. 
Have  we  any  right  to  suppose  the  penitent 
knows  his  heart  better  this  third  time  than  he 
did  the  first  and  second?     How  should  we  be 
able  to  determine  his  state,  how  can  we  ad- 
dress to  liini  any  other  than  doubtful  promises, 
since  God,  in  some  sort,  adopts  such  senti- 
ments in  the  text?     "  O  Ephraim,  what  shall  I 
do  unto  thee?     O  Judah,  what  shall  I  do  unto 
thee?  for  your  goodness  is  as  a  morning  cloud 
that  goeth  away." 

7.  Consider  finally,  the  imprudence  of  a  man 
who  divides  his  life  in  this  manner  into  periods 
of  devotion  and  periods  of  sin.  It  seems  at 
first  to  be  the  height  of  wisdom  to  find  the  un- 
heard-of art  of  uniting  the  reward  of  virtue, 
with  the  pleasure  of  vice.  On  the  one  side, 
by  devoting  only  a  fow  moments  to  religion  he 
spares  himself  the  pains  which  they  experience 
who  make  conscience  of  giving  themselves  en- 
tirely up  to  it:  and  by  suspending  only  for  a 
little  while  the  exercise  of  his  passions,  he  en- 
joys the  pleasure  of  hoping  fully  to  gratify 
them.  On  the  other  side,  he  quiets  the  storms 
of  divine  justice  that  threaten  his  rebellion, 
and  thus  obtains  by  devotions  of  a  moment  a 
protection,  which  others  devote  a  whole  life  to 
acquire.  Let  us  undeceive  ourselves.  A  heart 
divided  in  this  manner  cannot  bo  happy.  The 
chief  cause  of  the  difficulties  we  meet  with  in 
tlie  way  of  salvation  is  owing  to  our  partial 
walking,  and  to  the  lluctu.ation  of  the  soul  be- 
tween religion  and  the  world.  The  world  com- 
bats religion,  religion  combats  the  world.  The 
divided  heart  is  the  field  of  battle  where  this 


Ser.  LXIII.] 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


89 


violent  combat  is  fought.  To  desire  to  enjoy  the  I  which  nature  and  art  seemed  to  have  rendered 


pleasures  of  both  virtue  and  sin  is  to  enjoy  nei 
Iher,  and  to  partaito  of  the  inconveniences  of 
botii.  To  be  at  ;i  jjuiiil,  to  lake  a  part,  and  to 
take  the  wise  part,  is  the  .«ource  of  true  peace 
and  solid  felicity. 

Besides,  tliis  state  of  suspension  which  God 
assumes  in  the  te.vt  is  violent,  and  cannot  last 
lonj»'.  Like  motives  of  jiiUience  do  not  concur 
at  all  times:  witness  the  kingdom  of  .Uidah 
mentioned  in  the  text,  wliich  was  at  length 
given  up  to  llie  fury  of  the  Chaldeans;  witness 
tiiis  Epiiraim,  I  mean  the  kingdom  of  the  ten 
tribes,  concerning  whose  destiny  tiie  projjhet 
seems  in  the  text  to  waver;  however,  at  Icngtli 
God  determined  tlieir  dispersion,  and  the  tribes 
were  confomided  witii  those  idolatrous  and 
wicked  people,  whose  immorality  and  idolatry 
they  had  too  oxactl}'  copied.  All  the  help  of 
histor}',  and  all  tiio  penetration  of  historians 
are  necessary  to  discover  any  trace  of  these 
people:  if  indeed  tlie  penetration  of  historians 
and  travellers  have  discovered  any  thing  about 
them. 

But  why  go  back  to  remote  periods  of  the 
world  to  prove  a  truth  which  our  own  eyes 
now  behold  in  abundance  of  bloody  demonstra- 
tions? If  there  ever  were  a  j'ear  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  if  tliere  has  ever  been 


impregnable.  They  will  describe  both  armies 
animated  with  a  fury  unknown  l>efore,  disput- 
ing in  carnage  and  blood  with  efforts  unparal- 
leled both  for  the  greatness  of  the  slaughter, 
and  the  glory  of  the  victory.  They  will  re- 
present the  most  fruitful  kingdom  of  Europe 
under  all  the  misery  of  scarcity,  in  this  more 
cruel  than  famine,  it  iriHicts  a  more  slow  and 
lingering  dcatli.  They  will  speak  of  the  ia- 
bcjurers  howling  f  )r  bread  in  the  public  roads; 
and  will  tell  of  "  a  sudden  ferocity  ne.\t  to 
madness  possessing  nmltiiudes,  men  seizing 
pnl)lic  convoys,  snatching  the  bread  from  one 
another's  hands,  decency,  fidelity,  and  religion 
being  dead."* 

So  many  victims  sacrificed  to  divine  ven- 
geance, my  bretiiren,  so  many  plagues  wasting 
Kurope,  so  many  shocks  of  the  earth,  above 
all,  so  great  a  share  as  our  crimes  had  in  kind- 
ling the  anger  of  God,  should  seem  to  shake 
the  foundations  of  this  state,  and  to  convulse 
and  kill  the  greatest  part  of  this  auditory. 
Yet  this  state  still  subsists,  thanks  to  thine  in- 
finite mercy  my  God,  the  state  yet  subsists,  and 
though  afliicled,  distressed,  and  weary  with  a 
long  and  cruel  war,  it  subsists  as  rich  and  as 
splendid  as  any  country  in  the  world.  These 
hearers  too,  yet  subsist,  thanks  to  thy  mercy 


a  year  proper  to  prove  these  terrible  truths,  it    niy  God,  oi"-  eyes  behold  them,  and  by  a  kind 


is  that  whicli  lately  came  to  an  end.  Tl 
dreadful  events  that  distinguisjied  it,  and  of 
which  we  were  if  not  the  victims,  at  least  the 
witnesses,  are  too  recent  and  too  well  known, 
to  need  description.  This  year  will  be  propos- 
ed to  the  most  distant  posterity  as  one  of  the 
most  alarming  periods  of  divine  vengeance. 
Future  preachers  will  quote  it  as  St.  Jude  for- 
merly did  the  subversion  of  Sodom,  and  the 
universal  deluge.  Tiicy  will  tell  your  posterity, 
that  in  the  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  nine  the  patience  of  God,  weary  with  Eu- 
rope, enveloped  in  one  general  sentence  friend 
and  foe,  almost  the  wliole  of  that  beautiful  part 
of  the  world.  They  will  say  that  all  the 
scourges  of  heaven  in  concert  were  let  loose 
to  destroy  guilty  nations.  They  will  lead  their 
auditors  over  the  vast  kingdoms  of  tlie  north, 
and  show  them  the  Borysthenes  stained  with 
blood,  contagion  flying  rapidly  as  on  the  wings 
of  the  winds,  from  city  to  city,  from  province 
to  province,  from  kingdom  to  kingdom,  ravag- 
ing in  one  week  so  many  thousand  jiersons,  in 
the  next  so  many  thousand  more.  They  will 
tell  them  of  llie  kingdoms  wliich  were  claimed 
l)y  two  princes,  and  by  lively  images  of  the 
cruel  barbarities  practised  there,  they  will  ren- 
der it  doubtful  whether  it  were  a  desire  of  con- 
quering or  depopulating  these  kingdoms  that 
directed  the  arms  of  tiiese  rivals.  They  will 
represent  that  tlieatre  of  blood  in  Flanders,* 
and  describe  in  glowing  colours  troops  on  both 
sides  animated  witli  equal  fury,  some  to  defend 
posts  which  seemed  to  need  no  defence  but 
themselves,    others    to    force    intrcnchments 

*  Our  author  refers  to  the  battle  of  Malplaquet,  fouglit 
Se|ileiiibcr  the  llth,  1709,  brlween  th«  Kmioh  army  con- 
sisting; of  one  UuiKlrt'cl  and  twvnty  thousand  ineu  cont- 
inandfd  by  Marshal  Villars,  and  the  tonfedcralc  army 
cousistiiig  of  nearly  an  equal  number  under  the  command 
of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  The  couftdeiatt  army  ob- 
tained the  victory  at  the  price  of  twenty  thousand  of  their 
best  troo|>s. 

Vol.  II.— 12 


of  miracle  they  have  been  preserved  to  the  be- 
ginning of  another  year.  Preserved  did  I  say.' 
They  have  been  crowned.  And  how  does  this 
year  begin,  this  year  which  we  never  expected 
to  see,  after  a  year  distinguished  by  the  three 
great  evils,  pestilence,  famine,  and  war,  how 
does  it  begin  with  us?  It  begins  with  the 
smiles  of  heaven,  with  a  participation  of  what 
is  most  august  in  religion,  with  the  descent  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  into  our  hearts,  with  the  re- 
newing of  our  covenant  with  God,  and,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  say  so,  it  begins  with  an  ac- 
knowledgment on  God's  part,  that  his  love 
will  not  allow  of  our  destruction,  how  much 
soever  we  deserve  to  be  destroyed.  "  O 
E|)hraim,  how  shall  I  give  thee  up?  O  Israel, 
how  shall  I  deliver  thee  up?  How  shall  I 
make  thee  as  Admah?  how  shall  I  set  thee  as 
Zeboim?  Mine  heart  is  turned  within  me,  ray 
repentings  are  kindled  together."  Ah!  why 
must  a  joy  so  pure  be  mixed  with  a  just  fear 
that  you  will  abuse  his  goodness?  Why,  across 
such  a  multitude  of  benefits  must  we  be  con- 
strained to  look  at  vengeance  behind?  O  re- 
public! nourished  by  heaven,  "  upon  which 
tlie  eyes  of  the  Lord  thy  God  are  always  fixed, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  year  even  unto  the 
end  of  the  year,"  Deut.  xi.  12;  why  must  we 
be  driven  to-day  to  utter  unpleasant  omens, 
along  with  the  most  affectionate  benedictiona' 
And  you  believers  who  hear  us,  why,  now  that 
we  wish  you  a  happy  new  year,  must  we  be 
obliged  to  foretell  an  unhappy  one? 

For  what  security  have  we  that  this  year 
will  be  more  holy  than  the  last'  have  we  any 
certainty  that  this  commimion  will  be  more 
effectual  than  others?  What  security  have  we 
that  the  resolutions  of  this  day  will  have  more 
influence  over  our  lives  than  all  before?  Can 
we  be  stirc  tliat  the  devotion  of  tliis  day  will 


*  Flechier's  pastoral  letter. 


90 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


[Ser.  Lxni. 


not  be  "  as  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early 
dew  that  eroctli  away.'"  And  consequently 
.what  security  have  we  that  this  will  not  be  the 
last  year  of  this  republic,  the  last  coniinunion, 
the  last  invitation  of  mercy  that  will  ever  be 
given  to  all  this  assembly? 

Ah,  my  brethren,  my  dear  brethren,  behold 
the  God  who  hcwttli  ns  liy  his  prophrts,  behold 
him  who  has  slain  men  hti  Ike  vnrds  of  his 
inoitlh,  behold  him,  who  in  the  [ircseni-c  of  his 
unjrels  waitinw  in  this  assembly,  behold  him 
once  more  sayinir  to  you,  "()  i;]iliruim,  what 
shall  1  do  unto  thee?  "  O  .ludah,  what  shall  1 
do  unto  thee?  for  your  goodness  is  as  the  morn- 
ing cloud,  that  goeth  away!" 

There  are  two  great  motives  among  many 
others,  which  chiefly  urge  your  conversion  to- 
day: your  receiving  the  Lord's  Supper  this 
morning,  and  the  uncertainty  of  living  all  this 
year. 

This  morning  you  received  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, and  with  it  peace  of  conscience,  inward 
consolation,  ineffable  pleasure,  "joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory,"  if  indeed  you  did  feel 
this,  and  if  these  are  not  in  regard  to  you 
sounds  without  meaning.  What!  shall  four 
days,  shall  four  days  cfiace  all  these  im])res- 
sions?  What!  shall  a  worldly  society,  vvill  a 
sensual  temptation,  can  a  ])rofane  raillery  bring 
you  to  violate  all  your  resolutions,  and  to  bo 
guilty  of  perjury  towards  God-  Do  not  fall 
into  the  ])uerility  mentioned  a  little  while  ago, 
do  not  think  the  great  truths  you  have  felt  to- 
day will  cease  to  be,  because  you  cease  to  think 
of  them.  Jesus  died  for  you,  Jesus  gave  him- 
self for  you,  Jesus  demands  your  heart,  Jesus 
promises  you  an  eternity  of  happiness;  this  is 
true  to-day,  this  will  be  true  to-morrow  and 
all  next  week,  during  all  your  temptations  and 
pleasures;  and  what,  pray,  can  the  world  offer 
you  in  lieu  of  the  heaven  that  came  into  your 
conscience?  what  to  supply  the  place  of  that 
Redeemer,  who  this  morning  gave  himself  to 
you  in  a  manner  so  affectionate? 

To  this  first  motive  add  the  other,  the  vanity 
of  life,  a  vanity  described  by  the  renewing  of 
the  year.  I  am  aware  how  feeble  this  motive 
is  to  many  of  us.  The  past  insures  us  for  the 
future,  and  because  we  have  never  died,  it 
seems  to  us  as  if  we  never  should  die. 

My  brethren,  you  compel  us  to-day  to  set 
before  you  the  most  mournful  images,  which 
can  possibly  strike  your  eyes.  You  oblige  us 
to  open  wounds  beginning  to  heal,  and  to  an- 
ticipate the  sorrows  of  the  present  year;  but 
what  can  be  done?  If  we  cannot  detach  men  from 
the  world,  we  must  tear  them  away  by  force. 

Did  we  deceive  you  last  year  when  we  told 
you,  that  many  who  were  present  in  this  place 
on  new  year's  day,  would  not  live  through  tlie 
year?  Has  not  the  event  fully  verified  the 
sad  [irediction?  Answer  me,  ye  disconsolate 
widows,  who  saw  your  husbands,  objects  of  the 
purest  and  tcnderest  love,  expire  in  your  arms. 
Answer  me,  ye  children  in  mourning,  who  fol- 
lowed your  parents  to  the  grave.  How  many 
afflicted  Jacobs  are  weeping  for  the  loss  of  a 
mother?  How  many  Davids  are  saying  in  the 
bitterness  of  their  heart,  "O  my  son  Absalom, 
O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son.  Would  God  1 
liad  died  for  thee!"  I  low  many  "  Benonis,  sons 
of  sorrow,"  born  at  the  "  departing  of  the  soul" 


of  their  parents?  How  many  Marthas  and 
Marys,  bedewing  the  grave  of  a  brother  with 
their  tears,  a  brother  dead  four  days,  and  by 
this  time  infectious?  How  many  plaintive 
voices  are  heard  in  Rama?  How  many  Ra- 
chels weeping  and  refusing  to  be  comforted, 
because  their  "  children  are  not'" 

Having  considered  the  last  year,  turn  your 
attention  to  this,  which  we  arc  now  beginning. 
If,  instead  of  such  vague  discourses  as  we  address 
to  you,  God  should  this  moment  give  us  light 
into  futurity,  a  sight  of  his  book  of  decrees,  a 
foreknowledge  of  the  destiny  of  all  our  hearers, 
and  impel  us  to  inform  each  of  you  how  this 
new  revolution  would  interest  you,  what  cries 
would  be  heard  in  this  auditory!  There  you 
would  sec  that  haughty  man,  fiill-blown  with 
vanity,  confounded  in  the  same  dust  with  the 
meanest  of  mankind.  Here  you  Would  see 
this  voluptuous  woman  who  refuses  nothing  to 
her  senses,  lying  on  a  sick-bed,  expiring  in 
agony  between  the  pain  of  a  mortal  malady 
and  the  just  fear  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  an 
angry  God.  Yonder  you  would  behold  that 
officer  now  crowned  with  laurels,  and  about  to 
reap  a  new  harvest  of  glory  in  the  next  cam- 
paign, covered  with  tragical  dust,  weltering  in 
ins  own  blood,  and  finding  a  grave  where  his 
imagination  appointed  victory  to  meet  him.  In 
all  parts  of  this  auditory,  on  the  right  hand,  on 
tiie  left,  before,  behind,  by  your  side,  in  your 
own  ])ew,  I  should  show  you  carcas.ses,  and 
pro])ably  lie  who  hears  us  with  the  most  indif- 
ference, and  who  secretly  despises  such  as 
tremble  at  our  preaching,  would  himself  serve 
to  prove  the  truth  we  are  delivering,  and  occupy 
the  first  jilace  in  this  fatal  list. 

My  brethren.  Providence  has  not  honoured 
us  with  any  new  revelations,  we  have  not  a 
spirit  of  prophecy:  but  you  have  eyes,  you  have 
a  memory,  you  have  reason,  and  j'ou  are  cer- 
tain death  will  sacrifice  many  of  you  in  the 
course  of  this  year.  On  whom  will  the  tem- 
pest fall?  WJio  will  first  verify  our  predictions? 
You  cannot  tell;  and  on  this  ground  you  will 
brave  death,  on  this  you  build  castles  of  vanity, 
which  attach  you  to  the  world. 

My  brethren,  establish  your  tranquillity  and 
happiness  on  foundations  more  firm  and  solid. 
If  you  be  atTccted  with  the  motives  set  before 
you  this  day,  and  now  resolve  to  labour  in  the 
work  of  your  salvation,  only  you  fear  the  weak- 
ness of  your  resolutions,  we  will  give  you  one 
more  lesson  easy  and  practicable,  tliat  is,  that 
every  day  of  this  year  you  retire  one  quarter 
of  an  hour  and  tliiiik  of  death.  There  put  on 
in  tiiought  your  shroud,  lie  down  in  your  coffin, 
light  your  funeral  tapers.  There,  observe  your 
family  weeping,  your  |)hysiciaii  aghast,  your 
long  and  melancholy  train.  There  consider 
your  friends,  your  cliildren,  your  titles,  your 
treasures  removed  for  over.  There  strike  your 
imagination  with  the  salutary  ideas  of  books 
opened,  thrones  prepared,  actions  weighed  in 
just  balances.  There  lose  yourself  in  the  dark 
economy  of  a  future  stato. 

Having  heard  our  exhortations,  receive  our 
benedictions.  F'irst,  I  turn  myself  toward  the 
walls  of  that  palace,  where  laws  of  Cfjuity,  tho 
glory  and  felicity  of  these  provinces,  are  made; 
where  the  importiint  questions  which  influence 
religion  and  tho  state,  and  shake  all  Europe, 


Seii.  LXIIL] 


TRANSIENT  DEVOTIONS. 


91 


are  agitated.  Ye  protectors  of  the  church,  our 
masters  and  sovereifrns,  may  God  confirm  the 
power  that  you  possess  with  so  much  glory! 
May  God  continue  in  your  hands  the  reins  of 
this  repuhhc  whicli  you  liold  witii  so  much 
moderation  and  wisdom!  God  grant  you  may 
first  share  tiie  prosperity  and  glory  which  you 
diffuse  among  all  this  ))eo[)le!  Under  your  ad- 
ministration God  grant  religion  may  Hourish, 
justice  and  peace  How  over  the  whole  world, 
the  Ik'lgic  name  he  respected,  and  the  nation 
victorious,  and  after  you  have  heen  elevated  to 
the  pinnacle  of  terrestrial  grandeur,  may  God 
elevate  you  to  everlasting  glory! 

I  turn  myself  also  to  you,  illustrious  per- 
sonages, who  represent  in  these  provinces  the 
chief  heads  of  the  Christian  world,  and  who  in 
a  manner  exliibit  in  this  assembly  princes, 
electors,  republics,  and  monarchs,  may  God 
open  his  richest  treasures  in  favour  of  those 
sacred  jiersons  who  arc  gods  upon  earth,  and 
whose  august  characters  you  bear  to  enable 
them  to  support  sovereign  power  with  dig- 
nity! God  grant  they  may  always  have  such 
ministers  as  you,  who  understand  how  to  make 
supreme  auUiorily  both  respected  and  feared! 
God  grant  a  conlcticracy  formed  for  tlio  secu- 
rity of  all  nations  and  people  may  be  continued! 
And  that  my  wishes  may  be  more  worthy  of 
the  majesty  of  this  place,  and  the  holiness  of 
my  ministry,  1  pray  God  to  unite  you  not  only 
by  the  same  temporal  interest  but  by  the  same 
religion;  may  you  have  the  same  God  for  your 
Father,  the  same  .lesus  for  your  Redeemer,  tiie 
same  spirit  for  your  guide,  the  same  glory  for 
your  hope!  I  own  at  the  sight  of  these  lords 
of  tiie  universe,  to  whom  I  have  the  honour  to 
address  myself,  1  feel  my  insignificance,  and  I 
had  suppressed  all  these  wislies  in  my  heart, 
had  I  not  known  that  I  speak  the  sense  of  all 
this  assembly,  the  benedictions  of  all  the 
churcii,  and  the  congratulations  of  the  state. 

You  also  we  bless,  Lévites  holy  to  the  Lord, 
ambass.adors  of  tlie  King  of  kings,  ministers  of 
the  new  covenant,  who  have  written  on  your 
foreheads  "  holiness  to  the  Lord,"  and  on  your 
breasts  "  tlie  names  of  the  children  of  Israel;" 
and  you,  elders  and  deacons  of  this  church, 
who  are  as  it  were  a.ssociated  with  us  in  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  may  God  animate  you 
with  the  zeal  of  his  house!  God  grant  you 
may  always  take  for  your  model  the  "  chief 
Shepherd  aiul  I'isliop  of  our  souls!"  God  grant 
after  you  have  "  preaclied  to  others,  you  may 
not  be  cast  away!"  May  you  "turn  many  to 
righteousness,"  and  afterward  "  shine  as  the 
stars  for  ever  and  ever!" 

Receive  our  benediction,  fatliers  and  mothers 
of  families,  happy  to  see  yourselves  born  again 
in  tlic  persons  of  your  children,  happier  still  to 
bring  those  into  the  "  assembly  of  the  first- 
born," whom  you  have  brought  into  this  valley 
of  trouble!  God  grant  your  houses  may  be 
sanctuaries,  and  your  children  offerings  to  the 
"  Father  of  spirits,"  the  "  God  of  the  spirits 
of  all  flesh!" 

Accept  our  good  wishes,  officers  and  soldiers, 
you,  who  after  so  many  battles  are  going  to 
war  again,  you,  who  after  escaping  so  many 
dangers  are  entering  on  a  new  march  of  perils: 
may  the  God  of  battles  fight  incessantly  for 
you!      May   victory  constantly  follow    your 


steps!  While  you  subdue  your  enemies  may 
you  experience  this  maxim  of  the  Wise  Man, 
"  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  is  better  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city." 

Young  people,  receive  our  blessing:  may  you 
ever  bo  preserved  from  the  contagion  of  the 
world  you  are  entering!  M;iy  you  devote  the 
inestimable  days  you  enjoy  to  your  salvation! 
Now  may  you  "  remember  your  Creator  in  the 
days  of  your  youth!" 

Receive  our  good  wishes,  old  people,  who 
have  already  one  foot  in  the  grave,  let  us 
rather  say,  who  have  already  "  your  heart  in 
heaven  where  your  treiisure  is:"  May  you  find 
your  "  inward  man  renewed  day  by  day,  as 
your  outward  man  perisheth!"  May  you  feel 
your  soul  strengthened  ixs  your  bodies  decay, 
and  when  your  house  of  clay  falls  may  the 
gates  of  heaven  open  to  you! 

Desolate  coimtries,  to  you  also  we  extend 
our  good  wishes  and  prayers.  You  have  been 
many  years  the  uiilia|)|iy  theatre  of  the  most 
bloody  war  that  ever  was.  May  the  "sword 
of  the  Lord  drunk  with  blood,"  retire  into  its 
"  scabbard,  rest  and  be  still!"  May  the  destroy- 
ing angel  who  ravages  your  fields,  cvsisc  to 
execute  his  commission!  May  your  "  swords 
be  beaten  into  ploughshares,  and  3'our  speare 
into  pruning-hooks,"  and  may  tlie  dew  of 
heaven  succeed  the  sliow(;r  of  blood  that  for  so 
many  years  has  been  falling  upon  you. 

Are  our  benedictions  exhausted.'  Alas!  on 
this  joyful  day  can  we  forget  our  griefs?  Ye 
happy  inhabitants  of  these  jirovinces,  so  often 
troubled  with  a  recital  of  our  afflictions,  we 
rejoice  in  your  pro-^jjorily,  will  you  refuse 
to  compassionate  our  misfortunes?  And  you, 
"  firebrands  plucked  out  of  the  burning,"  sad 
and  venerable  ruins  of  our  unhappy  churches, 
my  dear  brethren,  whom  the  misfortunes  of  the 
times  have  cast  on  this  shore,  can  we  forget  the 
miserable  remnants  of  ourselves?  O  ye  groan- 
ing captives,  ye  weeping  priests,  ye  sighing 
virgins,  ye  festivals  profaned,  ye  ways  of  Zion 
mourning,  ye  untrodden  paths,  ye  sad  com- 
plaints, move,  O  move  all  tliis  assembly.  "  O 
Jerusalem,  if  I  forget  thee,  let  my  right  hand 
forget  her  cunning.  Not  remember  thee!  let 
my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  if  I 
prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my  chief  joy!  O 
Jerusalem,  peace  be  within  thy  walls,  and  pros- 
perity within  thy  palaces.  For  my  brethren 
and  companions'  sake,  I  will  now  say  jieace  be 
within  thee!"  May  God  be  moved,  if  not  with 
the  ardour  of  our  prayers,  yet  with  the  excess 
of  our  afilictions;  if  not  with  our  misfortunes, 
yet  w'ith  the  desolation  of  his  sanctuaries,  if 
not  with  the  bodies  we  carry  all  about  the 
world,  yet  with  the  souls  that  arc  torn  from  us! 

And  thou  dreadful  prince,  whom  I  once 
honoured  as  my  king,  and  whom  I  yet  respect 
as  a  scourge  in  the  hand  of  Almighty  God, 
thou  also  shall  have  a  part  in  my  good  wishes. 
These  provinces  which  thou  threatencst,  but 
W'hich  the  arm  of  the  Lord  protects;  tliis  coun- 
try which  thou  fiUest  with  refugees,  but  fugi- 
tives animated  with  love;  these  walls  whicli 
contain  a  thousand  martyrs  of  thy  making,  but 
whom  religion  renders  victorious,  all  these  yet 
resound  benedictions  in  thy  favour.  God  grant 
the  fatal  bandage  that  hides  the  truth  from 
thine  eyes  may  fall  ofl'!     May  God  forget  the 


92 


THE  DIFFERENT  METHODS 


[Ser.  LXIV. 


rivers  of  blood,  with  wliicli  thou  hast  deluged 
the  earth,  and  wliich  thy  reign  lias  caused  to 
be  slied!  May  God  blot  out  of  liis  book  the 
injuries  wliich  thou  hast  done  us,  and  while  he 
rewards  tiie  sufferers,  may  he  pardon  those 
who  exposed  us  to  suffer!  O  may  God,  who 
has  made  thee  to  us,  and  to  the  whole  church, 
a  minister  of  his  judgments,  make  thee  a  dis- 
penser of  his  favours,  an  administrator  of  his 
mercy! 

I  return  to  you,  my  brethren,  I  include  you 
all  in  my  benedictions.  May  God  pour  out  his 
Holy  Spirit  upon  all  tliis  assembly!  God  grant 
this  year  may  be  to  us  all  an  acceptable  year, 
a  preparation  for  eternity!  "  Drop  down  ye 
heavens  from  above,  let  the  skies  pour  down 
righteousness,  let  the  earth  open,  and  let  them 
bring  forth  salvation." 

It  is  not  enough  to  wish  for  those  blessings, 
they  must  be  procured,  and  we  must  derive 
them  from  the  source.  It  is  not  sufficient  that 
a  frail  man  utters  benedictions  in  your  favour, 
we  must  pray  for  a  ratification  of  tlicin  by  the 
happy  God.  We  must  go  to  tlie  tlirone  of  God 
himself,  wrestle  with  him,  earnestly  beseech 
him  with  prayers  and  tears,  and  "  not  let  him 
go  except  he  bless  us."  Magistrates,  people, 
soldiers,  citizens,  pastors,  flock,  come  let  us 
1)0W  our  knees  before  the  Monarch  of  the 
world:  and  you  birds  of  prey,  devouring  cares, 
worldly  anxieties,  bo  gone,  and  interrupt  not 
our  sacrifice. 


SERMON  LXIV 


THE    DIFFERENT   METHODS   OF 
PREACHERS. 


1  Corinthians  iii.  11 — 15. 
Other  fmtndalion  can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid, 
which  is  Jesus  Christ.  .Aou'  if  any  man  build 
■upon  this  foundation,  gold,  silver,  pi-ecious 
stones;  wood,  hay,  stubble;  ei'ery  mart's  xcork 
shall  be  made  manifest;  for  the  day  shrdl  declare 
it,  because  it  shall  he  revealed  by  fire;  and  the 
fire  shall  try  every  junn's  work  of  what  sort  it 
is.  If  any  jiinit's  icork  abide,  ivhich  he  hath 
built  thereupon,  he  shall  receive  a  reicard.  If 
nny  man''s  work  shall  be  burnt,  he  shall  suffer 
loss;  but  he  himself  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by 
fire. 

Had  rules  of  preaching  sermons  no  con- 
nexion with  those  of  hearing  them,  we  would 
not  have  treated  of  this  text  in  this  plâtre.  Sa- 
tisfied with  meditating  on  it  in  the  study,  we 
would  have  chosen  a  subject  in  which  you 
would  have  lH;en  more  directly  interested.  IJiil 
what  doctrine  i:an  wo  preach  to  you,  which 
doi.'H  not  engage  you  to  some  dispositions,  that 
cannot  be  neglected  without  hazarding  the 
great  salvation,  for  the  sake  of  which  you  as- 
tuimble  in  this  holy  place?  Are  wo  such  ene- 
mies to  trutli,  or  (lo  we  so  ill  understand  it,  as 
to  teach  you  a  doctriiu;  contrary  to  that,  which 
the  Holy  Spirit  has  biid  down  in  Scripture? 
If  so,  you  should  renuirriber  the  saying  of  an 
apostle,  and,  animated  with  a  holy  indignation, 
should  exclaim,  "  Though  you,  or  an  angel 
from  heaven,  preach  any  other  gospel  unto  us 
than  that  which  we  have  received,  let  him  be 


I  accursed!"  Gal.  i.  8,  9.  Do  we  always  keep 
in  sight  while  we  are  working  in  the  building 
of  the  church,  "  the  pattern  showed  to  us  in 
I  the  mount'"  Heb.  viii.  5.  You  ought  to  be 
1  attentive,  diligent,  and  teachable.  Do  we 
make  an  odious  mixture  of  truth  and  error, 
"  Christ  and  Belial,  light  and  darkness?  you 
ought  to  exercise  your  senses  to  discern  good 
from  evil.  It  is  this  inseparable  connexion  of 
your  duty  with  ours,  which  determined  me  to 
explain  the  text.  It  directly  regards  the  vari- 
ous methods  of  tlie  preachers  of  the  gospel: 
but  as  the  terms  are  metaphorical  and  obscure, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  develope  the  meaning  of 
the  apostle  in  the  following  manner. 

thirst,  we  will  examine  what  gave  occasion 
for  tlie  words — next,  we  will  observe  the  design 
of  the  apostle  in  writing  them — in  the  third 
place,  we  will  explain  the  several  figures  made 
use  of — and  lastly,  we  will  apply  the  subject  to 
practice. 

I.  The  occasion  of  the  text  will  appear  by  a 
little  attention  to  the  connexion  in  which  it 
stands.  St.  Paul  had  been  endeavouring  to 
put  an  end  to  the  divisions  of  the  church  at 
Corinth,  and  to  destroy  the  party-spirit  of  the 
Corinthians.  Ought  we  to  be  astonished,  that 
churches  are  so  little  unanimous  now,  when 
we  sec  diversity  often  among  apostles  and  pri- 
mitive Christians?  If  peace,  left  by  Jesus 
Christ  as  an  inheritance  to  his  apostles,  could 
not  be  maintained  in  churches  gathered  by 
these  blessed  men,  where  must  we  look  for  it' 
Perhaps,  division  was  partly  owing  to  the  im- 
prudence of  some  preachers  in  their  primitive 
churches:  but  certainly  their  hearers  had  a 
chief  hand  in  fomenting  them.  The  teachers 
had  ditlerent  gifts,  and  their  hearers  divided 
into  parties  under  their  ministry.  It  is  always 
allowable  to  distinguish  men,  who  have  re- 
ceived great  talents  from  God,  from  such  as 
have  received  abilities  not  so  great;  but  these 
Corinthian  Christians  affected  to  exalt  those  of 
their  ministers,  who  they  thought,  were  men 
of  the  most  eminent  abilities,  to  tlie  depres- 
sion and  discouragement  of  the  rest,  and  under 
pretence  of  paying  homage  to  God  the  giver 
of  these  talents,  lliey  very  indiscreetly  idolized 
the  men  wiio  had  received  them.  IVIoreover, 
they  made  as  many  different  religions,  as  God 
had  given  different  commissions,  and  different 
abilities  to  ministers  to  execute  them.  Each 
jiarty  at  Corinth  chose  out  of  these  pretended 
religions,  that  which  appeared  most  conform- 
able to  its  prejudices.  Tlie  converted  Pagans 
were  for  St.  Paul,  to  whom  the  conversion  of 
the  gentiles  had  been  committed,  and  who  had 
iirought  them  to  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  they  said,  for  our  parts,  "  we  are  of 
Paul."  Such  as  had  a  taste  for  eloquence  wore 
l"or  Apollos,  wiio  was  an  "  eloquent  man,  and 
mighty  in  the  Scriptures,"  and  they  said, 
"  wo  are  of  Apollos."  The  converted  Jews 
were  for  Peter,  who  discovered  a  great  deal  of 
moderation  towards  their  ceremonies,  and  who 
had  even  "  compelled  the  gentiles  to  live  as 
the  Jews  did,"  that  is  to  mix  the  simple  wor- 
ship of  the  New  Testament  with  the  ceremo- 
nial observances  of  the  law,  and  they  said,  as 
for  us,  "  wo  are  of  Ceplias."  And  those  Jews, 
who  obstinately  continued  tlie  ceremony  of 
circumcision,  pretended  that  they  had  no  need 


Ser.  LXIV.] 


OF  PREACHERS. 


93 


of  the  authority  either  of  Paul,  or  of  Apollos, 
or  of  ('ephas,  fi)r  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ, 
who  had  liimscif  been  circumcised,  was  sulti- 
cient  for  them,  and  for  tlieir  parts,  they  were 
"  of  Christ." 

St.  Paul  tells  these  Corinthians,  that,  as 
long  as  they  should  continue  in  this  disposi- 
tion, he  should  consider  them  as  novices  in  the 
Christian  religion,  able  at  most  only  to  imdcr- 
stand  the  first  principles,  not  to  comprehend 
the  whole  desiifn.  He  tells  them,  that  there 
were  in  this  religion  "treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge,"  but  into  which  men  could  never 
enter,  who  mixed  their  passions  with  trutlis 
intended  to  mortify  them;  and  that  this  defect 
in  them  prevented  him  from  attemjiting  to  lay 
before  them  these  riches.  "  I,  brethren,  could 
not  speak  unto  you  as  unto  spiritual,  but  as 
unto  carnal,  even  as  unto  babes  in  Christ.  I 
have  fed  you  with  milk  and  not  with  meat: 
for  hitherto  ye  were  not  able  to  bear  it,  neither 
yet  now  are  ye  able.  For  ye  are  yet  carnal, 
for  whereas  there  is  among  you  envying  and 
strife  and  divisions,  are  ye  not  carnal,  and 
walk  as  men,"  1  Cor.  iii.  1 — 3,  that  is,  as  men 
of  the  world? 

Having  reproved  the  folly,  and  repeated  the 
descriptive  censure,  he  leads  them  to  the  true 
motive  that  should  induce  them  to  avoid  it. 
Although,  as  if  he  had  said,  the  talents  of 
your  ministers  are  not  all  equal,  )'et  they 
all  received  them  from  the  same  source,  that 
is,  from  the  grace  of  God;  and  how  amply  so- 
ever any  of  them  may  be  endowed  with  abili- 
ties, they  can  have  no  success,  except  the  same 
grace  bestows  it.  "  Who  then  is  Paul,  and 
who  is  Apollos,  but  ministers  by  whom  ye  be- 
lieved, as  the  Lord  gave  to  every  man,"  ver. 
5,  that  is,  as  the  blessing  of  God  accompanied 
their  ministry?  "  I  have  planted,  Apollos  wa- 
tered: but  God  gave  the  increase.  "  So  then 
neither  is  he  that  plantetli  any  thing,  neither 
he  that  watereth,  but  God  that  giveth  the  in- 
crease," ver.  8.  A  great  lesson  for  those  to 
whom  God  has  given  gifts  to  preach  the  gos- 
pel! A  fine  example  of  humility,  wliicii  they 
ought  always  to  have  before  their  eyes!  And 
what  were  the  gifts,  with  which  God  enriched 
tiie  first  heralds  of  the  gospel?  What  is  a  lit- 
tle vivacity  of  imagination,  a  little  grace  of  elo- 
cution, a  little  reading,  a  little  justness  of  rea- 
soning? What  are  these  talents  in  comparison 
with  the  gifts  of  men,  who  spoke  several  fo- 
reign languages,  who  understood  all  mysteries, 
who  altered  the  laws  of  nature,  who  were  dis- 
pensers of  the  divine  power,  who  raised  the 
dead,  who  slew  the  wicked  with  tiie  breath  of 
their  lips,  who  struck  dead  at  their  feet  Ana- 
nias and  Sapphira,  and  to  say  more  still,  who 
were  inmiediately  conducted  by  the  spirit  of 
Gotl  in  their  ministry?  Yet  behold  the  man, 
who  was  first  in  this  class  of  extraordinary 
men,  behold  this  chosen  vessel,  behold  the  man 
who  could  say,  "  I  was  not  a  whit  behind  the 
very  chiefest  apostles,"  2  Cor.  xi.  5,  behold 
him,  doing  homage  for  all  his  own  talents,  and 
all  those  of  his  colleagues,  to  that  grace,  from 
which  they  came,  and  which  blessed  the  ad- 
ministration of  them.  "  Who  is  Paul?  Who  is 
Apollos?  He  that  planteth  is  nothing,  he  that 
watereth  is  nothing,  but  God  that  giveth  the 
increase." 


II.  It  was  to  bo  feared  (we  proceed  to  the 

d(sii;n  of  the  text,)  it  was  to  be  feared,  that 
under  |)retence  tliat  all  the  ministers  of  the 
gospel  were  united  in  one  point  of  equality: 
under  pretence  that  none  of  them  were  any 
more  than  servants  of  God,  and  canals  by 
which  he  commimicated  himself  to  the  church; 
I  say  it  was  hazardous,  and  much  to  be  sus- 
pected, whether  teachers  themselves  would  not 
abuse  this  equality  by  applying  what  the  apos- 
tle meant  only  of  the  abilities  of  preachers, 
to  the  very  doctrines  themselves  which  they 
taught. 

If  this  were  doubtful  in  regard  to  the  preach- 
ers, it  was  no  less  so  in  regard  to  the  hearers. 
People  have,  I  think,  a  natural  bias  to  super- 
stition. They  easily  show  that  respect,  which 
is  due  only  to  the  character  of  a  minister  of 
the  living  God,  to  all  that  put  it  on,  even  to 
such  as  use  it  only  for  the  perverting  of  the 
gospel,  yea  to  those  who  endeavour  to  subvert 
It  entirely.  Because  we  ought  not  to  hear  the 
gospel  in  a  spirit  of  cliicanery  and  sophistry,  it 
is  supposed  we  ought  to  lay  aside  a  spirit  of 
di.scernment.  Hence  this  way  of  speaking,  so 
superstitious,  and  at  the  same  time  so  common 
among  us,  that  is,  that  whatever  difference 
there  may  be  in  preachers,  yet  they  all  preach 
the  word  of  God.  Rut  it  is  not  impossible, 
that  from  a  text  which  is  the  word  of  God, 
explications  may  be  given,  which  are  only  the 
word  of  man.  Not  impossible,  did  I  say!  I 
believe  it  seldom,  if  ever  happens,  that  two 
ministers  treat  of  one  subject  without  at  least 
one  of  them  mixing  with  the  word  of  God 
some  expressions  which  are  only  the  word  of 
man.  Why?  Because  the  conformity  of  their 
sentiments  can  never  be  so  perfect,  but  they 
will  differ  on  some  questions.  Now,  of  two 
men,  one  of  whom  takes  the  affirmative  side 
of  a  question,  and  the  other  the  negative,  ono 
of  tliem  nmst  of  necessity,  in  this  respect, 
preacii  the  word  of  God,  and  the  other  the 
word  of  man.  You  should  not,  therefore,  pay 
a  superstitious  attention  to  our  discourses. — 
You  should  not,  under  pretence  that  all  j^our 
ministers  thus  preach  the  word  of  God,  con- 
found the  word  of  God  with  the  word  of  man. 
Whatever  patience  you  may  be  obliged  to  have 
with  our  imperfections,  you  ought  not  equally 
to  esteem  two  discourses,  the  greatest  part  of 
one  of  which  you  call,  and  have  reason  to  call, 
the  word  of  God,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the 
other  the  word  of  man. 

The  design  of  St.  Paul  in  our  text  is  to  rec- 
tify our  judgment  on  this  subject.  For  this 
purpose  he  divides  preachers  into  three  classes. 
The  first  are  such  as  preach  the  word  of  man, 
not  only  different  from  the  word  of  God, 
but  directly  in  opposition  to  it.  The  second 
preach  the  pure  word  of  God  without  human 
mixtures.  The  third  do  indeed  make  the  word 
of  God  the  ground  of  their  preaching,  but 
mix  with  it  the  explications  and  traditions  of 
men.  The  apostle  characterizes  these  three 
kinds  of  preachers,  informs  us  of  their  destina- 
tion, and  what  account  God  will  require  of 
their  ministry. 

1.  "  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than 
that  is  laid."  This  is  directed  against  such  mi- 
nisters as  preach  the  word  of  man  in  direct  op- 
position to  the  word  of  God,  or  tho  doctrine 


94 


THE  DIFFERENT  METHODS 


[Ser.  Lxrv. 


of  Jesus  Christ.  What  will  be  Die  destina- 
tion of  sucl)  ministers?  St.  Paul  tells  us  by 
affirming,  "  no  man  can  preach,  no  man  can 
lay  any  other  foundation  than  that  is  laid." 
No  man  can!  Not  that  this  can  never  hap- 
pen. Alas!  This  has  too  often  happened;  wit- 
ness many  communities,  which  under  the 
Christian  name  subvert  all  the  foundations  of 
the  Cliristian  religion.  Hut  no  man  can  do  so 
without  rendering  himself  guilty  of  the  great- 
est crime,  and  e.xposing  himself  to  the  greatest 
punishment. 

2.  "  If  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation, 
gold,  silver,  precious  stones."  These  are  mi- 
nisters, who  preach  tlie  pure  word  of  God. 
They  not  only  retain  all  the  fundamental  points 
of  the  Christian  religion,  iu  opposition  to  the 
former  who  subvert  them:  hut  they  explain 
these  truths  so  as  to  affirm  notliing  inconsistent 
with  them.  All  the  inferences  they  draw 
from  these  great  principles  naturally  proceed 
from  them,  and  their  whole  doctrine  is  agreea- 
ble to  the  foundation  on  which  it  is  built.  On 
this  account  it  is  compared  to  "gold,  silver, 
and  precious  stones."  What  shall  be  the  des- 
tiny of  these  ministers  in  the  great  day  of 
judgment,  when  their  doctrine  shall  be  exam- 
ined? They  "  shall  receive  a  reward."  They 
shall  share  the  glorious  promises  made  to  faith- 
ful ministers  of  religion. 

3.  "  If  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation, 
wood,  hay,  stubble."  These  are  ministers  who 
really  make  the  word  of  God  the  ground  of 
their  preaching:  but  who  mix  the  word  of 
man  with  it,  and  disfigure  it  with  their  fanci- 
ful sophistry.  When  the  doctrine  of  these  mi- 
nisters shall  be  examined  in  the  great  day  of 
judgment,  what  sliall  their  destiny  be?  "  They 
themselves  shall  be  saved,"  because  they  have 
taught  nothing  directly  contrary  to  the  essen- 
tial truths  of  Christianity:  but  they  shall  have 
no  reward  for  exercising  a  ministry,  in  which 
they  rendered  the  word  of  God  of  less  effect  by 
mixing  with  it  the  traditions  of  men,  and  they 
shall  be  "  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire,"  that  is,  witli 
difficulty,  because  tlieir  preaching  occupied 
the  time  and  attention  of  their  hearers,  in  a 
manner  unworthy  of  the  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

This  is,  my  brethren,  a  general  view  of  the 
design  of  our  text:  but  this  is  not  sufficient  to 
give  an  exact  knowledge  of  it.  In  a  discourse 
intended  to  prevent,  or  to  eradicate  a  certain 
kind  of  su])erstition,  nothing  ought  to  be  pro- 
]>(iscd  that  is  likely  to  cherish  it.  You  should 
not  be  required  to  believe  any  thing  without 
the  most  full  and  convincing  evidence.  Hav- 
ing therefore  shown  you  tiie  general  design 
of  the  text,  we  will  proceed  to  our  tliird  arti- 
cle, and  exjjlain  the  several  metaphors  made 
use  of  in  it. 

III.  Although  all  these  figurative  expres- 
sions are  selected  with  caution,  and  very  bold, 
yet  they  are  not  all  alike  obscure  to  you. 
Which  of  you  is  such  a  novice,  I  do  not  say 
only  in  the  style  of  the  inspired  authors,  as  not 
to  know  the  idea  affixed  to  the  term  founda- 
tion? In  architecture  they  call  those  massy 
stones  laid  in  the  earth,  and  on  which  the 
whole  building  rests,  foundations;  and  thus  in 
moral  things,  particularly  in  sciences,  founda- 


tions signify  some  propositions,  without  which 
all  the  rest  that  make  the  body  cannot  sub- 
sist. 

The  foundaltDn  is  Jesus  Christ.  These  terms 
are  to  be  understood  in  this  place,  as  in  many 
others,  of  the  Christian  religion,  which  is  call- 
ed Jesus  Christ,  not  merely  because  Jesus 
Christ  taught  it  to  the  world,  but  because  his 
history,  that  is,  his  sufferings,  his  death,  and 
his  resurrection,  are  the  principal  subjects. 
In  this  sense,  the  apostle  says,  "  he  determin- 
ed not  to  know  any  thing  among"  the  Corin- 
thians "  save  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified," 
that  is,  the  Christian  religion,  of  which  the 
crucifixion  of  Christ  is  a  principal  article. 

The  other  emblems,  "  wood,  hay,  stubble; 
gold,  silver,  precious  stones,"  seem  evidently 
to  convey  the  ideas  which  we  just  now  affixed 
to  them.  As  St.  Paul  here  represents  the  doc- 
trine of  preachers  under  the  similitude  of  an 
edifice,  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  that  "  wood, 
hay,  and  stubble,"  especially  when  they  are 
opposed  to  "  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones," 
should  mean  doctrines  less  considerable,  either 
because  they  are  uncertain,  or  unimportant. 

For  the  same  reason,  "  gold,  silver,  precious 
stones,"  signify  in  the  edifice  of  the  church,  or 
in  the  system  of  preachers,  such  doctrines  as 
are  excellent,  sublime,  demonstrable.  In  this 
sense  the  propliet  Isaiah,  describing  the  glory 
of  tiie  church  under  the  government  of  the 
Messiah,  says,  "  behold,  I  will  lay  thy  stones 
with  fair  colours,  and  thy  foundations  with 
sapphires.  And  I  will  make  thy  windows  of 
agates,  and  thy  gates  of  carbuncles,  and  all 
thy  borders  of  pleasant  stones,"  chap.  liv.  11, 
lii,  and,  by  way  of  explaining  this  metaphori- 
cal language,  he  adds  in  the  very  next  words, 
"  All  thy  ciiildren  shall  be  taught  of  the  Lord, 
and  great  shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children." 

There  is  a  little  more  difficulty,  at  least 
there  are  many  more  opinions  on  the  meaning 
of  those  words,  "  Every  man's  work  shall  be 
made  manifest,  for  the  day  shall  declare  it,  be- 
cause it  shall  bo  revealed  by  fire,  and  the  fire 
shall  try  every  man's  work,  of  what  sort  it  is." 
Without  detailing,  and  refuting  erroneous  opin- 
ions on  these  words,  let  it  suffice  that  we  point 
out  the  true  sense.  By  the  "  day"  we  under- 
stand the  final  judgment.  This  day  is  called 
in  many  passages  of  Scripture  the  day  "  of  the 
Lord,"  the  "  day,"  or  that  day  by  excellence. 
Thus  the  apostle,  "  Jesus  Christ  shall  confirm 
you  unto  the  end,  that  ye  may  be  blameless  in 
the  day  of  our  Lord,"  chap.  i.  8.  Thus,  also, 
speaking  of  the  temporal  punishment  of  the 
incestuous  person,  he  says,  "  deliver  such  a 
one  unto  Satan,  for  the  destruction  of  the 
tlesli,  that  the  spirit  may  be  saved  in  the  day 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  chap.  v.  5.  So  again,  "I 
know  whom  1  have  believed,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded, that  ho  is  able  to  keej.  thai  which  I 
have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day,"  2 
Tim.  i.  12.  In  that  day  "  every  man's  work 
shall  bo  revealed,"  or  "  made  manifest  by  fire." 
It  is  not  astonishing,  that  fire  should  be  joined 
here  with  the  day  of  judgment.  The  Scrip- 
ture teaches  us  in  more  than  one  place,  that 
the  terrible  day  of  judgment  will  verify  in  the 
most  dreadful  of  all  senses  this  declaration, 
"  God  makoth  winds  his  angels,"  and  "  flam- 


Ser.  LXIV.] 


OF  PREACHERS. 


95 


ing  fire  hia  ministers."*  Hence  tlio  psalmist 
says,  "the  mighty  God,  even  the  Lord  liatii 
spoken,  and  called  the  earlli  from  the  risiiiir 
of  the  sun  unto  the  going  down  thereof.  A 
fire  shall  devour  hcf(jre  him,"  Ps.  1.  1.  Agrce- 
ahly  to  whicii  our  ajjostlc  says,  "  the  Lord 
Jesus,  when  ho  shall  romc  to  lie  glorified  in 
his  saints,  and  to  ho  admired  in  all  them  that 
bcliev(;,  shall  be  revealed  from  heaven  in  flam- 
ing fire,  taking  vengeance  on  them  tiiat  know 
not  God,"  2  Thes.  vii.  10.  8.  Though  all 
these  passages  cast  light  on  the  text,  yet  strict- 
ly speaking,  1  think  the  apostle  presents  the 
fire  of  the  day  of  judgment  here  under  an 
idea  somewhat  ditVurent  from  that  given  in  all 
these  passages,  in  these,  fire  is  represented 
as  punishing  only  the  wicked,  the  righteous  do 
not  feel  the  action  of  it:  but  here  in  the  text 
it  is  described  as  alike  kindled  fijr  the  righte- 
ous and  the  wicked;  at  least  it  is  said  that  the 
works  of  both  sliall  be  "  revealed  by  fire." 
Now  we  should  bo  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
some  subterfuge  to  make  sen.se  of  the  te-\t,  if 
we  understood  the  apostle  speaking  of  the  fire 
of  hell.  How  can  the  works  of  the  righteous 
and  the  wicked  be  equally  manifested  by  the 
fire  of  hell? 

I  think  a  much  more  simple  and  natural  ex- 
position may  be  given  of  the  words  of  the  text. 
The  chief  design  of  a  day  of  judgment  is  to 
examine  the  actions  of  men,  and  to  distinguish 
bad  actions  from  good,  and  good  from  better. 
This  is  an  idea  contained  in  a  thousand  pas- 
sages of  Scripture,  and  it  would  be  useless  to 
prove  it.  Now  the  apostle,  in  order  to  make 
us  understand  that  the  evidence  siiall  be  com- 
plete, represents  it  under  the  similitude  of  the 
most  perfect  and  best  known  trials  among 
men,  of  which  that  of  metal  by  fire  certainly 
excels  in  its  kind.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  sacred 
writers  have  chosen  this  to  explain  the  trials 
which  God  makes  his  children  go  through  in 
this  world.  1  select  only  one  passage  out  of  a 
great  number,  "  That  the  trial  of  your  faith, 
being  much  more  precious  than  of  gold  that 
perisheth,  though  it  be  tried  with  fire,  might 
be  found  unto  praise,  and  honour,  and  glory, 
at  the  ai)pearance  of  Jesus  Cln'ist,"  1  Pet.  i. 
1.  The  trial  of  your  faith  is  a  remarkable 
word  in  tho  original.  Good  Greek  authors 
use  it  for  the  trial  of  metals  in  the  fire.  Iso- 
crates  uses  the  term  exactly  as  St.  Peter  does, 


*  Psalm  civ.  4.  The  English  version  is — IVho  makcth 
his  angels  spirits:  his  miuistcrs  a  Jliiming  fire.  Mr. 
Sanrin  uu<Ier5lan(l9  the  words,  as  above,  expressive  of 
the  divine  inlluence  over  tlic  power  of  nalnrc,  and  reads, 
who  mitketh  vinds  midfirct,  literally,  hisin^trnmculs,  or 
figuratively,  liis  incssniicis.  This  is  perfectly  agreeable 
— first,  to  the  oriiiiniU  terms — secondly,  to  tlie  context, 
who  v>alketh  upon  the  wings  of  the  tvind — who  maketh 
clotuls  his  chariot — who  sitteth  on  xratcrs — whose  canopy 
is  the  heavens.  Whose  clothing  is  Us,ht.  This  whole 
psalm,  the  most  sublime  of  all  essays  on  nature,  makes 
all  parts  of  the  universe  particles  of  one  body  of  majestic 
si/.c,  and  evact  symmetry,  of  which  the  Psalmist's  God, 
JEHOVAH,  is  the  soul;  the  earth,  the  deep,  mountains, 
valleys,  bcitsti,  fowls,  grass,  herbs,  nil,  wine,  man,  and 
all  his  movements,  the  skill  that  builds,  and  sails  a  ship, 
and  the  seitsations  that  make  Icviathiin  play,  all  these, 
all  the  i)art9  and  powers  of  nature,  are  formed,  animated, 
aud  directed  by  God.  Thirdly,  this  sense  is  agreeable 
to  other  passages  of  Scripture — the  Lord  rained  ^irc, 
Gen.  xix.  :24.  The  Lord  caused  the  sea  to  go  back  by  a 
strong  cost  vind,  Exod.  xiv.  21.  Fire  and  hail,  snow 
and  vapour,  stormy  wind,  fulfilling  his  word,  Ps.  cxiviii. 


wc  try  f;ol(l  in  the  fire.  I  return  to  the  text, 
which  1  left  only  for  the  sake  of  explaining  it 
the  better.  St.  Paul  hero  represents  the  day  of 
judgment  as  a  time  of  the  most  exact  and 
severe  trials  of  tho  actions  of  men,  and  parti- 
cularly of  tho  doctrines  of  ministers  of  the 
ljoH|)el.  For  this  ])urpose  he  compares  the 
trial  witli  that  of  metals  by  fire.  Says  he, 
the  dillereiit  doctrines  of  ministers  of  tlio  gos- 
])el  shall  then  be  put  into  a  crucible  that  they 
may  be  fully  known,  as  by  the  same  ]jroce8S 
pure  gold  is  separated  and  distinguished  from 
ioreign  matter  mixed  with  it:  "  Every  man's 
work  shall  be  made  manifest,  for  the  day," 
that  is,  the  day  of  judgment,  "  shall  declare 
it,"  because  it  siiall  be  "  revealed  by  fire," 
that  is,  tho  day  of  judgment  like  "  fire,"  ap- 
plied to  metals  "  shall  try  every  man's  work, 
of  what  sort  it  is." 

The  apostle,  pursuing  the  same  metaphor, 
adds,  "  If^  any  man's  work  abide,  which  he 
hatli  built  tlieieu[)on,  he  shall  receive  a  re- 
ward," that  is,  if  the  doctrine  which  a  mirds- 
ter  of  tl.e  gospel  shall  have  taught,  and  built 
on  "  the  foundation  that  is  laid,"  if  this  doc- 
trine shill  abide  the  trial  of  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, as  gold  abides  that  of  fire,  the  preacher 
shall  receive  a  reward:  but  if  his  doctrine 
Imrn,  i:'  it  will  not  abide  this  trial,  if  it  be  like 
the  foreign  matter  mixed  with  gold,  and  which 
burns  when  gold  is  tried  with  fire,  then  the 
preacher  will  lose  the  honour  and  pleasure  of 
ills  work,  he  will  have  no  reward  for  his  minis- 
terial services:  but  as  to  himself,  perhaps  he 
may  be  saved,  however,  he  will  be  saved  with 
difficulty,  "  he  will  be  saved  as  by  fire."  Why 
may  he  be  saved.'  Because  his  doctrine  did 
not  fo  to  the  subversion  of  the  principal  truths 
of  tiie  Christian  religion.  Why  will  he  be 
saved  with  difficulty?  Because  his  doctrine 
was  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  Christi- 
anity. Why  is  the  salvation  of  such  a  man 
uncertain?  Because  it  is  possible,  that  the 
motives  which  induced  him  to  preach  such  a 
doctrine,  and  to  prefer  it  before  what  St.  Paul 
compares  to  "gold  and  precious  stones,"  n)ay 
have  been  so  detestable  as  to  deserve  all  the 
punishments  denounced  against  such  as  shall 
have  subverted  the  foundation  of  the  gospel. 
If  you  doubt  whether  the  sense  we  have  given 
to  this  met;i|)horical  expression,  "  saved  as  by 
fire,"  be  just,  we  beg  leave  to  observe  in  three 
words  that  it  is  well  founded. 

First,  the  sense  given  is  not  forced,  for  no- 
thing is  more  natural  than  to  express  a  great 
difficulty  by  similitudes  taken  from  difficult 
things,  thus  we  say  a  man  escaped  from  ship- 
wreck, to  describe  a  man  who  has  escaped 
from  any  oreat  danger:  and  the  same  idea  is 
expressed  with  equal  aptness,  when  we  say  a 
man  freed  from  some  great  danger  has  es- 
caped the  fire. 

Secondly,  the  metaphor  is  not  only  just  but 
beautiful  in  itself,  but  it  is  common  in  profane 
writers.  In  this  manner  ^Emilius  Paulus,  to 
show  that  he  had  hardly  escaped  the  rage  of 
the  populace  during  his  first  consulship,  says, 
that  he  escaped  a  popular  conflagraliov ,  in 
which  he  was  half  burnt.  In  like  manner  Ci- 
cero, speaking  of  the  miseries  of  life,  says,  that 
it  would  be  better  not  to  be  bom,  but  that  if 
we  have  the  niislorliuie  to  be  born,  llie  most 


06 


THE  DIFFERENT  METHODS 


[Ser.  LXIV. 


advantageous  Uiing  is  to  die  soon,  and  to  flco 
from  the  hands  of  fortune  as  from  a  conjlagra- 
Hon. 

Thirdly,  tho  metaphor  in  the  text  is  common 
in  otiicr  i)art8  of  Scripture,  as  in  Amos,  "I 
have  overliirown  some  of  you,  as  God  over- 
threw Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  ye  were  as  a 
firebrand  phicked  out  of  tlie  burning,"  chap, 
iv.  n.  Tlie  apostle  Jude  adopts  the  same 
figure,  and  says,  "save  others  witli  fear,  pull- 
ing them  out  of  the  fire,"  ver.  13. 

By  establishing  the  true  sense  of  tlie  text  on 
solid  grounds,  1  think  we  have  suiliciently  re- 
futed all  erroneous  opinions  concerning  it,  and 
yet  there  are  two,  which  for  different  reasons 
1  cannot  help  mentioning. 

The  first  is  the  opinion  of  those,  who  think 
the  apostle  meant  by  the  fire  in  the  text  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem.  This  opinion  has 
an  air  of  probability,  yet  I  do  not  tliink  it 
certain.  The  time  of  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem is  often  called  in  Scripture,  as  well  as 
the  time  of  tho  final  judgment,  that  day,  the 
day  of  the  Lord,  and  the  calamities  of  the  day 
are  represented  under  the  idea  of  fire,  and 
literally  speaking,  firo  did  make  sad  rayages  in 
Jerusalem  and  in  the  temple.  However  there 
is  a  deal  of  perplexity  in  the  paraphrase  given 
of  the  text  by  such  as  are  of  this  opinion.  This 
is  it,  exactly  as  we  have  transcribed  it  from  a 
celebrated  scholar.  "  The  fire  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  will  prove  whether  the  doc- 
trines of  your  teachers  be  those  of  tiie  gospel, 
or  whether  they  be  foreign  notions.  He  whose 
doctrine  will  abide  this  trial,  shall  receive  a 
reward:  but  he  whose  doctrine  will  not  abide 
it,  will  lose  the  fruitof  his  ministerial  labours." 

We  said  this  opinion  was  probable:  but  we 
cannot  say  so  with  the  least  shadow  of  truth  of 
the  opinion  of  some  of  the  church  of  Rome, 
who  pretended  that  the  apostle  speaks  here  of 
the  fire  of  purgatory. 

Because,  suppose  purgatory  were  taught  in 
other  passages  of  Scripture,  which  we  are  very 
far  from  granting,  great  violence  must  be  done 
to  this  text  to  find  the  doctrine  here;  for  on 
supposition  the  apostle  speaks  of  purgatory, 
what  do  these  words  mean?  Tlie  fire  of  pur- 
gatory siiall  try  the  doctrines  of  the  ministers 
of  the  gospel,  so  that  substantial  doctrines,  and 
vain  doctrines  shall  be  alike  tried  by  this  fire! 

Because  St.  I'aul  says  here  of  this  fire  tilings 
directly  opposite  to  tho  idea  which  tiio  church 
of  Koine  forms  of  purgatory.  They  exempt 
saints  of  tho  first  order,  and  in  this  class  St. 
Paul  certainly  holds  one  of  tho  most  eminent 
places:  but  our  apostle,  far  from  thinking  him- 
self safe  from  such  a  "trial  by  fire"  as  he  speaks 
of  in  tile  text,  expressly  says,  "every  man's 
work"  shall  be  tried,  that  is  the  work  of  minis- 
ters wiio  shall  have  built  on  tlie  foundation 
"gold,  silver,  precious  stones,"  shall  be  tried, 
as  well  as  tliat  of  other  ministers,  who  shall 
have  built  on  the  foundation  "  wood  and 
Btubble." 

But  the  chief  reason  for  our  rejecting  the 
comment  uf  the  cluircli  of  Home  is  the  nature 
of  the  (ioclrine  itself,  in  proof  of  which  tiiey 
bring  the  text.  A  iiolorodox  doctrine,  which 
enervates  the  great  sacrifice  tjiat  Jesus  Christ 
offered  on  tlie  cross  for  tlie  siii.s  of  mankind;  a 
doctrine  directly  opposite  to  a  great  number  ol' 


passages  of  Scripture,  which  tell  us  that  "  there 
is  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are  in  Clirist 
Jesus,  that  "  he  that  believeth  is  passed  from 
death  unto  life,"  that  when  "  tiie  righteous 
dieth,  he  is  taken  from  the  evil  to  come,  and  shall 
enter  into  pe.ace,"  lloin.  viii.  1;  John  v.  -1; 
and  Isa.  Ivii.  1,  -.  A  doctrine  founded  on  a 
thousand  visions  and  fabulous  tales,  more  fit 
for  times  of  pagan  darkness  than  days  of  evan- 
gelical light;  a  sordid  doctrine  that  evidently 
owes  its  being  to  tliat  base  interest,  which  it 
nourishes  with  jjrofusion,  luxury,  and  extrava- 
gance; a  barbarous  doctrine,  whicii  produces 
in  a  dying  man  a  dreadful  expectation  of  pass- 
ing from  the  agonies  of  dying  to  whole  ages  of 
greater  agony  in  flames  of  fire. 

IV.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  examine  with 
what  eye  we  ought  to  consider  tiie  three  sorts 
of  preachers,  of  which  the  apostle  speaks,  and 
so  apply  the  subject  to  practice.  Tiie  first  are 
such  as  "  lay  another  foundation"  besides  that 
which  is  laid.  The  second  are  those  who 
"  build  on  the  foundation,"  laid  by  the  master- 
builder,  "  wood,  hay,  and  stubble."  The  third 
are  such  as  build  on  the  same  fomidation  "  gold, 
silver,  and  precious  stones." 

Thanks  be  to  God  we  have  no  other  con- 
cern with  the  first  of  these  articles  except  that 
whicli  compassion  obliges  us  to  take  for  the 
wickedness  of  such  teachers,  and  the  blindness 
of  their  hearers! 

What  a  strange  condition  is  that  of  a  man 
who  employs  his  study,  his  reading,  his  medi- 
tation, his  labours,  his  public  and  private  dis- 
courses to  subvert  the  foundations  of  that  edi- 
fice which  Jesus  Christ  came  to  erect  among 
mankind,  and  wliich  he  has  cemented  with  his 
blood!  What  a  doctrine  is  that  of  a  man,  who 
presumes  to  call  liimself  a  guide  of  conscience, 
a  pastor  of  a  flock,  an  interpreter  of  Scripture, 
and  who  gives  only  false  directions,  who  poi- 
sons tho  souls  committed  to  his  care,  and  dark- 
ens and  tortures  the  word  of  God!  Jesus 
Christ,  to  confound  the  glosses  of  the  false 
teachers  of  his  time,  said,  "  ye  have  heard  tiiat 
it  was  said  by  them  of  old  time"  so  and  so: 
"  but  1  say  unto  you"  otherwise.  The  teachers, 
of  whom  I  speak,  use  another  language,  and 
tliey  say,  you  have  heard  that  it  was  said  by 
Jesus  Christ,  so  and  so:  but  I  say  to  you 
otherwise.  You  have  heard  that  it  was  said 
by  Jesus  Christ,  "  Search  the  Scriptures:"  but 
1  say  to  you,  that  tiio  Scriptures  are  danger- 
ous, and  that  only  one  order  of  men  ougiit  to 
see  them.  You  have  heard,  that  it  has  been 
said  in  the  inspired  writings,  "  prove  all  things:" 
but  I  say  unto  you,  it  is  not  for  you  to  examine, 
but  to  submit.  You  iiavo  heard  that  it  hiis 
been  said  by  Jesus  Christ,  tiiat  "  the  rulers 
over  the  Gentiles  exercise  lordship  over  them, 
but  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you."  But  I  say 
unto  you,  that  the  pontiff'  has  a  right  to  domi- 
neer not  only  over  tiio  Gentiles,  but  even  over 
those  who  rule  them.  You  have  heard  tiiat  it 
has  been  said,  "  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die 
in  tlic  Lord,"  that  the  soul  of  Lazarus  "  was 
carried  by  the  angels  into  Ai)rahaiirs  bosom:" 
but  I,  I  say  unto  you,  that  llie  dead  pa.ss  from 
the  miseries  of  this  life,  only  into  incompara- 
bly greater  miseries  in  the  flames  of  purgatory. 

If  this  disposition  bo  deplorable  considered 
in  itself,  it  becomes  much  more  80  by  attending 


Ser.  LXIV.] 


OF  PREACHERS. 


97 


to  the  motives  lliat  produce  it.  Someliiiies  it 
is  ignorance,  wliich  makes  people  sincerely 
crawl  in  the  thickest  darkness,  amidst  the  finest 
opportunities  of  oi)taining  liyht.  Sonietinies  it 
is  obstinacy,  which  impels  people  to  maintain, 
for  ever  to  maintain,  what  they  have  once  af- 
firmed. Sometimes  it  is  pride,  that  will  not 
acknowledge  a  mistake.  Sonieliincs  it  is  in- 
terest, which  fixes  them  in  a  conmmnion  that 
opens  a  path  to  riches  and  grandeurs,  benefices 
and  mitres,  an  archiépiscopal  throne  and  a  tri- 
ple crown.  Always,  it  is  negligence  of  the 
great  salvation,  which  deserves  all  our  pains, 
vigilance  the  most  exact,  and  sacrifices  the 
most  difficult. 

My  brethren,  let  us  acknowledge  tJie  favour 
conferred  on  us  by  Providence  in  delivering  us 
from  these  errors.  Let  us  bless  the  happy 
days  of  the  Reformaticjn,  in  which  our  socie- 
ties were  built  on  the  foundation  laid  by  Jesus 
Christ  and  his  apostles.  Let  us  never  disho- 
nour it  by  an  irregular  life.  Let  us  never  re- 
gret the  sacrifices  we  have  made  to  it.  Let  us 
be  always  ready  to  make  more.  We  liavc  al- 
ready, many  of  us,  given  up  our  establishments, 
our  fortunes,  and  our  country;  let  us  give  up 
our  passions,  and,  if  it  be  requisite,  our  lives. 
Let  us  endeavour  to  perpetuate  and  extend  it, 
let  us  defend  it  by  our  prayers,  as  well  as  by 
our  labour  and  vigilance.  Let  us  pray  to  God 
for  this  poor  people,  from  whose  eyes  a  fiital 
bandage  hides  the  light  of  truth.  Let  us  pray 
for  such  of  our  brethren  as  know  it,  but  have 
not  courage  to  profess  it.  Let  us  pray  for  those 
poor  children,  who  seem  as  if  they  must  re- 
ceive it  with  their  first  nourishment,  because 
their  parents  know  it:  but  who  do  not  yet 
know  it,  and  who  perhaps,  alas!  will  never 
know  it.  If  our  incessant  prayers  for  them 
continue  to  be  rejected;  if  our  future  efforts  to 
move  in  their  favour  the  compassion  of  a  mer- 
ciful God,  be  without  success,  as  our  former 
efforts  have  been;  if  our  future  tears,  like  our 
former  sorrows,  be  in  vain,  yet  we  will  exclaim, 
"O  Lord,  liow  long!  O  wall  of  tiie  daughter 
of  Zion,  let  tears  run  down  like  a  river  day  and 
night,  give  thyself  no  rest,  let  not  the  apple  of 
thine  eye  cease!  O  ye  that  make  mention  of 
the  Lord,  keep  not  silence,  and  give  him  no 
rest,  till  he  establish,  and  till  he  make  Jeru- 
salem a  praise  in  the  eartli,"  Rev.  vi.  10; 
Lament,  ii.  18;  and  Isa.  Ivii.  6,  7. 

It  is  not  the  limit  prescribed  to  this  sermon, 
that  forbids  my  detailing  the  two  remaining 
articles:  but  a  reason  of  another  kind.  I  fear, 
should  1  characterize  the  two  kinds  of  doc- 
trines, which  are  !)olh  built  on  the  foundation, 
but  whicli,  however,  are  not  of  ecpial  value,  I 
myself  should  lay  another  foundation.  The 
religion  of  Jesus  C'hrist  is  founded  on  love. 
Jesus  Christ  is  love.  The  virtue  which  he 
most  of  all  reconmiended  to  his  disciples,  is 
love. 

I  appeal  here  to  those,  who  have  some  ideas 
of  remnants  of  divisions  yet  amongst  us.  How 
can  I,  without  rekindling  a  fire  hid  under  em- 
bers, and  which  we  have  done  all  in  our  power 
entirely  to  extinguish,  show  the  vanity  of  dif- 
ferent classes  of  divers  doctrines  of  tcood,  hay, 
and  stiibble.f 

In  a   first   class,  it  would   be  necessary  to 
expose  a  ministry  spent  in  questions  of  mere 
Vol..  Ii.— L3 


curiosity,  and  to  contrast  it  with  that  which  is 
cm])loycd  only  to  give  that  clear  knowledge, 
and  full  demonstration  of  the  great  truths  of 
religion  of  which  they  are  capable. 

in  the  second  class,  it  would  bo  necessary  to 
contrast  discourses  of  simple  sj)eculation  tend- 
ing only  to  exercise  the  mind  with  such  prac- 
tical discourses  as  tend  to  sanctify  the  heart, 
to  regulate  the  life,  to  render  the  child  obedi- 
ent to  his  jiarent,  and  the  parent  kind  and  equi- 
t.il.le  to  his  child,  the  subject  submissive  to  the 
laws  of  his  rulers,  and  tlic  ruler  attentive  to 
the  hait])iness  of  the  subjects,  the  rich  charita- 
ble, and  the  jioor  humble  and  patient. 

In  the  third  clasa,  I  should  be  obliged  to  con- 
sider some  i)roductions  of  disordered  minds, 
fancies  attributed  to  the  Spirit  of  God,  charg- 
ing religion  with  the  tinsel  of  the  marvellous, 
more  |)roper  to  divert  children  than  to  satisfy 
incpiisitive  minds,  and  to  contrast  these  with 
the  productions  of  men  who  never  set  a  .step 
without  the  light  of  the  gospel  in  their  hands 
and  infallible  truth  for  their  guide. 

In  a  fourth  class,  we  ought  to  contrast  those 
miserable  sophisms  which  pretend  to  support 
truth  with  the  arms  of  error,  and  include  with- 
out scruple  whatever  favours,  and  whatever 
seems  to  favour  the  cause  to  be  maintained, 
with  clear  ideas,  close  reasonings,  and  natural 
conclusions,  such  as  a  preacher  brings,  who 
knows  how  to  weigh  in  a  just  balance  trulli 
and  falsehood,  probability  and  proof,  conjecture 
and  demonstration. 

In  the  fifth  class,  I  should  have  to  lay  open 
the  superficial  ideas,  sometimes  low  and  vul- 
gar, of  a  man  without  either  elevation  or  pene- 
tration, and  to  contrast  them  with  the  dis- 
courses of  such  happy  geniuses  as  soar  up  to 
God,  even  to  the  inaccessible  God. 

All  these  dissimilitudes  it  would  be  my  duty 
to  show:  but  I  will  not  proceed,  and  I  make  a 
sacrifice  to  charity  of  all  the  details  which  the 
subject  would  bear.  I  will  not  even  describe 
the  miseries  which  are  denounced  against  such 
as  build  hay  and  stubble  on  the  foundation  of 
the  gospel,  nor  the  unhappiness  of  those,  who 
shall  be  found  at  last  to  have  preferred  such 
doctrines  before  the  "  gold,  silver,  and  precious 
stones,"  of  which  the  apostle  speaks.  Let 
them  weigh  this  expression  of  the  holy  man, 
"he  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire."  Let 
the  first  think  of  the  account  they  must  give 
of  their  ministry,  and  the  second  of  the  use 
they  have  made  of  their  time,  and  of  their 
superstitious  docility. 

I  would  rather  offer  you  objecta  more  at- 
tracting, and  urge  motives  more  tender.  We 
told  you  at  the  beginning  of  this  discourse  that 
your  duties.  Christian  people,  have  a  close  con- 
nexion with  ours,  and  we  may  add,  our  desti- 
nation is  closely  connected  with  yours. 

What  will  be  the  destiny  of  such  as  shall 
have  built  on  the  foundations  of  Clu-istianity 
"  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones?"  What  will 
be  the  destiny  of  those,  who  shall  have  exer- 
cised such  a  ministry?  What  will  be  the  des- 
tiny of  such  as  have  incorporated  themselves 
with  it'  Ah!  my  brethren,  I  place  my  hap- 
pines.s  and  glory  in  not  being  able  fully  to  an- 
swer this  question.  I  congratulate  myself  for 
not  being  able  to  find  images  lively  enough  to 
represent  the  pomp,  with  which  I  hope,  my 


98 


THE  DEEP  TIIlNGri  OF  GOD. 


[Ser.  LXV. 


most  beluved  auditors,  you  will  one  day  be 
adorned.  Yet  I  love  to  conteiii[ilate  tliat  great 
day,  in  which  the  work  of  iailiiful  ministers, 
and  faithful  Christians  will  be  made  manifest 
by  fire.  1  love  to  fill  my  mind  with  the  day, 
in  which  God  will  "  come  to  be  fflorificd  in  his 
saints,  and  admired  in  all  them  that  believe," 
2  Thess.  i.  10;  when  he  shall  call  to  the  hea- 
vens "  from  above,  and  to  the  earth,  that  he 
may  judge  his  ])eoi>le,"  Ps.  I.  4,  saying,  "  (ia- 
ther  my  saints  together  unto  me,  those  that 
have  made  a  covenant  with  me  b}'  sacrifice," 
ver.  6.  I  love  to  satiate  my  soul  witli  ideas 
of  the  redeemed  of  every  kindred,  and  tongue, 
and  people,  and  nation,  in  company  witii  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of 
thousands  of  angels,  llev.  v.  f).  11.  At  the 
head  of  this  august  body  1  see  three  chiefs. 

The  first  is  "  Jesus  Christ,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  our  faith,"  lieb.  xii.  2.  I  sec  this 
divine  leader  presenting  himself  before  his  father 
with  his  wounds,  his  cross,  and  his  blood,  and 
saying,  "  feather,  I  liave  finished  the  work 
wliich  tiiou  gavest  nie  to  do.  And  now,  O 
Father,  glorify  thou  me  with  thine  own  self, 
witii  the  glory  which  I  had  with  tliee  before  the 
world  was,"  John  xvii.  4,  5.  Having  glorified 
the  head,  glorify  the  members,  save  my  peo[)le. 
Then  will  the  eternal  Father  crown  such  just 
and  holy  petitions  with  success.  Then  will  be 
accomplished  in  regard  to  Jesus  Christ  this 
niogniticent  promise,  "  Ask  of  me  and  1  shall 
give  thee  the  heathen  for  thine  inheritance,  and 
the  uttermost  ])arts  of  the  earth  for  tliy  posses- 
sion," Ps.  ii.  8.  Such  as  oppose  thine  empire 
govern  "  with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  dash  them  in 
pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel:"  but  enter  thou 
unto  thy  kingdom  with  thy  subjects,  thy  saints, 
thy  well  beloved,  and  share  with  them  thy 
glorious  inheritance. 

The  second  leaders  are  prophets,  evangelists, 
and  apostles,  ap()earing  before  God  with  tlie 
conquests  they  made,  the  nations  they  convert- 
ed, the  persecutions  they  endured  for  tlie  love 
of  God  and  his  gospel.  Then  will  the  promises 
made  to  these  holy  men  be  acconiplislied,  "  they 
that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  siiine  as 
the  stars  for  ever  and  ever.  When  the  Son  of 
man  shall  sit  in  the  throne  of  his  glory,  yc 
also  shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones,  judging  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel,"  Daniel  xii.  4;  Matt. 
xix.  28. 

The  third  will  be  such  ministers  as  h.ive 
been  "followers  of  tlie  apostles  even  as  they 
also  were  of  Clirist."  I  think  1  see  these 
ministers  humbled  for  their  faults,  convinced 
of  their  frailly,  im[)loring  the  divine  mercy  for 
the  blemisiies  of  their  ministry:  l)ut  yet  witii 
that  humble  confidence  which  the  compassion 
of  God  allows,  and  saying,  behold  us,  the  doc:- 
trine  we  have  preached,  the  minds  wo  have 
informed,  the  wanderers  we  have  reclaimed, 
and  with  the  hearts  vviiich  we  have  had  tiie 
honour  of  animating  with  thy  love.  What,  in 
tliat  great  day,  what  will  bo  your  destiny. 
Christian  people?  Will  yours  be  the  hearts 
which  we  shall  have  animated  with  divine  love, 
or  those  from  whicli  wo  never  could  b.inisii  the 
love  of  tlie  world?  Shall  you  be  among  tlie 
backsliders  whom  we  siiall  have  reclaimed,  or 
among  such  as  shall  have  persisted  in  sin? 
Shall  yours  be  the  minds  wc  have  enlightened, 


or  among  those  who  shall  have  Iain  in  darkness 
and  ignorance? 

Ah!  My  brethren,  the  first  of  our  wishes,  the 
most  aflectionate  of  our  jirayers,  our  secret 
meditations,  our  public  discourses,  whatever 
we  undertake,  whatever  we  are,  we  consecrate 
to  prepare  you  for  that  great  day.  "  What  is 
our  hope,  or  joy,  or  crown  of  rejoicing?  Are 
not  even  ye  in  tlie  presence  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  at  his  coming?  Ye  are  our  glory  and 
our  joy,"  1  Thess.  ii.  19,  20.  To  God  be 
honour  and  praise  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXV. 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


IIOMANS    xi.    3. 
0  tlic  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and 
knowledge  of  God!     How  unsearchable  are  his 
judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out! 

One  of  the  principal  causes  of  the  depravity 
of  mankind  is,  that  they  form  mean  ideas  of 
God.  The  idea  of  the  God  we  adore,  and  the 
notion  of  the  morality  we  ought  to  practise, 
are  two  things  closely  connected  together.  If 
we  consider  God  as  a  being  elevated,  great  and 
sublime,  our  morality  will  be  great,  sublime, 
and  elevated  too.  If,  on  the  contrary,  we  con- 
sider God  as  a  being  whose  designs  are  narrow, 
whose  power  is  limited,  and  whose  plans  are 
partial,  we  shall  practise  a  morality  adapted  to 
such  an  imaginary  God. 

My  bretlnen,  there  are  two  very  différent 
ways  of  forming  this  sublime  idea,  which  has 
such  an  iiitluence  over  religion  and  morality. 

'I'he  magnificence  of  God  may  be  imderslood 
by  what  is  known  of  God,  by  the  things  that 
are  made,  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  sun,  by  the 
extent  of  the  firmanieiil,  and  by  all  the  various 
creatures  which  we  behold;  and  judging  of  the 
workman  by  the  work,  we  shall  exclaim  in 
sight  of  so  many  wonderful  works,  "  O  Lord, 
how  excellent  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth! 
Tiiou  hast  set  thy  glory  above  the  heavens. 
When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy 
fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast 
ordained,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful 
of  him?  And  the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitcst 
him?"  Rom.  i.  19,  20;  Ps.  Iviii.  I,  itc. 

But  there  is  another  way  to  know  the  mag- 
nificence of  God,  a  way  less  accessible  indeed, 
but  more  noble,  and  even  more  plain  to  the 
man,  the  eyes  of  whose  understanding  are  en- 
lightened, Kph.  i.  IS,  that  is,  to  judge  of  God, 
not  by  the  things  that  are  seen,  but  by  the 
things  that  are  not  seen,  not  by  what  we  know, 
but  by  what  we  do  not  know.  In  tliis  sublime 
way  the  soul  loses  itself  in  a  depth  of  divine 
inagnificcnce,  like  the  seraphims,  covers  its  face 
before  the  majesty  of  God,  and  exclaims  with 
the  prophet,  "verily  thou  art  a  God  that  hidest 
thyself,"  Isa.  xlv.  15.  "The  secret  things 
belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God,  but  those  tliing.s 
which  arc  revealed  belong  to  us,  and  to  our 
children  for  ever,"  Dcut.  xxix.  29.  It  is  on 
this  otecuro  side,  that  wo  propose  to  show  you 
the  Deity  to-day. 

Darkness  will  serve  us  for  light,  and  the  iin- 


Ser.  LXV.] 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


99 


penetrable  depll»  of  liis  decrees  will  fill  our 
minds  with  sound  and  practical  knowledge. 
"  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom 
and  knowledge  of  God!  How  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding 
out!" 

In  order  to  enter  into  the  mind  of  the  apostle, 
it  is  necessary  to  observe  the  subject  to  which 
he  aj)plics  the  text,  and  never  to  lose  sight  of 
the  design  of  this  whole  e|)istle.  The  apostle 
chiefly  proposes  to  counteract  a  scandalous 
schism  in  the  church  of  Rome.  This  church 
was  composed  of  two  sorts  of  Christians,  some 
converts  from  Judaism,  others  from  Paganism. 
The  Jews  considered  the  Gentiles  with  con- 
tempt, as  they  always  had  been  accustomed  to 
consider  foreigner.  For  their  parts,  they 
thought  they  had  a  natural  right  to  all  the 
l»encfits  of  the  Messiah,  because,  being  born 
Jews,  they  were  the  legitimate  heirs  of  Abra- 
ham, to  whom  the  promise  was  made,  whereas 
tlic  Gentiles  partook  of  these  benefits  only  by 
mere  favour.  St.  Paul  attacks  this  prejudice, 
proves  that  Jews  and  Gentiles,  being  all  alike 
tinder  .«n,  had  all  an  equal  need  of  a  covenant 
«f  grace-,  tliat  both  derived  their  calling  from 
the  mercy  of  God;  that  no  one  was  rejected 
as  a  Gentile,  or  admitted  as  a  Jew:  but  that 
they  only  should  share  the  salvation  published 
by  the  Messiah  who  had  been  elected  in  the 
eternal  decrees  of  God.  The  Jews  could  not 
relish  such  hmnbling  ideas,  nor  accommodate 
this  doctrine  to  the  prerogatives  of  their  nation; 
and  much  less  could  they  admit  the  system  of 
the  apostle  on  predestination.  St.  Paul  em- 
p4oys  the  chapter  from  which  we  have  taken 
our  text,  and  the  two  chapters  before  to  remove 
their  diflieulties.  He  turns  himself,  so  to 
speak,  on  every  side  to  elucidate  the  subject. 
He  reasons,  proves,  argues;  but  after  he  has 
heaped  proofs  upon  proofs,  reasonings  upon 
rea.sonings,  and  solutions  upon  solutions,  he 
acknowledges,  in  the  words  of  the  text,  that 
he  glories  in  falling  beneath  his  subject.  In 
some  sense  he  classes  himself  with  the  most 
ignorant  of  his  readers,  allows  that  he  has  not 
received  a  sulHciont  measure  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  to  enable  him  to  fathom  such  depths,  and 
he  exclaims  on  the  brink  of  this  great  profound, 
"  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom 
and  knowledge  of  God!  How  unsearchable 
arc  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding 
out!"  The  apostle  therefore  wrote  these  words 
of  the  "deep  things  of  God"  ciiietly  with  a 
view  to  the  conduct  of  God  with  regard  to  such 
as  ho  appoints  to  glory,  and  such  as  he  leaves 
in  perdition.  I  grant,  were  this  text  to  be 
accurately  discussed,  it  ougiit  to  be  considered 
in  regard  to  these  events,  and  these  doctrines; 
but  nothing  hinders  our  examining  it  in  a  more 
extensive  view.  The  apostle  lays  down  a 
general  maxim,  and  takes  occasion  from  a 
particular  subject  to  establisli  a  universal  truth, 
that  is,  tiiat  such  is  the  magnificence  of  God 
that  it  aljsorbs  all  our  thought,  and  that  to 
attempt  to  reduce  the  conduct  of  God  to  a  level 
with  our  frail  reason  is  to  be  guilty  of  extreme 
rashness.  | 

This  is  what  we  will  -endeavour  to  prove.  | 
Come,  Christians,  follow  us,  and  learn  to  know  I 
yourselves,   and    to   feel   your   insignificance. 
We  are  going,  by  showing  you  the  Deity  in 


four  different  views,  to  open  to  you  four  great 
deeps,  and  to  give  you  four  rea.sons  for  exclaim- 
ing with  the  apostle,  "O  the  depth!" 

The  four  ways  in  which  God  reveals  himself 
to  man,  are  four  manners  to  display  his  perfec- 
tions, and  at  the  same  time  they  arc  four  abysses 
in  which  our  im]terfect  reason  is  lost.  These 
ways  are — first,  an  idea  of  the  Deity — secondly, 
of  nature — thirdly,  of  Providence — and  fourth- 
ly, of  revelation;  four  ways,  if  I  may  venture 
to  speak  thus,  all  shining  with  light,  and  yet 
all  covered  with  adorable  darkness. 

1.  The  first  mirror  in  which  we  contemplate 
God,  and  at  the  same  time  the  first  abyss  in 
which  our  imperfect  reason  is  lost,  is  the  idea 
we  have  of  ilie  (/irin«  perfextions.  This  is  a 
path  leading  to  God,  a  mirror  of  the  Deity. 
To  prove  this,  it  is  not  necessary  to  examine 
how  we  came  by  this  idea,  whether  it  be  natural 
or  accjuircd,  wiicther  we  derive  it  from  our 
parents  or  our  tutors,  whether  the  Creator  has 
immediately  engraven  it  on  the  mind,  or  whe- 
ther we  ourselves  have  formed  it  by  a  chain  of 
principles  and  consequences;  a  question  much 
agitated  in  the  schools,  sometimes  settled,  and 
sometimes  controverted,  and  on  which  both 
sides  afiirm  many  clear  and  substantial,  though 
opposite  propositions.  Of  myself,  1  am  always 
fully  persuaded  that  I  have  an  idea  of  a  Being 
supremely  excellent,  and  one  of  whose  perfec- 
tions I  am  not  able  to  omit  without  destroying 
the  essence  of  the  Supreme  Being  to  whom  it 
belongs.  I  know  too  that  theie  must  be  some- 
where without  me  an  object  answering  to  my 
idea;  for  as  I  think,  and  as  1  know  I  am  not 
the  author  of  the  faculty  that  thinks  within  me, 
I  am  obliged  to  conclude  that  a  foreign  cause 
has  produced  it.  If  this  foreign  cause  is  a  being 
that  derives  its  existence  from  another  foreign 
cause,  I  am  necessarily  obliged  to  proceed  from 
one  step  to  another,  and  to  go  on  till  I  find  a 
self-existent  being,  and  this  self-existeut  being 
is  the  infinite  Being.  I  have  then  an  idea  of 
the  infinite  Being.  This  idea  is  not  a  phantom 
of  my  creation,  it  is  the  portrait  of  an  original 
that  exists  independently  of  my  reflections. 
This  is  the  first  way  to  the  Creator^  this  is  the 
first  mirror  of  his  perfections. 

O  how  long,  how  infinitely  extended  is  this 
way!  How  impossible  for  the  mind  to  pervade 
a  distance  so  immense!  How  obscure  is  this 
mirror!  How  is  my  soul  dismayed  when  I  at- 
tempt to  sail  in  this  inuneasurable  ocean! 
An  infamous  man,  who  lived  in  the  beginning 
of  the  last  century,  a  man  who  conceived  the 
most  abominable  design  that  ever  was,  who 
formed  with  eleven  persons  of  his  own  cast  a 
college  of  infidelity,  from  whence  ho  might 
send  his  emissaries  into  all  the  world  to  rase 
out  of  every  mind  the  opinion  of  the  existence 
of  a  God,  this  man  took  a  very  singular  me- 
thod to  prove  that  there  was  no  God,  that  was 
to  state  the  general  idea  of  God.  He  thought, 
to  define  was  to  destroy  it,  and  that  to  say  what 
God  is,  was  the  best  way  to  disprove  his  exist- 
ence. "  God,"  said  that  impious  man,  "  God 
is  a  being  who  exists  through  infinite  ages,  and 
yet  is  not  capable  of  past  or  to  come,  he  fills 
all  without  being  in  any  place,  be  is  fixed  with- 
out situation,  he  pervades  all  without  motion, 
he  is  good  without  quality,  great  without  quan- 
tity, universal  without  parts,  moving  all  tilings 


100 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


[Ser.  LXV. 


without  being  moved  himself,  his  will  consti- 
tutes his  power,  and  his  power  is  confounded 
with  his  will,  without  all,  within  all,  beyond 
all,  before  all,  and  after  all."* 

But  though  it  bo  absurd  to  argue  against  the 
existence  of  God  from  the  eminence  of  his 
perfections,  yet  it  is  tiie  wisdom  of  man  to  de- 
rive from  tiiis  subject  inferences  immbling  to 
his  proud  and  infatuated  reason.  We  detest 
the  design  of  the  writer  just  now  mentioned, 
but  we  approve  of  a  part  of  the  definition 
wliich  our  atheist  gives  of  God.  Far  from 
|)retending  that  such  a  definition  degrades  the 
object  of  our  worsliip  from  iiis  supren)e  rank 
in  the  scale  of  beings,  it  inclines  us  to  pay  him 
the  most  prolbund  lioinage  of  which  creatures 
are  capable,  and  to  lay  down  our  feeble  reason 
before  his  infinite  excellence. 

Yes,  "  God  is  a  being  who  exists  through  in- 
finite ages;  and  yet  is  not  capable  of  past  or  to 
come."  The  vast  number  of  ages  which  the 
rapidity  of  time  has  carried  away,  are  as  pre- 
sent to  him  as  this  very  indivisible  moment, 
and  the  most  distant  futurity  does  not  conceal 
any  remote  event  from  his  eyes.  He  unites  in 
one  single  instant,  the  past,  tlie  present,  and 
all  periods  to  como.  Ile  is  by  excellence,  "  I 
anj  that  I  am.''  He  loses  iiolliing  by  ages 
spent,  he  acquires  nothing  by  succession.  "ïes, 
"  God  fills  all  without  being  in  any  place. 
Ascend  up  into  heaven,  he  is  there.  Make 
your  bed  in  hell,  behold  he  is  there.  Take  the 
wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  utter- 
most part  of  the  sea,  even  tiiere  sliall  his  hand 
lead  you.  Say,  surely  the  darkness  sliall  cover 
me,  even  the  night  shall  be  light  about  you," 
Ps.  cxxxix.  S,  &c.  Yet  he  has  no  place,  and 
the  quality  by  which  our  bodies  are  enclosed  in 
these  walls,  and  adjusted  with  the  particles  of 
air  that  surround  us,  cannot  agree  with  his  spi- 
rituality. "  God  pervades  all  without  mo- 
tion." The  quickness  of  lightning,  which  in 
an  instant  pas.ses  from  east  to  west,  cannot 
equal  the  rapidity  witli  which  his  intelli- 
gence ascends  to  the  highest  heavens,  descends 
to  the  deepest  abysses,  and  visits  in  a  moment 
all  parts  of  the  universe.  Yet  he  is  immovea- 
ble, and  does  not  quit  one  phice  to  be  present 
in  another,  but  abides  with  his  disciples  on 
earth,  while  he  is  in  heaven,  in  the  centre  of 
felicity  and  glory.  "  His  will  constitutes  his 
power,  and  his  power  does  not  differ  from  his 

*  The  book  from  wliicli  our  aullior  i|Uo(eiJ  llic  nbmp 
p:iss»t;e,  is  eiititlid  Amjnlheatrum  aelcrntie  ]rroviitcn- 
iiiie —advenus  iilhcos,  &.c.  Lyons.  1015.  Svo.  Tin:  au- 
thor Vimini  was  a  Atapolitaii,  born  in  l.')8,5.  He  was 
(ilucnted  at  Home,  -.mA  ordaiiiid  a  priest  at  Padua.  He 
travelled  into  many  oountries,  and  wa»  persecuted  in 
■noit.  In  1614  he  was  imprisoned  in  England  for  forty- 
nine  days.  .\ltt'r  his  enlargement  he  became  a  monk  in 
(Juicnnc.  From  the  convent  he  was  banished  fur  his  im- 
morality. He  found,  however,  powerful  patrons.  Marts- 
chal  Bnsiompiere  made  him  his  chaplain,  and  his  famous 
AmpitKenlre  was  approved  by  four  persons,  a  doctor  of 
divinity,  the  vicar  general  ot  Lyons,  the  king's  proctor, 
and  the  lieutenant  general  of  Lyons,  ill  which  lliry  athrin, 
"  that  having  read  the  book,  there  was  nothing  in  it  eon- 
trary  to  the  Konian  Catholic  faith,"  one  example  of  the 
ignorance  or  carelessness,  with  which  licensers  of  the 
press  discharge  their  oflice,  and  consequently  (uie  argu- 
ment among  thousands  for  the  freedom  of  the  press.  'Vnii 
unfortunate  man  was  cnnilemiied  at  Thoiilouse  to  be  burnt 
to  death,  which  srnlenre  wa»  executed  Feb.  19,  ltil9. 
The  execution  of  this  cruel  sentrncr,  cast  into  logical 
form,  runs  thus:  Vaniiii  denied  the  being  of  a  God — the 
parliament  of  Thoulouae  burnt  Vanini — therefore  (here 
IS  a  Ood. 


will."  All  creatures  in  the  universe  owe  their 
existence  to  a  single  act  of  his  will,  and  a  thou- 
sand new  worlds  wait  only  for  such  an  act  to 
spring  from  nothing  and  to  shine  with  glory. 
"  God  is  above  all,"  all  being  subject  to  his 
power.  "  Within  all,"  all  being  an  emana- 
tion of  his  will.  "  Before  all,  after  all." 
Stretch  thine  imagination,  frail  but  haughty 
creature,  try  the  utmost  efforts  of  thy  genius, 
elevate  thy  meditations,  collect  thy  thoughts, 
see  whether  thou  canst  attain  to  comprehend 
an  existence  without  beginning,  a  duration 
without  succession,  a  presence  without  circum- 
ference, an  immobility  without  place,  and  agi- 
lity without  motion,  and  many  other  attri- 
butes which  the  mind  can  conceive,  but  which 
language  is  too  imperfect  to  express.  See, 
weigh,  calculate,  "  It  is  as  high  as  heaven, 
what  canst  thou  do?  Deeper  than  hell,  what 
canst  thou  know?  Canst  thou  by  searching 
find  out  God?  Canst  thou  find  out  the  Al- 
iniglity  unto  perfection?"  Job  ix.  7,  8.  Let  us 
then  exclaim  on  the  border  of  this  abyss,  "  O 
the  depth!" 

II.  The  second  way  that  leads  us  to  the 
Creator,  and  at  the  same  time  the  second  abyss 
in  which  our  reason  is  lost,  is  the  works  of  na- 
ture. The  study  of  nature  is  easy,  and  all  the 
works  of  nature  have  a  bright  and  luminous 
side.  In  the  style  of  a  prophet,  "  the  heavens 
have  a  voice,  which  declare  the  glory  of  God:" 
and,  as  an  apostle  expresses  it,  "  creation  is  a 
visiiile  image  of  the  invisible  things  of  God:" 
yet  there  is  also  a  dark  obscure  side.  What  a 
prodigious  variety  of  creatures  are  there  be- 
yond the  sphere  of  our  senses!  How  many 
thousands,  how  many  "  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  spirits  called  angels,  archangels,  che- 
rubim, seraphim,  thrones,  dominions,  princi- 
jialilies,  and  powers,"  of  all  which  we  know 
not  either  the  properties,  the  operations,  the 
number,  or  the  employment!  What  a  prodi- 
gious multitude  of  stars  and  suns,  and  revolv- 
ing worlds,  in  comparison  of  which  our  earth 
is  nothing  but  a  point,  and  of  all  which  we 
know  neither  the  variety,  the  glory,  nor  the  ap- 
pointment! How  many  things  are  there  on 
earth,  plants,  minerals,  and  animals,  into  the 
nature  and  use  of  which  the  industry  of  man 
could  never  penetrate!  Why  so  much  treasure 
hid  in  the  depths  of  the  sea?  Why  such  vast 
countries,  such  impenetrable  forests,  and  such 
uninhabited  climes  as  have  never  been  sur- 
veyed, and  the  whole  of  which  perhaps  will 
never  be  discovered?  What  is  the  use  of  some 
insects,  and  some  monsters,  which  seem  to  be 
a  burden  to  nature,  and  made  only  to  disfigure 
it'  Why  does  the  Creator  deprive  man  of 
many  rich  productions  that  would  be  of  the 
greatest  advantage  to  him,  while  he  abandons 
them  to  beasts  of  the  field  or  fishes  of  the  sea, 
which  derive  no  benefit  from  them?  Whence 
came  rivers,  fountains,  winds,  and  tempests, 
the  power  of  the  loadstone,  and  the  ebbing  and 
flowing  of  the  tides?  Philosopher!  re])ly,  or 
rather  avow  your  ignorance,  and  acknowledge 
how  deep  the  ways  of  your  Creator  are. 

But  it  is  but  little  to  humble  man  to  detect 
his  ignorance  on  these  subjects.  It  is  not  as- 
tonishing that  he  should  err  in  paths  so  sub- 
lime, and  it  is  more  glorious  to  him  to  have  at- 
tempted these  impracticable  roads,  than  shame- 


Ser.  LXV.] 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


lOI 


ful  to  have  done  so  without  success.  There 
are  other  objects  more  proper  to  humble  hu- 
man reason.  Objects  in  appearance  less  sub- 
ject to  difficulty  absorb  the  mind  of  man,  when- 
ever he  attempts  thoroughly  to  investigate 
them.  Let  him  consider  himself,  and  he  will 
lose  himself  in  meditating  on  his  own  essence. 
What  is  man.'  What  is  tliat  soul  which  thinks 
and  reflecta'  What  constitutes  tiie  union  of  a 
spirit  with  a  portion  of  matter?  What  is  that 
matter  to  which  a  spirit  is  united.'  So  many 
questions,  so  many  abysses,  so  many  unfathom- 
able depths  in  the  ways  of  the  Creator. 

What  is  the  soul  of  man?     In  what  docs  its 
essence  consist'     Is  it  the  power  of  displaying 
his  faculties;?    But  then  this  consequence  would 
follow,  that  a  soul  may  have  the  essence  of  a 
soul;  without  having  ever  thought,  reasoned, 
or  reflected,  provided  it  has  the  power  of  doing 
so.     Is  it  the  act  of  thinking?     But   then  it 
would  follow,  ti»at  a  spirit,  wiieii  it  ceases  to 
think,  ceases  to  be  a  spirit,  which  seems  con- 
trary to  experience.     What  then  is  a  soul?    Is 
it   a  collection   of  successive   thoughts?     But 
how  can  such  and  such  thoughts,  not  one  of 
which  apart  is  essential  to  a  soul,  constitute 
the  essence  of  it  when  they  are  joined  together? 
Is  it  something  distinct  from  all  these?     Give 
us,  if  it  be  possible,  a  clear  idea  of  this  subject. 
What  is  a  soul?     Is  it  a  substance  immaterial, 
indivisible,  different  from  body,  and  which  can- 
not be  enveloped  in  its  ruins?     Certainly:  but 
when  we  give  you  this  notion,  we  ratlier  tell 
you  what  the  soul  is  not,  than  what  it  is.    You 
will   say,  you  remove  false  notions,  but  you 
give  us  no  true  and  positive  ideas;  you  tell  us 
indeed  that  spirit  is  not  body,  but  you  do  not 
explain  what  spirit  is,  and  we  demand  an  idea 
clear,  real,  and  adequate. 

As  I  confound  myself  by  considering  the  na- 
ture of  my  soul,  so  I  am  perplexed  again  when 
I  examine  the  union  of  this  soul  witii  tliis  body. 
Let  us  be  informed,  by  what  miracle  a  sub- 
stance without  extension  and  without  parts, 
can  be  united  to  a  substance  material  and  ex- 
tended? What  connexion  is  there  between 
willing  to  move  and  motion?  What  relation 
has  a  trace  on  the  brain  to  an  idea  of  the  mind? 
How  does  the  soul  go  in  searcii  of  ideas  before 
ideas  present  themselves'  If  ideas  present  them- 
selves, wliat  occasion  for  search?  To  have  re- 
course to  the  power  of  God  is  wise,  I  grant. 


when  we  occupy  the  chair  of  a  professor,  when 
we  make  it  a  law  to  answer  every  question,  it 
is  easy  to  talk,  and,  as  the  Wise  Man  expresses 
it,  to  "  find  a  great  deal  to  say."*  There  is  an 
art,,  which  is  called  maintaining  a  thesis,  and 
this  art  is  very  properly  named,  for  it  does  not 
consist  in  weighing  and  solving  difficulties,  or 
in  acknowledging  our  ignorance;  but  in  per- 
sisting to  affirm  our  own  position,  and  obsti- 
nately to  defend  it.     But  when  we  retire  to 
our  studies,  coolly  meditate,  and  endeavour  to 
satisfy  ourselves,  if  we  have  any  accuracy  of 
thouglit,  we  reason  in  another  manner.     Eve- 
ry sincere  and  ingenuous  man  must  acknow- 
ledge that  solidity,  weight,  light,  and  extent, 
are  subjects,  on  which  many  very  curious,  and 
very  finely  imagined  things  have  been  said,  but 
which  to  this  day  leave  the  mind  almost  in  as 
nnich  uncertainty  as  before.     Thus  the  sub- 
lime genius,  this  author  of  so  many  volumes, 
this  consummate  philosopher  cannot  explain 
what  a  grain  of  dust  is,  so  that  one  atom,  one 
single  atom,  is  a  rock  fatal  to  all  his  philoso- 
pliy,  against  it  all  his  science  is  dashed,  ship- 
wrecked, and  lost. 

Let  us  conclude  that  nature,  this  mirror  de- 
scriptive of  God,  is  dark  and  obscure.     This  is 
emphatically  expressed  by  two  inspired  writers, 
the  apostle  Paul  and  holy  Job.     The  first  says, 
"  God  hath  made  all  nations  of  men,  the  earth, 
the  appointed  seasons,  and  the  bounds  of  men's 
habitation,  that  they  should  seek  the  Lord,  if 
haply  they  might  feel  after  him  and  find  him," 
Acts  xvii.  26.  29.     "This  is  both  a  passable 
road   to    God,   and  an  unfathomable  abyss." 
"  That  they  might  seek  the  Lord;"  this  is  a  way 
leading  to  God.     "  That  they  might  find  him 
by  feeling  after  him;"  this  is  the  abyss.    In  like 
manner  Job  describes  in  lively  colours  the  mul- 
titude and  variety  of  tiie  works  of  the  Creator, 
and  finishes   by  acknowledging,  that  all  we 
know  is  nothing  in  comparison  of  what  we  are 
ignorant  of.    "  He  stretched  out  the  north  over 
the  empty  place,  and  hangeth  the  earth  upon 
notiiing.     fie  hath  compassed  the  waters  with 
bounds.     The  pillars  of  heaven  tremble,  and 
are  a^onished  at  his  reproof     He  divideth  the 
sea  with  his  power.     By  his  spirit  he  hath  gar- 
nisiied  the  heavens,  his  hand  hath  formed  the 
crooked  serpent."     Yet  "these  are  only  part 
of  his  ways!"  Job  xxvi.  7,  &c.     Weigh  these 
expressions  well.     This  firmament,  this  earth, 


if  we  avail  ourselves  of  tiiis  answer  to  avoid    these  waters,  these  pillars  of  heaven,  this  bound- 
our  i-rnorance;  but  if  we  use  it  to  cover  that,  I  less  space,  the  sun  with  its  light,  heaven  with 


if  we  pretend  to  explain  every  thing  by  saying 
God  is  omnipotent,  and  can  do  all  these  things, 
we  certainly  deceive  ourselves.  It  is  to  say,  I 
know  nothing,  in  philosophical  terms,  and 
when,  it  siiould  seem,  we  atfect  to  say,  I  per- 
fectly understand  it. 

In  fine,  I  demand  an  explication  of  the  hu- 
man body.  What  am  I  saying?  the  human 
body!  I  take  the  smallest  particle  of  it;  I  take 
only  one  atom,  one  little  grain  of  dust,  and  I 
give  it  to  be  examined  by  all  the  schools,  and 
all  the  universities  in  the  world.  This  atom 
has  extent,  it  may  be  divided,  it  is  capable  of 
motion,  it  reflects  light,  and  every  one  of  these 
properties  furnishes  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
questions,  which  tlie  greatest  philosophers  can 
never  answer. 

My  bretliren,  when  we  arc  in  the  schools, 


its  stars,  the  earth  with  its  plants,  the  sea  with 
its  fish,  these,  "lo,  these  are  only  parts  of  his 
ways,  but  how  little  a  portion  is  heard  of  him!" 
The  glorious  extent  of  his  power  who  can  un- 
derstand! Let  us  then,  placed  as  we  are  on  the 
borders  of  the  works  of  nature,  humbly  exclaim, 
"  O  tiie  depth!" 

III.  Providence  is  the  third  path  to  God,  and 
affords  us  new  motives  to  adore  his  perfections: 
but  which  also  confounds  the  mind,  and  makes 


'  Hkclcs.  vii.  29.  The  English  translation  of  this  text 
is,  man  lias  sought  out  many  inventions.  The  French 
Bible  reads,  Ont  cherche  beaucoup  de  descours,  that  is, 
mankind  has  found  out  agreat  many  questions  to  ask,  and 
a  great  many  sophisms  to  affirm  on  this  subject;  or  in 
other  words,  a  great  deal  to  say  concerning  the  original 
rectitude  of  man.  The  original  vague  terms  are  ren- 
dered by  some  critics,  Ipse  se  infinitet  nuieumt  quaes- 
tionibus. 


102 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


[Ser.  LXV. 


us  feel  th&t  God  is  no  less  incomprehensible  in 
his  manner  of  governing  the  world  than  in  that 
of  creating  it.  It  would  be  easy  to  prove  tliis, 
if  time  would  allow  us  to  examine  the  secret 
way,  which  Providence  uses  to  govern  this  uni- 
verse. Let  us  be  content  to  cast  our  eyes  a 
moment  on  the  conduct  of  Providence  in  the 
government  of  the  church  for  the  last  century 
and  a  half 

Who  would  have  thought  that  in  a  neigh- 
bouring kingdom  a  cruel  and  superstitious 
king,*  the  greatest  enemy  that  tlie  Reformation 
ever  had,  he,  who  by  tiic  fury  of  his  arms  and 
by  tiie  productions  of  his  pen,  opposed  tiiis  great 
work,  refuting  those  whom  he  could  not  perse- 
cute, and  persecuting  those  whom  he  could  not 
refute,  who  would  have  thought  that  this  mo- 
narch should  first  serve  the  work  he  intended 
to  subvert,  clear  the  way  for  reformation,  and 
by  shaking  off  the  yoke  of  the  Roman  pontiff 
execute  tiie  plan  of  Providence,  while  he  seemed 
to  do  nothing  but  satiate  his  voluptuousness  and 
ambition? 

Who  would  have  thouglit  that  the  ambitious 
Clement,!  to  maintain  some  chimerical  rights, 
which  the  pride  of  the  clergy  had  forged,  and 
which  the  cowardice  of  the  pcojjle  and  the 
effeminacy  of  their  princes  had  granted,  who 
would  have  believed,  tiiat  this  ambitious  pope, 
by  hurling  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  against 
this  king,  would  have  lost  all  that  great 
kingdom,  and  thus  would  have  given  the 
first  stab  to  a  tyranny,  which  he  intended  to 
confirm? 

Who  would  have  imagined  that  Zuinglius 
^yould  have  had  such  amazing  success  among 
the  people  in  the  world  the  most  inviolably  at- 
tached to  the  customs  of  their  predecessors,  a 
people  scrupulously  retaining  even  the  dress  of 
their  ancestors,  a  people  above  all  so  inimical 
to  innovations  in  religion,  that  they  will  hardly 
bear  a  new  explication  of  a  passage  of  Scripture, 
a  new  argument,  or  a  modern  critical  remark, 
who  would  have  supposed,  that  they  could  liave 
been  persuaded  to  embrace  a  religion  diametri- 
cally opposite  to  that  which  they  had  imbibed 
with  their  mothers'  milk?  • 

Who  would  have  believed  that  Luther  could 
have  surmounted  the  obstacles  that  opposed  the 
success  of  his  preaching  in  Germany,  and  that 
the  proud  emperor,J  vvlio  reckoned  among  iiis 
captives  pontiffs  and  kings,  could  not  subdue 
one  miserable  monk? 

Who  would  have  thought  that  the  barbarous 
tribunal  of  the  inquisition,  which  had  enslaved 
80  many  nations  to  superstition,  should  have 
been  in  tlieso  provinces  one  of  the  principal 
causes  of  our  reformation? 

And  perhaps  tlie  dark  nigiit,  which  now  en- 
velops one  part  of  tlio  clmrch,  will  issue  in  a 
bright  morning.  Perhaps  they,  who  in  future 
time  speak  of  Providence,  will  have  reason  to 
add  to  a  catalogue  of  the  deep  tilings  of  divine 
government,  tiie  manner  in  which  God  shall 
have  delivered  tiic  truth  oppressed  in  a  king- 
dom, where  it  once  flourished  in  vigour  and 
beauty.  Perhaps  tiie  repeated  blows  given  to 
the  reformed  may  serve  only  to  establish  the 
reformation.     But  we  abridge  this  tiiird  article, 


*  Heiirv  VIII.  orUnglaiid. 
f  Charic»  V. 


t  Pope  Clement  VII. 


and  proceed  to  the  fourth,  in  which  wo  are  to 
treat  of  the  depllis  of  revelation. 

IV.  Siiall  we  produce  the  mortifying  list  of 
unanswerable  questions,  to  which  many  doc- 
trines of  our  religion  are  liable;  as  for  example 
those  which  regard  the  Trinity,  tlie  incarnation, 
the  satisfaction,  tlie  union  of  two  natures  in  Je- 
sus Christ,  the  secret  ways  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
in  converting  tiie  souls  of  men,  tlie  precise  na- 
ture of  the  liai)piiiess  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  inter- 
mediate state  between  our  deatii  and  our  resur- 
rection, tlie  faculties  of  glorified  bodies,  the 
recollection  of  wliat  we  shall  iiave  seen  in  this 
world,  and  many  more  of  tlie  same  kind? 

All  lliis  would  carry  us  too  far  from  the  prin- 
cipal design  of  tlie  apostle.  It  is  time  to  return 
to  the  precise  subject,  which  inspired  him  with 
this  exclamation.  The  words  of  the  text  are, 
as  wo  have  intimated,  the  conclusion  of  a  dis- 
course contained  in  the  ninth,  tenth,  and  ele- 
venth chapters  of  this  epistle.  Those  chapters 
are  tlie  cross  of  divines.  The  questions  there 
treated  of  concerning  the  decrees  of  God  are  so 
abstruse,  that  in  all  ages  of  the  church,  and 
particularly  since  the  schism  of  Pelagius,  di- 
vines, orthodox  and  heterodox,  have  employed 
all  their  efforts  to  give  us  a  system  free  from 
difficulties,  and  they  have  all  failed  in  their 
design. 

To  enable  you  to  comprehend  this,  we  are 
going  succinctly  to  state  their  different  systems; 
and  the_  short  view  we  shall  take  will  bo  suffi- 
cient toiconvince  you,  that  the  subject  is  beyond 
the  reacii  of  the  human  mind,  and  tiiat  thougli 
the  opinion  of  our  churches  has  this  advantage 
above  otiiers,  that  it  is  more  conformable  to 
right  reason,  and  to  tlie  decisions  of  Scripture, 
yet  it  is  not  without  its  abysses  and  deptlis. 

Let  us  begin  with  tlie  system  of  Socinus  and 
his  followers.  God,  according  to  tliem,  not 
only  has  not  determined  the  salvation  of  his 
children,  but  he  could  not  even  foresee  it. 
Whatever  man  resolves  depends  on  his  own 
volition,  and  whatever  depends  on  human  vo- 
lition cannot  be  an  object  of  the  knowledge  of 
God,  so  tliat  God  could  not  foresee  whether  I 
should  believe  or  not  believe,  whether  1  should 
obey  or  not  obey,  wlietiier  I  should  receive  the 
gospel  or  reject  it.  God  made  no  otlier  decree 
than  tliat  of  saving  such  as  believe,  oliey,  and 
submit  to  his  gospel:  these  tilings  depend  on  my 
will,  what  depends  on  my  will  is  uncertain,  an 
uncertain  object  cannot  be  an  object  of  certain 
knowledge:  God  therefore  cannot  certainly 
foresee,  whether  my  condition  will  be  eternally 
happy,  or  eternally  miserable. 

Tliis  is  the  system.  Thanks  bo  to  God,  we 
preacii  to  a  Cliristian  auditory.  It  is  not  ne- 
cessary to  refute  these  errors,  and  you  feel,  I 
persuade  myself,  tliat  to  reason  in  this  manner 
is  not  to  elucidate,  but  subvert  religion;  it  is  at 
once  to  degrade  CJod  from  his  deity,  and  Scrip- 
ture from  its  infallibility. 

This  system  degrades  God,  for  what,  pray,  is 
a  God,  wlio  created  beings,  and  who  could  not 
foresee  what  would  result  from  their  existence? 
.\  God  who  formed  spirits  united  to  bodies  by 
certain  laws,  and  wlio  did  not  know  how  to 
combine  these  laws  so  as  to  foresee  tlic  effects 
they  would  produce?  A  God  forced  to  suspend 
his  judgment'  A  God  who  every  day  learns 
something  new,  and  who  docs  not  know  to-day 


Ser.  LXV.] 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


103 


what  will  happen  to-morrow.  A  God  who  can- 
not tell  whether  jjoace  will  bo  concluded,  or 
war  continue  to  ravage  the  world;  whether  re- 
ligion will  be  received  in  a  certain  kingdom,  or 
whether  it  will  bo  banished;  whether  tiie  right 
heir  will  succeed  to  the  crown,  cfr  whether  the 
crown  will  ho  set  on  the  head  of  a  usurper?  For 
according  to  tiie  dill'oreut  determinations  of  the 
wills  of  men,  of  kings,  or  people,  the  prince 
will  make  peace,  or  declare  war,  religion  will 
be  banisiicd  or  admitted,  the  tyrant  or  the  law- 
ful king  will  occupy  the  throne:  for  if  God 
cannot  foresee  how  the  volitions  of  men  will  be 
determined,  ho  cannot  foresee  any  of  these 
«vents.  What  is  this  but  to  degrade  God  from 
his  Deity,  and  to  make  the  most  perfect  of  all 
intelligences  a  being  involved  in  darkness  and 
uncertainty  like  ourselves. 

Farther,  to  deny  the  presence  of  God  is  to 
degrade  Scripture  from  its  infallil)ility,  for  how 
can  we  pretend  to  respect  Scripture  when  we 
deny  that  God  knows  tiio  determinations,  and 
volitions  of  mankind?  What  then  are  wo  to 
understand  by  all  the  express  declarations  on 
this  subject'  For  example,  what  does  the 
psalmist  mean?  "  O  God,  thou  hast  searched 
and  known  me.  Thou  knowest  my  down- 
sitting  and  up-rising,  thou  understandest  my 
thoughts  afar  off.  Thou  art  acquainted  with 
all  my  ways,  for  there  is  not  a  word  in  my 
tongue  but  thou  knowest  it  altogether,"  Ps. 
cxxxix.  1,  &.C.  What  means  God  himself, 
speaking  by  Ezekiel?  "  Tiius  saitii  the  Lord  to 
tiie  house  of  Israel,  I  know  the  thoughts  that 
came  into  your  mind  every  one  of  them,"  chap. 
xi.  5.  And  again  by  Isaiah;  "  I  know  that  thou 
wouldst  deal  very  treacherously,"  chap,  xlviii. 
8.  What  did  St.  Peter  mean?  speaking  of  his 
own  thoughts,  he  said,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all 
things,"  John  xxi.  17.  What  does  tlie  Wise 
Man  mean,  who  assures  us,  not  only  tiiat  God 
knows  the  hearts  of  kings,  but  that  he  has  them 
"  in  his  hand,  and  turneth  them  whithersoever 
he  pleaseth  as  rivers  of  water!"  Prov.  xxi.  1. 

Above  all,  how  can  this  principle  be  recon- 
ciled to  many  express  prophecies  of  events 
which  being  closely  connected  witii  the  volitions 
of  men  could  not  have  been  certainly  foretold, 
unless  God  at  the  time  had  a  certain  knowledge 
of  these  determinations?  "  The  prescience  of 
God,"  says  Tertullian,  "  has  as  many  witnesses 
as  there  are  prophets  and  prophecies."*  Had 
not  God  foreseen  that  Jesus  Clirist  would  preach 
the  gospel  in  Judea,  that  the  Jews  wo\ild  hate 
him,  tiiat  they  would  deliver  him  to  Pilate,  that 
they  would  solicit  his  death,  that  Pilate  would 
have  the  meanness  and  pusillanimity  to  yield 
to  their  entreaties;  had  not  God  known  all  these 
things,  how  could  he  iiave  predicted  theuL' 

Hut  the  men  we  oppose  do  not  much  respect 
the  decisions  of  Scripture.  The  principle  to 
which  all  this  system  tends,  is,  that  reason  is  to 
decide  on  the  duclrines  of  Scripture,  and  not 
that  the  doctrines  of  Scripture  are  to  direct 
reason.  Tliis  principle  once  granted,  all  the 
doctrines  of  our  faitli  are  subverted,  as  expe- 
rience proves.  See  into  what  riush  declarations 
this  principle  had  conducted  Socinus  and  his 
followers.  What  decision  of  Scripture,  what 
doctrine  of  faith,  what  trulii  however  esta- 
blished,   repeated,   and   enforced,    has   it   not 


'  lo  his  6CC0Q<1  book  againsl  Marciou. 


allured  them  to  deny?  The  bondage  of  the  ho- 
man  will  seems  to  destroy  the  nature  of  man; 
this  bondage  nmst  he  denied.  But  the  doctrine 
of  absolute  decrees  seems  to  disagree  with  the 
liberty  of  man:  these  absolute  decrees  must  be 
denied.  But  the  foreknowledge  of  God  cannot 
be  allowed  without  the  doctrine  of  decrees-,  the 
foreknowledge  of  God  must  bo  denied.  But  a 
thousand  prophecies  prove  this  prescience;  the 
mystical  sense  of  these  prophecies  most  be  de- 
nied. But  Jesus  Christ  has  verified  them:  then 
Jesus  Christ  must  be  denied  his  titles,  his  at- 
tributes, his  works,  his  worship,  his  satisfaction, 
his  divinity,  his  union  to  God,  his  incarnation, 
must  all  be  denied:  he  must  be  made  a  mere 
man,  a  prophet,  a  teacher,  distinguished  from 
others  only  by  some  extraordinary  talents:  the 
whole  system  of  the  gospel  of  salvation,  and  of 
redemption  must  be  denied.  To  follow  these 
ideas,  my  brethren,  is  to  tumble  from  precipice 
to  precipice  without  knowing  where  we  shall 
stop. 

We  propose  in  the  second  place  the  system 
of  our  brethren  of  the  confession  of  Augsburgh, 
and  that  of  Arminius;  for  though  they  differ 
in  other  articles,  yet  they  both  agree  pretty 
nearly  in  this  point.  Their  system  is  this. 
They  grant  foreknowledge;  but  deny  foreap- 
pointment.  They  allow  indeed  that  God  al- 
ways foresaw  who  would  bo  happy  in  heaven, 
and  who  victims  in  hell;  but  they  tremble  at 
the  thesis,  which  affirms  that  God  predestinated 
the  first  to  felicity,  and  the  last  to  misery.  Ac- 
cording to  them,  God  made  no  other  decree 
than  to  save  believers,  and  to  condemn  infidels; 
he  gave  all  men  assistance  sufficient  to  enable 
them  to  believe,  and  having  only  foreseen  who 
would  believe,  and  who  would  not  believe,  he 
made  no  decree  to  secure  the  faith  of  some, 
and  the  unbelief  of  the  rest. 

Although  it  is  never  our  custom  to  envenom 
controversy,  and  to  tax  people  with  heresy  for 
not  being  of  our  opinion;  though  we  would 
rather  reconcile  opposite  opinions  than  triumph 
in  refuting  them;  yet  we  cannot  help  making 
three  reflections.  First,  this  system  does  not 
agree  with  itself — secondly,  it  is  directly  oppo- 
site to  many  decisions  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
particularly  to  the  doctrine  of  the  three  chap- 
ters before  us — and  thirdly,  should  we  grant 
the  whole,  a  thousand  difficulties  would  re- 
main in  the  doctrine  of  the  decrees  of  God, 
and  we  should  always  be  obliged  to  exclaim, 
as  these  brethren  must  on  this  article,  "  O  the 
depth!" 

1 .  We  affirm,  that  this  system  is  inconsist- 
ent with  itself,  that  the  doctrine  of  prescience 
supposes  that  of  predestination,  and  tiiat  un- 
less we  deny  that  God  foresaw  our  salvation, 
we  are  obliged  by  our  own  thesis  to  affirm  that 
he  predestinated  us  to  it.  I  grant  there  is  a 
sense,  in  which  it  is  true  that  to  foresee  a  thing 
is  different  from  determining  to  bring  it  to 
pass:  but  there  is  another  sense,  in  which  to 
foresee  and  foreappoint  is  one  and  the  same 
thing.  If  I  foresee  that  a  prince  sending  arm- 
ed troops  into  the  house  of  the  widow  and  or- 
piian  will  expose  that  house  to  pillage,  it  is 
certain,  my  foresight  has  no  influence  in  the 
fate  of  tliat  house,  and  in  this  ca.se  to  foresee 
the  act  of  plundering  is  not  a  deiermiiialion  to 
plunder.     But  if  the  prince  foresee  the  event. 


1«4 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


[Ser.  LXV. 


if  he  know  the  rage  and  fury  with  whicli  his 
soldiers  are  animated,  if  he  knew  by  experi- 
ence that  in  such  conjectures  they  have  com- 
mitted such  crimes,  if,  in  spite  of  this  pre- 
science, he  send  his  madmen  into  this  house, 
if  he  allow  them  their  armour,  if  he  lay  them 
under  no  restraint,  if  he  do  not  appoint  any 
superior  officer  to  bridle  their  fury,  do  you  not 
tliink,  my  brethren,  that  to  foresee  and  to  re- 
solve this  case  are  in  him  one  and  the  same 
thing? 

Apply  these  reflections  to  our  subject.     Let 
us  suppose  that   before   the   creation  of  this 
world  God  had  subsisted  alone,  with  one  other 
spirit  such  as  you  please  to  imagine.     Suppose, 
when  God  had  formed  the  plan  of  the  world, 
he  had  communicated  it  to  this  spirit  that  sub- 
sisted   with    him.     Suppose,  that  God    who 
formed  the  plan,  and  the  intelligence  to  whom 
he  had  communicated  it,   had  both  foreseen 
that  some  men  of  this  world  would  be  saved 
and  others  lost;  do  you  not  perceive,  that  there 
would  have  been  an  essential  difterence  be- 
tween the  prescience  of  God,  and  the  prescience 
of  the  spirit  we  have    imagined?     The  fore- 
knowledge of  this  last  would  not  have  had  any 
influence  either  over  the  salvation,  or  destruc- 
tion of  mankind,   because   this  spirit   would 
have  foreknown,  and  that  would  have  been  all. 
but  is  not  the  foreknowledge  of  God  of  another 
kind?    Is  that  a  speculative,  idle,  and  uninflu- 
ential  knowledge?    He  not  only  foresaw,  but 
he  created.    He  not  only  foresaw  that  man  be- 
ing free  would  make  a  good  or  ill  use  of  his 
liberty,  but  he  gave  him  that  liberty.    To  fore- 
see and  to  foreappoint  in  God  is  only  one  and 
the  same  thing.     If  indeed  you  only  mean  to 
affirm,  by  saying,  that  these  are  two  different 
acts,  that  God  does  no  violence  to  his  crea- 
tures, but  that  notwithstanding  his  prescience, 
the  one  hardens  himself  freely,  and  the  other 
believes  freely:  if  this  be  all  you  mean,  give 
us  the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  for  this  is  ex- 
actly our  system,  and  we  have  no  need  to  as- 
perse one  another,  as  both  hold  the  same  doc- 
trine. 

There  is  a  second  inconvenience  in  the  sys- 
tem of  bare  prescience,  that  is,  that  it  does  not 
square  with  Scripture,  which  clearly  establishes 
the  doctrine  of  predestination.  We  omit  many 
passages  usually  ijuoted  in  this  controversy; 
as  that  Jesus  Christ  said  to  his  father,  "  I  thank 
thee,  O  Father,  that  thou  hast  hid  these  things 
from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed 
them  unto  babes.  Even  so.  Father,  for  so  it 
seemed  good  in  thy  sight,"  Matt.  \i.  25.  And 
this  of  St.  Paul,  "  God  hath  chosen  us  in  him 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  having  pre- 
destinated us  to  the  adoption  of  sons,"  Eph.  i. 
4.  As  tiiis  famous  ])assage,  "  whom  he  did 
foreknow  them  he  did  predestinate,  and  whom 
he  did  predestinate  them  he  also  called,"  Ilom. 
viii.  28,  29. 

We  omit  all  these  passages  because  our  op- 
ponents dispute  the  sense  wc  give  of  them,  and 
becau.se  it  is  but  justice  either  to  hear  and  an- 
swer their  objections  (which  the  limits  of  these 
exorcises  will  not  allow)  or  not  to  make  use  of 
them,  for  that  would  lie  taking  for  granted 
what  is  not  allowcul,  that  is,  tliat  these  jias- 
sagcs  speak  of  predcstiMntinn  in  our  .sense  of 
the  term.     Let  us  content  ourselves  to  oppose 


against  the  doctrine  of  prescience  without  pre- 
destination these  three  chapters  in  Romans,  of 
which  the  text  is  the  close. 

I  am  aware  of  what  is  objected.  It  is  said 
that  we  make  phantoms  to  combat,  that  the 
meaning  of  St.  Paul  is  clear,  that  the  end  he 
had  in  view  puts  the  matter  out  of  doubt,  and 
that  his  end  has  no  relation  to  absolute  decrees 
much  less  did  ho  design  to  establish  them. 
The  apostle  had  laid  down  this  position,  that 
the  gospel  would  hereafter  be  the  only  econo- 
my of  salvation,  and  consequently  that  an  ad- 
herence to  the  Levitical  institution  would  be 
fatal.  The  Jews  object  to  this,  for  they  could 
not  comprehend  how  an  adherence  to  a  divine 
institution  could  lead  to  perdition.  St.  Paul 
answers  these  complaints,  by  telling  tliem  tliat 
God  had  a  right  to  annex  his  grace  to  what 
conditions  he  tliought  proper,  and  that  the 
Jews,  having  rejected  the  Messiah  who  brought 
salvation  to  them,  had  no  reason  to  complain, 
because  God  had  deprived  them  of  a  covenant, 
the  conditions  of  which  they  had  not  perform- 
ed. According  to  these  divines  this  is  all  tlie 
mystery  of  these  chapters,  in  which  say  they, 
there  is  no  trace  of  predestination. 

But  how  can  this  be  supposed  to  contain  the 
whole  design  of  the  apostle?     Suppose  a  Jew 
should  appear  in  this  auditory,  and  make  these 
objections  against  us.    You  Christians  form  an 
inconsistent  idea  of  God.     God  said,  the  Mo- 
saical  worship  should  be  eternal:  but  you  say 
God   has   abolished   it.     God  said,  "he  tliat 
doth  these  things  shall  live  by  them;"  but  you 
say,  that  he  who  does  these  things  shall  go  in- 
to endless  perdition  for  doing  them.    God  said, 
the  Messiah  should  come  to  the  children  of 
Abraham;  but  you  say,  he  has  cast   off  the 
posterity  of  the  patriarch,  and  made  a  cove- 
nant with  Pagan  nations.     Suppose  a  Jew  to 
start  these  difficulties,  and  suppose  we  would 
wish  simply  to  remove  them,  independently  of 
the  decrees  we  imagine  in  God,  what  should 
we  say  to  this  Jew?    We  should  tell  him  first, 
that  he  had  mistaken  the  sense  of  the  law; 
and  that  the  eternity  promised  to  the  Levitical 
economy  signified  only  a  duration  till  the  ad- 
vent of  the  Messiah.     Particularly  we  should 
infonn  him  that  his  complaints  against   the 
Messiah  were  groundless.     You  complain,  wo 
should  say,  that  God  makes  void  his  fidelity 
by  abandoning   you,    but  your  complaint    is 
unjust.     God  made  a  covenant  with  your  fa- 
thers, he  promised  to  bless  their  posterity,  and 
engaged   to   send   your   Redeemer  to  bestow 
numberless  benedictions  and  favours  upon  you. 
This  Redeemer  is  come,  he  w.xs  born  among 
you  in  your  nation,  of  a  family  in  one  of  your 
own  tribes,   he  began  to  discharge  his  oHice 
among  you,  and  set  salvation  before  you;  you 
rejected  him,  you  turned  his  doctrine  into  ridi- 
cule, you  called  him  Beelzebub,  you  solicited 
his   death,  at  length  you  crucified  him,  and 
since  that  you  have  persecuted  him  in  his  min- 
isters and  disciples.    On  the  contrary,  tlie  Gen- 
tiles display  his  virtues,  and  they  are  ])rodigal 
of  their  blood  to  advance  his  glory.     Is  it  sur- 
prising, that  God  so  di.spenses  his  favours  as  to 
distiniruish  two  nations  so  very  different  in  the 
manner  of  their  obedience  to  his  authority? 

Instead  of  this,  what  docs  St.  PauP     Hear 
his  answers.    "  Before  the  children  were  born, 


Ser.  LXV.] 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


105 


before  thej  had  done  either  good  or  evil,  that 
the  purpose  of  God  according  to  election  niigiit 
stand,  he  saith,  the  elder  sliall  serve  tlie 
younger.  Jacob  have  I  loved,  but  Esau  have 
I  hated.  I  will  have  mercy  on  whom  I  will 
have  mercy,  and  I  will  have  compassion  on 
whom  I  will  have  compassion.  The  Scripture 
saith  to  Pharaoh,  for  this  purpose  have  I  raised 
thee  up  that  I  might  make  my  power  known. 
He  hath  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have  mercy, 
and  whom  he  will  he  hardeneth.  Wlio  art 
thou  who  rcpliest  against  God?  Shall  the 
thing  formed  say  to  him  that  formed  it,  why 
hast  thou  made  me  thus?  Hath  not  the  potter 
power  over  the  clay,  of  the  same  lump  to  make 
one  vessel  to  honour,  and  another  to  dishonour? 
"What  if  God  willing  to  show  his  wrath,  and 
make  his  power  known,  endures  with  much 
long-suffering  the  vessels  of  wrath  prepared  to 
destruction?"  Rom.  ix.  11,  &c.  In  all  these 
answers,  St.  Paul  has  recourse  to  the  decrees 
of  God.  And  one  proof  that  this  is  the  doc- 
trine he  intends  to  teach  the  converted  Jew, 
to  whom  he  addresses  himself,  is,  that  this  Jew 
makes  some  objections,  which  have  no  ground 
in  the  system  we  attack,  but  which  are  pre- 
cisely the  same  that  have  been  always  urged 
against  the  doctrine  of  predestination.  "  Why 
doth  he  yet  find  fault'  For  who  hath  resisted  his 
will?"  Thus  the  system  of  prescience  without 
predestination  does  not  agree  with  Scripture. 

We  ask,  thirdly,  what  is  the  system  good 
for?  Does  it  cast  any  light  on  the  ways  of 
Providence?  Does  it  fill  up  any  of  the  depths 
which  absorb  our  imjicrfect  reason?  In  a  word, 
is  it  not  subject  to  the  very  same  difficulties  as 
that  of  predestination?  These  difficulties  are 
the  following,  how  could  a  God  supremely 
good  create  men,  who  he  knew  must  be  some 
day  infinitely  miserable?  How  could  a  God  in- 
finitely holy  permit  sin  to  enter  the  world? 
How  is  it,  that  a  God  of  infinite  love  to  justice, 
does  not  Ijestow  on  all  mankind  succour  suffi- 
cient to  render  them  perfectly  holy?  How  it 
came  to  pass  that  a  God,  who  declares  he 
"  would  have  all  men  to  be  saved,"  did  not 
reveal  his  will  for  the  space  of  four  thousand 
years  to  an}-  but  the  single  nation  of  the  Jews? 
How  is  it  that  at  this  present  time  he  does  not 
extend  our  con(iuests  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
that  we  might  carry  thither  the  light  of  Chris- 
tianity, preach  the  gospel  in  idolatrous  climes, 
and  the  mosques  of  Mohammed?  How  does 
he  afford  life,  and  health,  and  strength,  and 
courage,  and  opportunity  to  a  creature,  while 
he  prosecutes  black  and  horrible  crimes,  which 
make  nature  tremble?  These  arc  great  diffi- 
culties in  Providence.  Let  any  one  inform  us 
of  a  system  without  them,  and  we  are  ready 
to  embrace  it:  but  in  this  system  now  before  us 
all  these  difficulties  are  contained,  and  should 
we  grant  its  advocates  all  they  require,  they 
would  be  obliged  however  to  exclaim  with  us 
on  the  borders  of  the  ways  of  God,  "  O  the 
depth!" 

The  third  system  is  that  of  such  divines  as 
are  called  Supralapsaria'iis.  The  word  supra- 
lapsarian  signifies  above  the  fall,  and  these  di- 
vines are  so  called  because  they  so  arrange  the 
decrees  of  God  as  to  go  above  the  fall  of  man, 
as  we  are  going  to  explain.  Their  grand  prin- 
ciple is,  that  God  made  all  things  for  his  own 
Vol.  II.— 14 


glory;  that  his  design  in  creating  the  universe 
was  to  manifest  his  perfections,  and  particular- 
ly iiis  justice  and  his  goodness;  that  for  this 
purpose  he  created  men  with  design  that  they 
should  sin,  in  order  that  in  the  end  he  might 
appear  infinitely  good  in  ])ardoning  softie,  and 
perfectly  just  in  condenuiing  others;  so  that 
God  resolved  to  punish  such  and  such  persons, 
not  because  he  foresaw  they  would  sin,  but  he 
resolved  they  should  sin  that  he  might  damn 
them.  This  is  their  system  in  a  few  words. 
It  is  not  that  which  is  generally  received  in  our 
churches,  but  there  have  been  many  members 
and  divines  among  us  who  adopted  and  defend- 
ed it:  but  whatever  veneration  we  profess  foi' 
their  memory,  we  ingenuously  own,  we  cannot 
digest  such  consequences  as  seem  to  us  neces- 
sarily to  follow  these  positions.  We  will  just 
mention  the  few  difficulties  following. 

First,  we  demand  an  explanation  of  what 
they  mean  by  this  principle,  "  God  has  made 
all  things  for  his  own  glory."  If  they  mean 
that  justice  requires  a  creature  to  devote  him- 
self to  the  worship  and  glorifying  of  his  Creator, 
we  freely  grant  it.  If  they  mean  that  the  at- 
tributes of  God  are  displayed  in  all  his  works, 
we  grant  this  too.  But  if  this  proposition  be 
intended  to  affirm  that  God  had  no  otiier  view 
in  creating  men,  so  to  speak,  than  his  own 
interest,  we  deny  the  proposition,  and  affirm 
that  God  created  men  for  their  own  happiness, 
and  in  order  to  have  subjects  upon  whom  he 
might  bestow  favours. 

We  desire  to  be  infonned  in  the  next  place, 
how  it  can  be  conceived,  that  a  determination 
to  damn  millions  of  men  can  contribute  to 
"  the  glory  of  God?"  We  easily  conceive  that 
it  is  for  the  glory  of  divine  justice  to  punish 
guilty  men:  but  to  resolve  to  damn  men  with- 
out the  consideration  of  sin,  to  create  them  that 
they  might  sin,  to  determine  that  they  should 
sin  in  order  to  their  destruction,  is  what  seems 
to  us  more  likely  to  tarnish  the  glory  of  God 
than  to  display  it. 

Thirdly,  we  demand,  how  according  to  this 
hypothesis  it  can  be  conceived  tliat  God  is  not 
the  author  of  sin?  In  the  general  scheme  of 
our  churches,  God  only  permits  men  to  sin, 
and  it  is  the  abuse  of  liberty  that  plunges  man 
into  misery.  Even  this  principle,  moderate  as 
it  seems,  is  yet  subject  to  a  great  number  of 
difficulties:  but  in  this  of  our  opponents,  God 
wills  sin  to  produce  the  end  he  proposed  in 
creating  the  world,  and  it  was  necessary  that 
men  should  sin;  God  created  them  for  that. 
If  this  be  not  to  constitute  God  the  author  of 
sin,  we  must  renounce  the  most  distinct  and 
clear  ideas. 

Fourthly,  we  require  them  to  reconcile  this 
system  with  many  express  declarations  of 
Scripture,  which  inform  us,  that  "  God  would 
have  all  men  saved."  How  does  it  agree  with 
such  pressing  entreaties,  such  cutting  reproofs, 
such  tender  expostulations  as  God  discovers  in 
regard  to  the  unconverted;  "  O  that  my  people 
had  hearkened  unto  me!  O  Jerusalem,  Jeru- 
salem, how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathers  her 
chickens  under  her  wrings,  and  ye  would  not'" 
Matt,  xxiii.  3". 

Ivastly,  we  desire  to  know  how  it  is  possible 
to  conceive  a  God,  who  being  in  the  actual 


IM 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


[Ser.  LXV. 


enjoyment  of  perfect  happiness,  incomprelien- 
sible  and  supreme,  could  détermine  to  add  this 
degree  though  useless  to  his  felicity,  to  create 
men  witiiout  number  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
fining them  for  ever  in  chains  of  darkness,  and 
burning  them  for  ever  in  un(]uenchable  Haunts. 

Such  are  the  gulfs  opened  to  us  by  these 
divines!  As  they  conceive  of  the  ways  of  God 
in  a  manner  so  much  beyond  comprehension, 
no  people  in  the  world  have  so  much  reason  as 
they  to  exclaim,  "  O  the  depth!  How  un- 
searchable are  the  ways  of  God!"  For  my 
part,  I  own  I  cannot  enough  wonder  at  men, 
who  tell  lis  in  cool  blood,  that  God  created  this 
universe  on  purpose  to  save  one  man,  and  to 
damn  a  hundred  thousand;  that  neither  sighs, 
nor  prayers,  nor  tears,  nor  groans,  can  revoke 
this  decree;  that  we  must  submit  to  the  sen- 
tence of  God,  whose  glory  requires  the  creation 
of  all  these  people  for  destruction!  I  say  I 
cannot  sufficiently  express  my  astonishment  at 
seeing  people  maintain  these  propositions  with 
inflexibility  and  insensibility,  without  attempt- 
ing to  mitigate  or  limit  the  subject,  yea,  who 
tells  us  that  all  this  is  extremely  plain  and  free 
from  every  difficulty,  and  that  none  of  our 
objections  deserve  an  answer. 

Such  being  the  difficulties  of  the  several 
Bj^tems  of  the  decrees  of  God,  it  should  seem 
there  is  but  one  part  to  take,  and  that  is  to 
embrace  the  plan  of  our  churches;  for  although 
it  is  evident  by  the  reflections  we  have  made, 
that  the  subject  is  obscure,  yet  it  is  that  of  all 
which  is  most  conformable  to  the  light  of  rea- 
son, and  to  the  Holy  Scriptures.  We  believe 
that  God  from  a  principle  of  goodness,  created 
mankind — that  it  was  agreeable  to  his  wisdom 
to  form  man  free — that  the  root  of  mankind, 
Adam,  our  unhappy  father,  abused  this  liberty 
— that  his  descendants  have  added  their  natural 
depravity,  and  to  the  sins  of  their  ancestors, 
many  crimes  of  tlieir  own— that  a  conduct  so 
monstrous  rendered  parents  and  children  wor- 
thy of  eternal  misery,  so  that  without  violating 
the  laws  of  justice  God  might  for  ever  punish 
both — that  having  foreseen  from  all  eternity 
these  misfortunes,  he  resolved  from  all  eternity 
to  take  from  this  unworthy  mass  of  condemned 
creatures  a  certain  number  of  men  to  be  saved 
— that  for  them  he  sent  his  Son  into  the  world 
— that  he  grants  them  his  Spirit  to  apply  the 
benefits  of  the  dcatii  of  his  Son — and  that  this 
Spirit  conducts  them  by  tlie  hearing  of  the 
word  to  sanctification,  and  from  sanctification 
to  eternal  felicity.  This  in  a  few  words  is  the 
system  of  our  churches. 

Hereupon,  if  you  ask  how  it  happens  that 
two  men  to  whom  Christ  is  preached,  the  one 
receives  and  the  other  rejects  him?  We  an- 
swer with  St.  Paul,  this  dificrence  is,  "  that 
the  purpose  of  God  according  to  election  might 
stand."  If  yon  ask  again  whence  comes  this 
choice,  how  is  it  that  God  chooses  to  give  his 
Spirit,  and  to  display  his  mercy  to  one,  and 
that  he  chooses  to  make  the  other  a  victim  to 
his  justice?  We  answer,  "  God  hath  mercy 
on  whom  he  will  have  mercy,  and  whom  ho 
will  he  hardeneth,"  that  is,  leaves  liim  to 
his  own  insensibility.  If  you  inquire  farther 
how  God  can  without  injuring  his  holiness, 
leave  a  man  to  his  own  hardness?  We  re- 
ply, that  God  is  master  of  his  creature,  and 


that  "  the  potter  hath  power  over  the  clay, 
of  the  same  lump  to  make  one  vessel  unto 
honour,  and  another  unto  dishonour."  If  you 
still  demand,  what  then  is  the  use  of  our 
ministry,  and  what  right  has  God  to  complain 
that  so  many  sinners  persist  in  impenitence, 
since  he  has  resolved  to  leave  them  in  it'  To 
this  we  answer,  "  who  art  thou  that  repliest 
against  God?  Shall  the  thing  formed  say  to  him 
that  formed  it,  why  hast  thou  made  me  thua'" 

After  all  these  questions  should  you  appeal  to 
our  consciences  to  know  whether  our  own  an- 
swers fully  satisfy  ourselves;  whether  our  argu- 
ments may  not  be  turned  against  us;  whether 
the  objections  we  have  made  against  others  do 
not  seem  to  conclude  against  ourselves;  and 
whether  the  system  we  have  proposed  to  you 
appears  to  ourselves  free  from  difficulty;  to  this 
we  reply  by  putting  our  finger  upon  our  mouth: 
we  acknowledge  our  ignorance,  we  cannot 
rend  the  veil  under  which  God  has  concealed 
his  mysteries:  we  declare,  that  our  end  in 
choosing  this  subject  was  less  to  remove  diffi- 
culties than  to  press  them  home,  and  by  these 
means  to  make  you  feel  the  toleration  which 
Christians  mutually  owe  to  one  another  on  this 
article.  It  was  with  this  view  that  we  led  you  to 
llie  brink  of  this  abyss  of  God,  and  endeavour- 
ed to  engage  you  to  exclaim  here,  as  well  as 
on  the  borders  of  other  abysses,  "  O  the  depth 
of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge 
of  God!  How  unsearchable  are  his  judgments, 
and  his  ways  past  finding  out!" 

So  much  for  the  deep  tilings  of  God  consider- 
ed as  objects  astonishing  and  transporting  the 
mind.  Now  let  us  consider  them  as  objects 
productive  of  virtue  and  holiness.  As  the  doc- 
trine we  have  been  establishing  is  most  sublime 
in  speculation,  so  is  it  most  eflectual  in  practice. 
Recall  what  we  said  on  the  darkness  in  which 
God  conceals  himself.  Remember  this  obscu- 
rity is  every  where  mixed  with  light,  a  sort  of 
twilight.  There  is  obscurity  in  our  natural 
ideas,  obscurity  in  tlie  works  of  nature,  obscu- 
rity in  the  conduct  of  Providence,  obscurity  in 
many  doctrines  of  revelation.  Amidst  all  this 
darkness,  I  discover  one  certain  principle,  one 
particle  of  pure  light  emitting  brightness  with- 
out obscurity,  one  truth  which  natural  ideas, 
the  whole  creation,  the  w-ays  of  Providence, 
and  the  language  of  revelation,  concur  to  teach 
us,  that  is,  that  a  holy  life  is  necessary. 

We  do  not  make  this  reflection  by  way  of 
introducing  skepticism,  and  to  diminish  the 
certainty  of  the  doctrines,  which  it  has  pleased 
God  to  reveal.  Wo  be  to  us,  if  while  we  la- 
bour with  one  hand  to  establish  the  foundations 
of  religion,  we  endeavour  to  subvert  them  with 
the  other!  Far  from  us  bo  tiiose  modern  Va- 
ninis,  wlio,  under  pretence  of  making  us  con- 
sider the  Deity  as  covered  with  holy  darkness, 
would  persuade  us  that  he  is  an  inconsistent 
being,  and  that  the  religion  he  addresses  to  us 
shocks  reason,  and  is  incompatible  with  itself. 
But  whence  is  it,  pray,  that  amidst  all  the 
obscurities  that  surround  us,  God  has  placed 
practical  duties  in  a  light  so  remarkably  clear? 
Wlience  is  it  that  doctrines  most  clearly  re- 
vealed are  however  so  expressed  as  to  furnish 
difficulties,  if  not  substantial  and  real,  yet  likely 
and  apparent:  and  that  the  practical  part  is  so 
clearly  revealed  that  it  is  not  Uable  to  any 


Skr.  LXV.] 


THE  DEEP  THINGS  OF  GOD. 


107 


objections  which  have  any  show  or  colour  of 
argument'  My  brethren,  either  we  must  deny 
the  wisdom  of  the  Creator,  or  we  must  infer 
this  consequence,  that  what  is  most  necessary 
to  be  known,  what  will  be  most  fatal  to  man 
to  neglect,  what  we  ouglit  most  inviolably  to 
preserve,  is  ])ractical  religion.  Let  us  apply 
this  general  reflection  to  tiie  deep  decrees  of 
God.  If  the  "  foundation  of  God  stands  sure," 
you  can  have  no  true  joy  or  solid  content,  till 
you  have  each  of  you  decided  tiiis  great  ques- 
tion; am  I  one  of  the  "  vessels  of  mercy  de- 
creed unto  glory?"  Or  am  I  one  of  tiie  "  ves- 
sels of  wrath  fitting  to  destructionr"  But  iiow 
can  Ï  satisfy  myself  on  this  question  at  the  same 
tdroe  so  obscure  and  so  impoilanl?  Tiie  decree 
is  impenetrable.  The  book  of  life  is  sealed. 
We  have  told  you  a  thousand  times,  that  there 
is  no  other  way  tiian  by  examining  whether  you 
bear  tiie  marks  of  election,  and  your  whole 
vocation  is  to  endeavour  to  acquire  them. 
These  characters,  you  know,  are  patience, 
gentleness,  charity,  humility,  detachment  from 
the  world,  and  all  other  Ciiristian  virtues.  It 
belongs  to  you  to  exercise  them.  A  little  less 
speculation  and  more  practice.  Let  us  become 
less  curious,  and  try  to  bo  more  holy.  Let  us 
leave  God  to  arrange  his  own  decrees,  and  for 
our  parts  let  us  arrange  our  actions,  and  regu- 
late our  lives.  Do  not  say,  if  I  be  predesti- 
nated to  salvation  I  shall  be  saved  without  en- 
deavouring. You  would  be  wicked  to  make 
this  objection,  for  although  you  are  persuaded 
that  your  days  are  numbered,  yet  you  do  not 
omit  to  eat,  and  drink,  and  take  care  of  your 
health.  In  this  manner  you  should  act  in  re- 
gard to  your  salvation. 

And  we,  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ,  what  is 
our  duty.'  Why  are  we  sent  to  this  people?  Is 
it  to  fathom  the  decrees  of  predestination  and 
reprobation?  As  the  Spirit  of  God  has  reveal- 
ed these  mysteries,  it  is  right  to  treat  of  them 
in  the  course  of  our  ministry,  and  we  should 
"  think  more  highly  of  ourselves  than  we  ought 
to  think,"  were  we  to  suppress  this  part  of  re- 
ligion. But  after  all,  must  we  stop  here?  Must 
this  be  the  principal  subject  of  our  sermons? 
God  forbid  we  should  so  ill  understand  the  end 
of  our  ministry!  I  would  as  willingly  see  a 
physician,  when  he  is  consulted  in  a  dangerous 
illness,  employ  himself  in  discoursing  on  the 
term  of  human  life,  haranguing  his  patient, 
telling  him  that  his  days  are  numbered,  and 
that  a  hair  of  his  head  could  not  fall  without 
the  will  of  God.  Unseasonable  orator,  leave 
talking,  and  go  to  work,  consult  the  symptoms 
of  iny  illness,  call  art  and  nature  to  my  assist- 
ance, leave  God  to  e.xecute  his  own  decrees, 
prescribe  the  remedies  I  must  take,  and  the 
regimen  I  must  follow,  endeavour  to  strengthen 
this  tottering  body,  and  to  retain  my  breath 
just  ready  to  evaporate.  Let  us  apply  this 
image.  Let  us  think  of  the  account  we  must 
give  to  tlie  master  who  sent  us.  Let  us  take 
care  that  he  does  not  say  to  us  in  the  great  day 
of  judgment.  Get  ye  behind  me  ye  refractory 
servants!  I  sent  you  to  make  the  church  holy, 
and  not  render  it  disputatious:  to  confirm  my 
elect,  and  not  to  engage  them  in  attempts  to 
penetrate  the  mysteries  of  election,  to  announce 
my  laws,  and  not  to  fathom  my  decrees. 

But  not  to  confine  ourselves  to  these  general 


remarks,  let  us  observe,  that  obscurity  in  regard 
to  God  aflbrds  powerful  arguments  against  the 
rash  divine,  the  indiscreet  zealot,  the  timorous 
Christian,  and  the  worldly  man  attached  to 
sensiljle  objects. 

Tiiis  subject  addresses  itself  to  you  rash  di- 
vines, you  who  perplex  your  mind  by  trying 
to  conii)rehend  incouiprehensible  truths,  to  you 
whose  audacious  disposition  obliges  you  to  run 
into  one  of  these  two  extremes,  eitlier  to  em- 
brace error  or  to  render  truth  doubtful  by  the 
manner  of  explaining  it.  For  understand,  my 
bretlircn,  the  man  who  rejects  a  trutii  because 
lie  cannot  comprehend  it,  and  he  who  would 
fully  cOAiprchend  it  before  lie  receives  it,  both 
sin  from  tl^«  same  principles,  neitlier  under- 
stands khc'limits  of  the  human  mind.  These 
two  extremes  are  alike  dangerous.  Certainly 
on  tlie  one  hand  we  must  be  very  rash,  we 
must  entertain  very  diminutive  ideas  of  an  in- 
finite God,  wo  must  be  very  little  versed  in 
science  to  admit  only  principles  which  have 
no  difiiculty,  and  to  regard  the  depth  of  a  sub- 
ject as  a  character  of  falsehood.  What!  A 
miserable  creature,  an  ignorant  creature,  a 
creature  that  does  not  know  itself,  would  know 
the  decrees  of  God,  and  reject  tiiem  if  they  be 
unfathomable!  But  on  tlic  other  hand,  we 
must  have  very  narrow  views,  we  must  have 
a  very  weak  mind,  we  must  know  very  little 
of  tlie  design»  of  God,  not  to  feel  any  difficulty, 
to  find  every  thing  clear,  not  to  suspend  our 
judgment  upon  any  thing,  to  pretend  not  only 
to  perceive  the  trutli  of  a  mystery,  but  to  go  to 
the  bottom  of  it.  Insignificant  man,  feel  thy 
diminutiveness.  Cover  thyself  with  dust,  and 
learn  of  tlie  greatest  of  divines  to  stop  where 
you  ought  to  stop,  and  to  cry  on  the  brink  of 
the  ocean,  "O  the  depth!" 

Tlie  deep  things  of  God  ought  to  confound 
the  indiscreet  zealot,  who  decries  and  reviles 
all  opinions  different  from  his  own,  though  in 
matters  in  themselves  dark  and  obscure.  Here 
we  pour  our  tears  into  the  bosoms  of  our  bre- 
thren of  Augsburgh,  some  of  whose  teachers 
describe  us  in  the  most  odious  colours,  dip  their 
pen  in  gall  when  they  write  against  us,  tax  us 
with  making  of  the  Deity  a  God  cruel  and 
barbarous,  a  God  who  is  the  author  of  sin,  and 
who  by  his  decrees,  countenances  the  depravity 
and  immorality  of  mankind.  You  see,  whether 
this  be  oar  doctrine.  You  see,  we  join  our 
voices  with  those  of  seraphims,  and  make  our 
assemblies  resound  with  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is 
the  Lord  of  hosts."  You  see,  we  exhort  our 
people  to  "  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,"  and 
to  "  work  out  their  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling."  But,  say  you,  do  not  the  conse- 
quences we  impute  to  you  follow  from  your 
principles?  To  grant  for  a  moment  that  they 
do  follow,  is  it  not  sufficient  that  we  disown 
and  condemn  them?  Does  not  such  an  answer 
from  you  concerning  another  doctrine  satisfy 
us?  Accuse  us  of  being  bad  reasoners:  but  do 
not  accuse  us  of  being  wicked  men.  Accuse 
us  of  reasoning  inconclusively,  but  do  not  ac- 
cuse us  of  exercising  a  faithless  ministry.  But, 
say  you,  you  have  divines  among  you  who 
poison  controversy,  who  refute  with  bitterness, 
who  excommunicate  such  as  are  not  of  their 
sentiments  on  predestination,  and  who,  had 
they  power  equal  to  their  will,  would  establish 


tm 


THE  SENTENCE  PASSED  UPON  JUDAS 


[Ser.  LXVI. 


every  opinion  with  fire  and  blood.  Have  we 
such  divines?  Ah!  may  God  deliver  us  from 
them!  They  follow  tlieir  own  spirit,  and  not 
the  spirit  of  our  churches.  Our  cliurches  never 
separated  any  person  from  tlioir  communion 
for  not  believing  predestination.  You  know 
this  by  experience.  Do  we  not  open  our  arms 
to  you?  Do  we  not  receive  you  into  our  com- 
munion? Have  we  not  a  sincere  and  ardent 
desire  to  be  in  union  with  you?  O  that  God 
would  hear  our  prayers!  Spouse  of  Jesus 
Christ!  O  that  God  would  put  an  end  to  the 
intestine  wars  that  tear  thee  asunder!  Chil- 
dren of  the  Reformation!  ()  that  you  had  but 
the  wisdom  to  unite  all  your  efforts  agiiiist  the 
real  enemy  of  tho  Reformation,  apd  of  the  re- 
formed! This  is  our  wish,  and  théss  shall  in- 
cessantly be  our  prayers. 

The  depths  of  the  ways  of  God  may  serve 
to  reprove  the  timid  and  revolting  Christian; 
a  character  too  common  among  us.  Our  faith 
forsakes  us  in  our  necessities;  we  lose  tiie  sure 
anchor  of  hope  in  a  storm;  we  usually  dash 
against  rocks  of  adversity;  we  are  confounded 
when  we  see  those  projects  vanish,  on  the  suc- 
cess of  wliich  we  rested  our  happiness,  and  the 
prosperity  of  the  church.  Aly  brctliren,  let 
us  be  more  firm  in  our  principles.  Clirislian 
prudence  indeed  will  oblige  us  to  put  our  hand 
to  every  good  work.  We  must  be  vigilant, 
assiduous,  exact  in  our  own  affairs.  In  like 
manner  in  public  dangers,  we  must  assemble 
wise  men,  raise  armies,  and  every  one  must 
endeavour  to  do  what  is  in  his  power,  and  carry 
a  stone  towards  the  building  of  the  temple:  but 
when  our  designs  fail,  let  us  be  steady,  im- 
moveable, unchangeable.  Let  us  remember 
that  we  are  only  little  children  in  comparison 
with  the  Intelligence  at  the  helm  of  the  world; 
that  God  often  allows  us  to  use  just  and 
rational  means,  and  at  length  frustrates  all 
our  designs  in  order  to  deliver  us  by  unexpected 
methods,  and  to  save  us  with  more  conspicuous 
power  and  glory. 

When  I  am  to  penetrate  this  truth,  I  fix  my 
eyes  on  the  great  enemy  of  religion.  I  see 
him  at  first  equalling,  yea  surpassing  the  most 
superb  potentates,  risen  to  a  point  of  elevation 
astonishing  to  the  whole  world.  His  family 
numerous,  his  armies  victorious,  his  territories 
extended  far  and  wide,  at  home  and  abroad. 
I  see  places  conquered,  battles  won,  and  every 
blow  aimed  at  his  throne,  serving  only  to  esta- 
blish it.  I  see  a  servile  idolatrous  court  ele- 
vating him  above  men,  above  heroes,  and 
likening  him  to  God  himself  I  see  all  parts 
of  the  world  overwhcltned  with  his  troops, 
your  frontiers  threatened,  religion  trembling, 
and  the  Protestant  world  at  the  brink  of  ruin. 
At  the  sight  of  this  tempest,  I  expect  every 
moment  to  see  the  church  expire,  and  I  exclaim, 
O  thou  little  boat,  driven  with  tho  wind,  and 
battered  in  the  storm!  Are  the  waves  going 
to  swallow, thee  up?  O  church  of  Jesus  Christ! 
against  which  tho  gates  of  hell  were  never  to 

ftrevail,  are  all  my  hopes  como  to  this! — Bo- 
lold  Almighty  God  makes  bare  his  holy  arm, 
discovers  himself  amidst  all  this  chaos,  and 
overwhelms  us  with  miracles  of  love,  after 
having  humbled  us  by  the  darkness  of  his  Pro- 
yi^ence.     Behold!    In  two  campaigns,*  more 


than  a  hundred  thousand  enemies  are  either 
buried  in  the  waves,  or  killed  by  our  troops, 
or  trodden  to  death  by  our  horse,  or  taken 
prisoners.  Behold!  whole  provinces  yield  to 
our  arms.  Behold!  our  noble  army  covered 
with  more  laurels  than  we  had  ever  seen  be- 
fore. Behold  the  fatal  power  that  was  just 
now  exalted  to  heaven,  shaking,  falling,  and 
about  to  be  cast  down  to  hell.  My  brethren, 
let  these  events  make  us  wise.  Let  us  not 
judge  of  the  conduct  of  God  by  our  own  ideas, 
but  let  us  learn  to  respect  the  depths  of  his 
Providence. 

But  what!  shall  we  always  live  in  shades 
and  darkness!  Will  there  always  be  a  veil  be- 
tween the  porch  and  the  sanctuary?  Will  God 
always  lead  us  among  chasms  and  gulfs?  Ah! 
my  brethren,  these  are  precisely  the  ejacula- 
tions, these  are  the  desires  with  which  we 
would  inspire  you;  and  this  we  affirm,  that 
the  deep  things  of  God  expose  the  folly  of  a 
worldly  man,  who  immoderately  loves  the  pre- 
sent life.  Presently  this  night,  this  dark  night, 
shall  bo  at  an  end;  presently  we  shall  enter 
into  that  temple,  "  where  there  is  no  need  of 
the  sun,  because  the  Lamb  is  the  light  there- 
of," Rev.  xxi.  23.  Presently  we  shall  arrive 
at  that  blessed  period,  when  that  which  is  in 
part  shall  be  done  away.  In  heaven  we  shall 
know  all  things.  In  heaven  we  shall  under- 
stand nature,  providence,  grace,  and  glory.  In 
heaven,  Jesus  Christ  will  solve  all  our  diffi- 
culties and  objections.  In  heaven  we  shall  see 
God  face  to  face.  O  liow  will  this  knowledge 
fill  us  with  joy!  O  how  delightful  will  it  be  to 
derive  knowledge  and  truth  from  their  source! 
My  soul,  quit  thy  dust!  Anticipate  these  pe- 
riods of  felicity,  and  say  with  Closes,  "Lord, 
show  me  thy  glory!"  O  Lord,  dissipate  the 
clouds  and  darkness  that  are  around  thy  throne! 
O  Lord  shorten  the  time  that  separates  us!  .  .  . 
"  No  man  can  see  my  face  and  live."  Well! 
Let  us  die  then.  Let  us  die  to  become  im- 
mortal. Let  us  die  to  know  God.  Let  us 
die  to  be  made  partakers  of  the  divine  nature. 
Happy  to  form  such  elevated  wishes!  Happier 
still  to  see  them  accomplished!     Amen. 


Of  Hochittt  anc)  Uamillic 


SERMON  LXVI. 


THE  SENTENCE  PASSED  UPON  JUDAS 
BY  JESUS  CHRIST. 


Matthew  xxvi.  24. 

Tlie  Son  of  man  goeth  as  it  is  written  of  him: 
but  wo  unto  that  man  by  whom  the  Son  of  man 
is  betrayed:  it  had  been  good  for  that  ma»,  if  he 
h(ul  not  been  bom. 

This  verse  is  part  of  a  period  beginning  at 
tlie  seventeenth,  and  ending  with  the  twenty- 
fifth  verse,  in  which  the  evangelist  narrates 
two  events,  the  last  passover  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  the  treason  of  Judas.  One  of  my  col- 
leagues will  explain  the  other  parts  of  this  pas- 
sage of  sacred  history,  and  I  shall  confine  my- 
self to  this  sentence  of  our  Saviour  against  Ju- 
das, "  It  had  been  good  for  that  man,  if  he  had 
not  been  bom." 
This  oracle  is  unequivocal.     It  conveys  a 


Ser.  LXVI.] 


BY  JESUS  CHRIST. 


109 


most  melancholy  idea  of  the  condition  of  the 
unhappy  criminal.  It  should  seem,  Jesus  Christ 
enveloped  in  (jiialified  terms  a  truth  the  most 
dreadful  imaginable.  These  words,  "  It  had 
been  good  for  that  man,  if  he  had  not  been 
born,"  are  equivalent  to  these,  Judas  is  for  ever 
excluded  from  the  happiness  of  heaven;  Judas 
is  for  ever  condemned  to  the  pimishment  of 
hell.  It  is  the  same  truth,  whicli  the  apostles 
expressed,  after  the  example  of  their  master, 
in  milder  terms,  "  Thou  Lord,  which  knowest 
the  hearts  of  all  men,  show  whether  tliou  hast 
chosen  Justus  or  Matthias,  that  he  may  take 
part  of  this  apostleship,  from  which  Judas  by 
transgression  fell,  that  he  might  go  to  his  own 
place,"  Acts  i.  24 — 28.  What  is  this  place? 
The  answer  is  easy,  though  some  ancient  here- 
tics affirm  extravagant  things  about  it.  It  is 
the  place  reserved  for  those  against  whom  the 
door  of  mercy  is  shut:  it  is  the  place  reserved 
for  those  who  must  for  ever  serve  for  victims 
of  divine  justice. 

If  you  recall  to  mind  all  the  most  guilty 
persons,  and  those  whose  condition  is  the  most 
desperate,  you  will  not  find  one  of  whom  tiiat 
can  be  said  without  rashness  which  is  here  af- 
firmed of  Judas,  Judas  is  the  only  person,  lite- 
rally the  only  person,  whom  we  are  allowed 
with  certainty  to  declare  is  in  the  torments  of 
hell.  Certainly  we  cannot  help  forming  la- 
mentable ideas  of  the  condition  of  some  sin- 
ners, who  died  in  perpetrating  their  crimes;  as 
of  some  who  were  less  men  than  monsters  of 
humanity,  and  who  died  blaspheming  God, 
and  attacking  religion  and  morality,  as  Pha- 
raoh, Belshazzar,  Julian,  and  others;  but  after 
all,  it  is  not  for  us  to  set  limits  to  the  mercy  of 
God.  The  Holy  Spirit  has  ways  unknown  to 
us  to  convert  the  hearts  of  men.  Judas  is  the 
only  one  without  exception,  of  whom  I  dare 
venture  to  affirm,  he  is  irrecoverably  lost.  And 
when  I  form  this  judgment  of  his  destiny,  I  do 
not  ground  it  merely  on  his  betraying  Jesus 
Christ;  for  it  is  not  impossible  that  after  he 
had  committed  that  crime  he  might  have  ob- 
tained forgiveness  by  repentance.  I  do  not 
ground  it  on  the  manner  of  his  death,  for  he 
was  distracted,  and  madness  is  sometimes 
caused  by  trouble,  and  in  such  a  case  reason 
has  no  share,  and  divine  justice  does  not  im- 
pute sin  to  a  man  deprived  of  his  senses.  I 
ground  my  judgment  of  the  punishment  of 
Judas  on  the  words  of  my  text,  "  It  had  been 
good  for  that  man,  if  he  had  not  been  born;" 
words  never  denounced  by  the  Spirit  of  God 
against  any  other  wretch  that  ever  was.  Thus 
the  object  which  I  e.xhibit  to  your  view  to-day, 
is  not  only  a  particular  object,  but  is  even  an 
unique,  a  sole,  a  single  object. 

But  perhaps,  because  it  is  a  singular  case, 
you  ihink  it  does  not  regard  you,  and  that  you 
need  not  make  any  inferences  concerning  your 
own  eternal  destiny  from  it.  And  does  not  this 
object  regard  you?     Alas!  My  brethren,  I  dare 

not but  however  hear  me;  condescend 

to  accompany  me  in  this  mortifying  and  (I 
must  tell  you,  how  improper  soever  it  may 
seem  to  reconcile  your  attention)  deign  to  ac- 
company us  in  this  alarming  meditation. 
Come  and  examine  what  a  melancholy  like- 
ness there  is  between  the  features  of  some  of 
our  hearers,  and  those  of  the  miserable  Judas. 


How  like  are  their  dispositions!  How  sad  so- 
ever the  examination  may  be,  there  is  at  least 
one  comfortable  consideration,  at  least  one  dif- 
ference between  them  and  this  traitor,  that  is, 
.lesns  Christ  has  pronounced  the  decree  of  his 
condemnation,  whereas  he  has  not  yet  pro- 
nounced the  sentence  on  my  hearers;  the  door 
of  mercy  is  yet  open  to  them,  the  time  of  their 
visitation  is  not  yet  quite  expired.  O  that 
they  would  avail  themselves  of  the  few  inesti- 
mable moments  that  remain!  O  that  they 
would  throw  themselves  at  the  feet  of  that 
Jesus  wlioni  tliey  have  so  often  betrayed!  O 
that  tliey  may  be  washed  in  that  blood  which 
they  have  so  unworthily  trodden  under  foot! 
God  Almighty  grant,  for  his  great  mercy's 
sake,  that  this  may  be  the  effect  of  this  dis- 
course! Grant,  O  God,  that  such  of  us  as  are 
best  established  in  piety  may  be  filled  with 
holy  fear,  by  seeing  to  wiiat  excess  self-interest 
may  be  carried!  "  O  Lord,  incline  my  heart 
unto  thy  testimonies,  and  not  unto  covetous- 
ness."     Amen. 

"  It  had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had 
not  been  born,"  or  what  is  the  same  thing  in 
this  place,  "  If  he  had  never  existed,  and  were 
not  to  exist  any  longer."  Let  us  first  explain 
the  meaning  of  Jesus  Christ  by  a  few  reflec- 
tions, and  justify  the  idea  I  have  given  you  of 
the  words.  , 

1 .  Existence  is  the  foundation  of  happiness 
and  misery.  Nothing  has  no  properties.  Not 
to  exist  is  to  be  neither  happy  nor  miserable. 
To  exist  is  to  be  capable  of  one  or  the  other, 
or  both  together.  Existence  considered  in  it- 
self, is  indifferent  to  the  being  existing;  it  is 
the  happiness  or  the  misery  with  which  it  is 
accompanied,  which  determines  the  value  of 
it.  If  it  were  possible  for  a  man  to  exist  with- 
out being  either  happy  or  miserable,  his  exist- 
ence would  be  in  some  sort  useless  and  indif^ 
ferent,  and  it  would  be  true  in  regard  to  him, 
that  it  would  be  neither  good  nor  evil  to  him 
to  be  born  or  not  to  bo  born.  If  the  existence 
of  a  man  be  accompanied  with  equal  degrees 
of  happiness  and  misery,  we  must  form  the 
same  judgment;  misery  is  compensated  by 
happiness,  and  happiness  by  misery,  the  ba- 
lance is  equal,  and  preponderates  neither  way. 
If  there  be  more  happiness  than  misery  in  his 
existence,  it  is  true  in  regard  to  him,  that  it  is 
better  for  him  to  be  than  not  to  be;  on  the 
contrary,  if  misery  exceed  happiness,  .... 
finish  this  proposition  yourselves,  and  apply  it 
to  the  subject  in  hand.  "  It  had  been  good  for 
Judas  if  he  had  not  been  born."  So  Jesus 
Christ  declares.  The  existence  of  Judas  then 
must  be  attended  with  more  misery  than  hap- 
piness.    This  is  our  first  reflection. 

2.  To  judge  whether  a  man  be  happy  or 
miserable,  whether  it  would  be  better  for  him 
to  exist  or  not  to  exist,  we  must  not  consider 
him  in  regard  to  a  few  moments,  but  in  the 
whole  of  his  existence;  we  must  examine 
whether  all  things  considered  good  be  greater 
than  evil,  or  evil  greater  than  good.  The 
good  and  ills  of  past  hfe  generally  leave  no  im- 
pression on  our  minds,  they  contribute  only 
to  our  present  happiness  or  misery,  and  there 
remains  nothing  but  a  remembrance  of  them. 
If  you  can  judge  of  the  happiness  or  misery  of 
man  by  his  actual  condition,  you  will  say  in 


no 


THE  SENTENCE  PASSED  UPON  JUDAS 


[Ser.  LXVI. 


each  moment  of  his  happiness,  it  is  better  for 
him  to  be  tlian  not  to  be;  and  during  every 
moment  of  liis  misery,  you  will  say,  it  is  better 
for  him  not  to  exist.  But,  as  I  said  before,  it 
is  not  in  regard  to  a  single  instant  that  a  man 
ought  to  be  considered  to  determine  whether 
he  be  happy  or  miserable;  it  is  in  the  whole 
of  his  existence. 

I  make  this  reflection  to  prevent  your  sup- 
posing that  when  Jesus  Christ  said,  "It  had 
been  good  for  Judas  if  he  had  not  been  born," 
he  meant  Judas  should  be  annihilated.  Had 
Judas  been  annihilated  after  death,  it  must  be 
said,  according  to  our  first  proposition,  that 
Judas  after  death  would  not  be  either  happy 
or  miserable;  that  it  would  not  have  been 
either  good  or  evil  for  him  to  be  born  or  not  to 
be  born.  In  this  case,  to  form  a  just  idea  of 
the  value  of  the  existence  of  Judas,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  compare  the  misery  of  his  end 
with  the  happiness  of  his  life,  and  as  we  have 
no  reason  to  think  he  had  been  more  miserable 
than  happy  in  his  life,  as  we  have  reason  to 
presume,  on  the  contrary,  that  having  been  in 
a  middling  state  of  life,  he  had  enjoyed  the 
gifts  of  nature  with  some  kind  of  tranquillity, 
it  could  not  be  affirmed,  strictly  speaking,  that 
because  he  died  a  violent  death,  "  it  had  been 
good  for  him  if  he  had  not  been  born."  The 
death  of  Judas  separated  from  its  consequences 
was  not  more  miserable  than  that  of  a  man 
who  dies  in  his  bed  after  lying  ill  some  days; 
and  as  we  cannot  affirm  of  a  man,  who  after 
enjoying  a  tranquil  life  dies  by  an  illness  of 
some  days,  that  "  it  had  been  good  for  that 
man  if  he  had  not  been  born,"  so  neither  can 
we  affirm  of  Judas,  if  he  had  been  annihilated 
after  death.  When  Jesus  Christ  says,  "  it  had 
been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been 
born,"  he  supposes  he  would  subsist  after 
death.  He  compares  the  condition  he  would 
be  in  after  death  with  all  the  good  he  had  en- 
joyed, and  would  enjoy  during  life;  and  by 
thus  forming  his  judgment  on  the  whole  of 
existence,  he  determines  that  the  existence  of 
this  traitor  would  be  accompanied  with  more 
evil  than  good,  and  he  pronounces,  "  it  would 
have  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been 
born,"  that  is  to  say,  if  he  never  had  existed, 
and  if  he  never  were  to  exist  any  longer.  This 
is  our  second  reflection. 

3.  Whatever  misfortunes  attend  the  present 
life,  there  are  few  men,  wlio,  all  things  consi- 
dered, would  not  rather  choose  to  live  for  ever, 
as  we  live  in  this  world,  than  to  be  annihilated 
after  living  a  few  years.  I  do  not  inquire 
whether  their  choice  bo  good;  1  only  say  it  is 
their  choice,  the  fact  is  incontestable.  If  few 
men  be  of  the  mind  of  Maecenas,  who  said, 
*'  Let  me  sufter,  let  me  be  despised,  and  mise- 
rable, yet  I  would  rather  exist  than  not  exist," 
if  there  be,  I  say,  few  men  of  the  opinion  of 
this  favourite  of  Augustus,  tliere  are  few  also 
who  adopt  tiie  sentiment  of  the  Wise  Man,  or 
shall  1  say  of  the  fool?  (for  there  is  some  rea- 
son to  doubt,  whotiier  it  be  the  language  of 
Solomou  or  the  fool  introduced  in  the  book,") 
*'  I  praised  the  dead  which  are  already  dead, 
more  than  the  living  which  are  yet  alive:  yea, 
better  is  he  than  botii  they,  which  hath  not  yet 
been,"  Eccles.  iv.  ii,  3.  To  consider  things  as 
they  usually  are,  whatever  misfortunes  attend 


life,  mankind  prefer  life  before  annihilation. 
Whether  their  taste  be  good  or  bad,  we  do  not 
inquire  now,  we  speak  of  a  fact,  and  the  fact  is 
indisputable.  Jesus  Christ  speaks  to  men,  he 
supposes  their  ideas  to  be  what  they  are,  and 
he  speaks  according  to  these  ideas.  When  he 
says,  "  it  had  been  good  for  Judas,  if  he  had 
not  been  born,"  he  means  that  his  misery 
would  be  greater  after  death  tlian  it  had  been 
during  his  life;  for  how  disgusting  soever  life 
may  be,  mankind  prefer  it  before  annihilation; 
and  if  Judas  had  no  other  punishment  to  suf- 
fer for  his  perfidy  than  such  as  belonged  to  the 
present  state,  Jesus  Christ  would  not  have 
said,  "  it  had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had 
not  been  born."  He  intended  we  should  un- 
derstand that  Judas  would  be  more  miserable 
in  a  future  economy,  than  we  are  in  this  life, 
in  spite  of  the  maladies  to  which  our  frailty 
exposes  us,  in  spite  of  tiie  vicissitudes  we  ex- 
perience, and  in  spite  of  the  sacrifices,  which 
we  are  daily  required  to  make. 

4.  If,  as  we  said  at  first,  the  sentence  of 
Jesus  Christ  against  Judas  be  expresssed  in 
mild  terms,  we  must,  in  order  fully  to  compre- 
hend tlie  sense,  lay  aside  the  soft  language, 
and  advert  to  the  terrible  subject.  But  can  we 
without  rashness  change  the  terms  of  a  sen- 
tence which  the  Saviour  pronounced,  and  give 
the  whole  of  what  he  spoke  only  in  part'  Yes, 
provided  the  part  we  add  be  taken  not  from 
our  own  systems,  but  from  that  of  Jesus  Christ, 
who  only  can  fill  up  the  space  which  sufficient 
reasons  induced  him  to  leave  vacant  when  he 
gave  out  this  sentence.  Now  we  find  two 
things  in  tiie  system  of  Jesus  Christ  on  this 
subject.  First,  that  the  misery  denounced 
against  Judas  is  of  the  most  dreadful  kind. 
And  secondly,  that  Jesus  Christ  denounces 
against  him  the  greatest  degree  of  misery  of 
this  kind.  Or  to  express  myself  more  clearly, 
my  first  proposition  is,  that  every  place  in  hell 
is  intolerable.  My  second  proposition  is,  that 
Jesus  Christ  doomed  Judas  to  the  most  intole- 
rable place  in  hell. 

Does  our  first  proposition  need  proving.'  I 
lay  aside  what  the  Scripture  tells  us  of  the 
"  lake,"  the  "  bottomless  pit,"  the  "  brim- 
stone," the  "  smoke,"  the  "  darkness,"  the 
"  chains  of  darkness,"  the  "  worm  that  never 
dies,  and  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched." 
Frightful  objects!  I  have  no  need  to  recollect 
you  to  form  gloomy  images  of  the  state  of  the 
damned.  My  idea  of  heaven  is  sufficient  to 
give  mo  a  horrible  image  of  hell.  "  Pleasures 
at  God's  right  hand  for  evermore;"  joy  of  an  in- 
telligent creature  finding  his  knowledge  for  ever 
on  the  mcrease;  calm  of  a  conscience  washed 
in  tiie  blood  of  the  Lamb;  freedom  from  all 
the  maladies  that  aftlict  poor  mortals,  from  all 
the  inquietudes  of  doubt,  and  from  alL  tiie 
turbulence  of  the  passions:  society  of  angels, 
archangels,  cherubim,  and  all  that  multitude 
of  intelligences,  wliich  God  has  associated 
both  in  rectitude  and  glory:  close  communion 
with  the  happy  God;  felicity  of  heaven:  it  is 
you  that  makes  me  conceive  the  horrible  state 
of  hell!  To  bo  for  ever  deprived  of  your 
charms,  this  alone  is  enough  to  make  me  trem- 
ble at  the  idea  of  hell. 

But  if  every   place  in  hell  be  intolerable, 
I  some  are  more  so  than  others.     When,  by  fol- 


Ser.  LXVI.] 


BY  JESUS  CHRIST. 


Ill 


lowing  the  genius  of  the  gospel,  you  examine 
for  whom  divine  justice  reserves  the  most  dread- 
ful punishments,  you  easily  conceive  it  is  for 
such  men  as  Judas,  and  you  will  agree  (with- 
out our  staying  now  to  prove  it)  that  as  Jesus 
Christ  denounced  the  worst  kind  of  punish- 
ment against  him,  so  he  doomed  him  to  suffer 
the  greatest  degree  of  tliat  kind  of  punishment. 

In  fine,  our  last  remark  on  tiie  words  of  Je- 
sus Ciirist  is,  tiiat  when  he  said,  "  it  had  been 
good  for  that  man  if  lie  had  not  been  born"  or 
"  had  ho  never  existed,"  he  supposed  not  only 
that  the  punisliment  of  Judas  did  not  exist  in 
annihilation,  but  that  it  would  not  be  in  his 
power  not  to  exist.  He  supposed  that  Judas 
was  not  master  of  his  own  existence,  and  that 
it  did  not  depend  on  him  to  continue  or  to  put 
an  end  to  it,  as  he  should  think  proper.  E.x- 
istence  considered  in  itself  is  indilierent.  We 
have  explained  in  what  sense,  and  we  have 
proved  that  it  is  the  happiness  or  misery,  which 
attends  it,  that  determines  the  worth  of  it. — 
Now,  whatever  the  pain  of  hell  may  be,  it  need 
not  alarm  us,  if  the  Creator  when  he  caused 
us  to  exist  gave  us  the  power  of  remaining  in 
it  or  quitting  it.  In  this  case  it  would  always 
depend  on  us  to  get  rid  of  punishment,  because 
it  would  depend  on  us  to  cease  to  exist,  and  we 
might  enter  into  that  state  of  annihilation 
which  we  said  was  neitiier  happy  or  misera- 
ble, but  we  have  not  this  power  over  ourselves. 
As  an  act  of  omnipotence  was  necessary  to 
give  us  existence,  so  is  it  to  deprive  us  of  it; 
and  as  it  belongs  to  none  but  Almighty  God  to 
perform  the  first  of  these  acts,  so  it  belongs 
only  to  him  to  effect  the  second;  so  absolute, 
so  entire  is  our  dependence  upon  him! 

I  do  not  know  what  is  intended  by  the  "  star" 
mentioned  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  Revelation. 
St.  John  represents  it  as  "  falling  from  heaven 
unto  the  earth,"  as  having  "  the  key  of  the 
bottomless  pit,"  as  causing  a  "  smoke  to  arise," 
by  which  the  "  sun  and  the  air  were  darkened," 
and  out  of  which  came  "locusts  upon  the 
earth."  But  I  am  persuaded,  that  in  a  system 
of  irreligion  nothing  can  be  imagined  more 
dreadful  than  the  miseries  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  here  says  these  infernal  locusts  inflict 
upon  mankind.  These  were  commanded  "  not 
to  kill,"  but  to  "  torment  five  months"  such 
men  as  "  had  not  the  seal  of  God  in  their 
foreheads."  And  "  in  those  days  shall  men 
seek  death,  and  shall  not  find  it,  and  shall  de- 
sire to  die,  and  dcatii  shall  flee  from  them.  It 
is  a  miserable  relief,  I  grant,  to  destroy  one's 
self  to  avoid  divine  punishment.  But  does 
death  put  an  end  to  our  existence?  Is  a  sinner 
less  in  the  hand  of  God  in  the  grave,  tlian  he 
is  during  this  life?  "  Whither  siiall  I  go  from 
thy  spirit?  Or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy 
presence?"  Ps.  cxxxix.  7. 

What  misery  in  t!ie  eyes  of  an  irreligious 
man  to  be  tormented  through  life,  and  to  be 
deprived  of  a  relief  which  the  wretched  almost 
always  have  in  view,  I  mean  death!  For  how 
many  ways  are  there  of  getting  rid  of  life? 
And  to  what  degree  of  impotence  must  he  be 
reduced  who  is  not  able  by  any  means  to  put 
an  end  to  life?  "  In  those  days  shall  men  seek 
death,  and  shall  not  find  it,  and  shall  desire  to 
die,  and  death  shall  flee  from  them." 

But  if  the  greatest  misery  in  the  account  of 


an  irreligious  man  be  not  to  have  the  power  of 
getting  rid  of  the  troubles  of  a  few  years  by 
destroying  himself,  what  will  be  the  state  of 
the  damned  to  see  themselves  under  a  fatal  ne- 
cessity of  existing  for  ever,  and  of  not  having 
the  power  of  terminating  their  existence,  and 
of  sinking  into  nothing?  What  despairing  and 
cruel  complaints  will  tiiis  necessity  of  existing 
cause?  In  vain  will  they  seek  refuge  in  "  dens" 
and  chasms  of  the  earth!  In  vain  will  they 
implore  "  mountains  and  rocks  to  fall  on  them 
and  hide  them!"  In  vain  will  they  "  curse  the 
day,"  and  execrate  "  the  night  of  their  birth!" 
They  will  be  obliged  to  exist,  because  Al- 
mighty God  will  refuse  them  that  act  of  om- 
nipotence, without  which  they  cannot  be  an- 
nihilated. 

Such  will  be  the  misery  of  the  damned,  and 
such  is  the  extreme  misery  to  which  Jesus 
Christ  adjudges  Judas.  But  this  man,  you 
will  say,  had  a  dark  perfidious  soul,  he  was  a 
traitor,  he  had  the  infamy  to  betray  his  Saviour, 
and  to  sell  him  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver;  this 
man  was  such  a  monster  as  nature  hardly  pro- 
duces in  many  centuries.  My  brethren,  I  am 
come  now  to  the  most  odious  but  most  neces- 
sary part  of  my  discourse.  I  must  enter  on 
the  mortifying  task  of  examining  whether  there 
be  any  resemblance  between  some  of  this  as- 
sembly and  the  unhappy  Judas.  What  a  task 
to  perform  in  such  an  auditory  as  this!  What 
a  gospel  to  preach  to  Christians!  What  mur- 
murs are  we  going  to  excite  in  this  assembly! 
"  The  word  of  the  Lord  was  made  a  reproach 
unto  me,  and  a  derision  daily.  Then  I  said,  I 
will  not  make  mention  of  him,  nor  speak  any' 
more  in  his  name.  But  his  word  was  in  mine 
heart  as  a  burning  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones, 
and  I  was  weary  with  forbearing,  and  I  could 
not  stay,"  Jer.  xx.  8,  9. 

Do  not  think  that  I  intend  to  conclude  my 
discourse  by  abusing  the  liberty  given  me  of 
speaking  in  this  pulpit,  by  attempting  to  make 
an  ingenious  essay  on  a  subject  the  most  grave 
and  solemn;  be  not  afraid  of  my  extenuating 
the  crimes  of  Judas,  and  exaggerating  yours. 
How  is  it  possible  to  extenuate  the  crimes  of 
Judas?  When  I  represent  to  myself  a  man 
whom  the  Saviour  distinguished  in  a  manner 
so  remarkable,  a  man  who  travelled  with  him, 
a  man  to  whom  he  had  not  only  revealed  the 
mysteries  of  his  kingdom,  but  whom  he  asso- 
ciated with  himself  to  teach  them  to  the  world, 
to  subvert  the  empire  of  Satan  and  set  his  cap- 
tives free,  and  to  preach  this  gospel,  "lay  not 
up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon  earth,  but  lay 
up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven,  for  where 
your  treasure  is  there  will  your  heart  be  also. 
Sell  that  you  have,  and  give  alms,  provide 
yourselves  bags  that  wax  not  old,  a  treasure  in 
the  heavens  that  faileth  not,"  Matt.  vi.  19,  &c. 
Luke  xii.  33.  When  I  consider  this  man  freely 
opening  his  lieart  to  the  demon  of  avarice,  par- 
leying with  the  most  obstinate  enemies  of  his 
divine  master,  proposing  to  deliver  him  up  to 
their  barbarity,  agreeing  on  the  price  of  trea- 
son, executing  the  horrible  stipulation,  coming 
at  the  head  of  the  most  vile  and  infanjous  mob 
that  ever  was,  giving  the  fatal  signal  to  his  un- 
worthy companions,  kissing  Jesus  Clurist,  and 
saying  while  he  saluted  him,  "hail  master;" 
when  I  consider  this  abominable  man,  far  from 


112 


THE  SENTENCE  PASSED  UPON  JUDAS 


[Skr.  LXVI. 


attempting  to  extenuate  bis  crime,  I  can  find 
no  colours  dismal  enough  to  describe  it.  No: 
I  tremble  at  the  bare  idea  of  this  monster,  and 
involuntarily  exclaim,  "  O  execrable  love  of 
money!  to  what  wilt  thou  not  impel  the  hearts 
of  men!"* 

But  does  this  odious  picture  resemble  none 
but  Judas.'  Ah!  When  I  imairiiie  a  Christian 
bom  in  this  age  of  knowledge,  a  Ciiristian 
with  the  gospel  in  his  hand,  convinced  of  the 
truth  and  beauty  of  religion,  a  Christian  com- 
municant at  the  table  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  has 
vowed  a  hundred  times  an  eternal  obedience 
to  God,  and  has  "  tasted  the  good  word  of  God, 
and  the  powers  of  tiie  world  to  come:"  when 
I  consider  this  Christian  full  of  contrivances, 
intriguing  in  certain  circles,  exposing  to  the 
world  a  spectacle  of  immodesty,  resisting  the 
ministry,  exclaiming  against  such  religious  dis- 
courses as  his  depravity  forbids  him  to  obey; 
or,  to  confine  myself  to  the  disposition  of  Ju- 
das, when  I  observe  this  Christian-like  Judas 
possessed  with  the  demon  of  avarice,  harden- 
ing his  heart  against  the  cries  of  the  wretched, 
pillaging  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  of  their 
daily  bread,  selling  his  own  soul  and  the  souls 
of  his  children  ratlier  than  break  through  a  pa- 
pal interdict,  rather  than  quit  a  country  where 
truth  is  hated  and  persecuted,  where  there  is 
no  public  worship  during  life,  no  consolations 
at  the  liour  of  death:  when  I  consider  such 
Christians,  I  protest,  I  almost  pity  Judas,  and 
turn  all  my  indignation  against  tiiem. 

My  brethren,  1  said,  and  I  repeat  it  again, 
the  task  is  mortifying,  tiie  matter  is  otiensive, 
but  I  must  come  to  it,  "  if  I  seek  to  please  men, 
I  shall  not  be  the  servant  of  Christ."  Let  us 
lay  aside  vague  ideas,  and  let  us  enter  on  some 
detail.  Let  us  describe  Judas,  but  let  us  not  for- 
get ourselves,  too  much  resembling  this  ugly 
roan.  Let  us  examine,  first,  the  passion  that 
governed  him — next,  the  crime  to  which  it  im- 
pelled him — then,  tiie  circumstances  in  which 
he  committed  it — fourthly,  the  pretexts  with 
whicii  he  covered  it — and  finally,  tiio  confes- 
sion he  was  compelled  to  make. 

1.  What  p(tssion  governed  Judas.'  Every 
one  knows  it  was  avarice.  Which  of  us  is 
given  up  to  this  passioa'  Rather  which  of  us 
is  free  from  it' 

Avarice  may  be  considered  in  two  different 
points  of  light.  It  may  be  considered  in  those 
men,  or  rather  those  public  bloodsuckers,  or, 
as  the  otlicers  of  the  Koman  emperor  Vespa- 
sian were  called,  those  sponges  of  society,  who 
infatuated  with  this  passion  seek  after  riches 
as  the  su|>reme  good,  determine  to  acquire  it 
by  any  methods,  and  consider  the  ways  that 
lead  to  wealth,  legal  or  illegal,  as  the  only  road 
for  them  to  travel.  Let  the  laws  be  violated, 
let  the  peo])lo  be  oppressed,  let  equity  be  sub- 
verted, let  a  kingdom  be  sacrificed  to  their  ir- 
resistible passion  for  wealth,  let  it  be  across  a 
thousand  depopulated  countries,  a  thousand 
ruined  families,  let  it  be  over  a  thousand  piles 
of  mangled  carcasses  tliat  they  arrive  at  for- 
tune, provided  they  can  but  acquire  it,  no  mat- 
ter what  it  costs. 

This  is  owr  first  notion  of  avarice.  But  in 
this  point  of  light  who  of  us  has  this  passion! 


'  Q,uiii  non  morUlia,  Sic,  Virg.  Maeid.  L.  3. 


Nobody,  not  one  person,  I  except  none.  I 
leave  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts  to  determine 
whether  it  be  the  vehemence  of  our  piety,  or 
the  impotence  of  our  condition,  that  prevents 
our  carrying  avarice  to  this  length;  whether  it 
be  respect  lor  the  laws  or  dread  of  them,  that 
keeps  us  from  violating  them;  whether  we  ab- 
stain from  oppressing  mankind  because  we  love, 
or  because  we  fear  them;  whether  sacrificing 
our  country  to  our  love  of  wealth  be  prevented 
by  love  to  our  country,  or  by  a  despair  of  suc- 
cess. Yes,  1  leave  the  decision  of  this  ques- 
tion to  the  Searcher  of  hearts.  I  would,  as  far 
as  I  can  without  betraying  my  ministry,  form 
the  most  favounible  judgment  of  my  hearers; 
tlierefore  I  affirm  not  one  of  us  is  avaricious  in 
this  first  sense. 

Avarice,  however,  must  be  considered  in  a 
second  point  of  light.  It  not  only  consists  in 
committing  bold  crimes,  but  in  entertaining 
mean  ideas,  and  practising  low  methods,  in- 
compatible with  such  magnanimity  as  our  con- 
dition ought  to  inspire.  It  consists  not  only  in 
an  entire  renunciation  of  the  "  kingdom  of 
God  and  the  righteousness  thereof,"  but  in  not 
"  seeking  it  first"  in  the  manner  proposed.  It 
consists  not  only  in  always  endeavouring  to  in- 
crease our  wealth,  but  in  harbouring  continual 
fears  of  losing  it,  and  perplexing  ourselves  in 
endless  methods  of  preserving  it.  It  consists 
not  only  in  wholly  withholding  from  the  poor, 
but  in  giving  through  constraint,  and  in  always 
fearing  to  give  too  much.  It  consists  not  only 
in  omitting  to  serve  God,  but  in  trying  to  asso- 
ciate the  service  of  God  with  that  of  mam- 
mon. Which  of  us  is  free  from  avarice  consi- 
dered in  this  second  point  of  light'  Strictly 
speaking,  nobody,  no,  not  one  person. 

2.  But  what  right  have  wo  to   pronounce 
that  no  one  is  defiled  with  avarice  considered 
in   the  first  point  of  light'     Let  us  consider 
this   passion   in   regard   to  the  odious  critnes 
which  it  impels  us  to  comnxjt.     Let  us  review 
the  articles  just  now  mentioned.    Are  we  guilty 
of  only  trying  to  associate  God  and  mammon.' 
And  do  we  never  lay  aside  tiie  service  of  God 
wholly,  when  it  clashes  with  that  of  mammon.' 
Are  we  guilty  of  nothing  more  than  giving 
through   constraint'    do  we   not   often   avoid 
giving  at   all?    do  we  not  always  omit  cha- 
rity, when  we  can  do  so  without  being  branded 
witii  infamy.'     Are  we  to  blame  only  for  fear- 
ing to  lose  our  wealth,  are  we  not  also  always 
occupied  about  increasing  it,  so  that  this  desire 
follows  us  every  where,  through  all  the  tumult 
of  the  day  and  all  the  silence  of  the  night, 
into  every  company,  into  private  prayer  and 
public  devotioit'     Are  we  guilty  of  only  not 
"seeking  first  the  kingdom  of  God,"  are  wo 
not  also  ready  to  renounce  it,  when  we  cannot 
enter  it  without  losing  some  of  our  wealth.' 
Are  we  guilty  of  violating  only  the  laws  of 
charity,  do  we  not  also  violate  tliose  of  equity.' 
By  what  unheard  of  secret  then  have  some  of 
us  so  rapidly  acquired  large  forlunea'     What 
sudden  revolution  then  lias  so  quickly  changed 
the  appearance  of  some  families.'     What  re- 
markable Providence  then  has  made  such  an 
extreme  difference  between  your  ancestry  and 
your  posterity?     What  motive  then  retains  so 
many  of  our  protestant  brethren  in  their  native 
country,  and  why  are  there  in  this  assembly  so 


8er.  LXVI] 


BY  JESUS  CHRIST. 


113 


many  dismembered  families?  Why  are  not 
children  with  their  parents,  and  parents  with 
their  children  in  lliis  free  country,  both  content 
to  have  their  "  lives  for  a  prey?"  Ah!  my 
brethren,  what  a  scandalous  history  is  that  of 
Judas!  What  a  horrible  crime  did  his  avarice 
impel  him  to  commit!  And  also  what  a  sad 
resemblance  is  there  between  that  wretch  and 
some  Christians,  who  profess  to  abhor  him! 

3.  As  the  avarice  of  Jud.as  appears  odious 
considered  in  itself,  and  more  so  considered  in 
regard  to  the  crime  he  conunitted  throntjh  il, 
BO  it  will  appear  more  oflensive  still,  if  you 
consider  it  in  view  of  tiio  circumstances  in 
which  he  was  when  he  gave  himself  up  to  it: 
for  how  far  soever  the  wickedest  of  men  be 
from  the  ])ractice  of  some  virtues,  there  are 
occasions  on  which  they  seem  to  turn  their  at- 
tention to  them.  The  most  barbarous  souls 
cannot  help  relenting,  when  they  see  the  ob- 
jects of  their  hatred  reduced  to  extreme  misery. 
Hearts  the  most  lukewarm  towards  religion, 
feel,  I  know  not  what  emotions  of  piety,  when 
religion  is  e.xhibited  in  some  eminent  point  of 
light,  and  when  the  love  of  God  to  his  crea- 
tures, and  his  compassion  for  sinners,  are  de- 
scribed in  lively  colours. 

On  this  principle,  what  opinion  must  we 
form  of  Judas?  What  a  time  did  he  choose  to 
betray  his  master  to  his  enemies,  and  to  give 
himself  up  to  Satan?  Jesus  Christ  was  eating 
the  passover  with  his  disciples,  and  telling 
them,  "with  desire  I  have  desired  to  eat  this 
passover  with  you  before  I  suffer."  Jesus 
Christ  was  taking  leave  of  his  disciples  at  a 
love-feast,  and  going,  as  soon  as  the  company 
broke  up,  to  substantiate  the  shadow  exhibited 
in  the  paschal  supper,  by  offering  himself  in 
their  stead  a  sacrifice  for  sin.  Judas  partook 
of  this  paschal  lamb,  and  sat  at  the  table  with 
Jesus  Christ  at  this  feast  of  love,  yet  in  these 
circumstances  so  proper  to  eradicate  avarice, 
at  least  to  suspend  the  growth  of  it,  it  became 
more  vigorous,  and  ripened  in  his  unworthy 
soul. 

My  brethren,  when  we  judge  our  own  hearts, 
let  us  keep  this  principle  in  view.  A  passion 
hateful  in  itself,  and  hateful  on  account  of  the 
crimes  it  makes  us  commit,  may  become  more 
so  by  circumstances.  What  is  an  innocent 
freedom  in  some  circumstances  may  become 
licentiousness  in  other  circumstances,  and  as 
circumstances  alter,  what  is  licentious  may  be- 
come a  great  crime;  and  thus  an  innocent  free- 
dom, at  most  an  act  of  licentiousness,  at  most 
a  crime,  may  become  an  atrocious  outrage, 
and  unpardonable  on  account  of  circumstances 
in  which  it  was  committed.  This  maxim  is 
self-evident,  it  is  an  axiom  of  morality. 

O  God,  Judge  of  the  whole  earth,  do  not 
pass  sentence  on  this  assembly  according  to  the 
rigour  of  this  maxim!  This  is  passion  week, 
and  we  are  in  circumstances,  in  which  Jesus 
Christ  most  powerfully  attacks  our  vices.  You 
need  not  be  a  saint  to  have  emotions  of  piety 
in  these  circumstances,  it  is  sufficient  to  be  a 
man;  but  you  must  be  a  monster,  a  disciple  of 
Judas,  to  have  none.  To  hate  in  these  circum- 
stances, to  hate  when  Jesus  Christ  loves,  and 
while  ho  is  saying  of  his  e-xecutioncrs,  "  Fa- 
ther, forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do."   To  shut  our  hearts  against  the  cries 

Vol.  IL— 16 


of  our  wretched  fellow-creatures,  while  Jesus 
Christ  is  pouring  out  his  blood,  his  life,  his 
-soul  for  poor  mortals;  to  give  ourselves  up  to 
W(jrldly  pleasures,  while  nothing  is  treated  of 
among  us  but  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ, 
while  he  is  represented  as  sweating  great  drops 
of  blood,  contending  with  divine  justice,  fas- 
tened to  a  cross,  and  uttering  these  lamentable 
complaints,  "  my  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful, 
very  heavy,  sorrowful  even  unto  death.  O 
my  Father,  if  it  be  possible  let  this  cup  pass 
from  me!  My  God!  ray  God!  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me!"  At  such  a  time,  and  in  such  cir- 
cunislanres,  to  pursue  worldly  pleasures  .... 
My  bretlircn,  finish  this  article  yourselves,  and 
pronoimce  your  own  sentences. 

4.  Consider  the  pretexts  with  which  Judas 
covered  his  avarice.  One  of  the  principal 
causes  of  our  indignation  at  the  irregularities 
of  our  neighbours,  and  our  indulgence  for  our 
own  is,  that  we  see  the  first  without  the  colour- 
ings, which  they  who  commit  them  make  use 
of  to  conceal  their  turpitude  from  themselves, 
whereas  we  always  consider  our  own  through 
such  mediums  as  decorate  and  disguise  them. 
Now  as  we  palliate  our  own  passions,  we  ought 
to  believe  tiiat  other  people  palliate  theirs. 

Who  can  imagine  that  Judas  considered  his 
crime  in  its  own  real  horrid  colours?  Can  any 
body  suppose  that  he  said  to  himself,  "  1  am 
determined  lo  violate  the  most  solemn  obliga- 
tions for  thirty  pieces  of  silver;  I  am  resolved 
to  betray  the  Saviour  of  the  world  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver:  I  would  rather  see  him  cruci- 
fied than  be  deprived  of  this  unworthy  price 
of  treason:  this  contemptible  reward  I  prefer 
before  all  the  joys  of  heaven?"  No,  no,  Judaa 
did  not  reason  thus.  Judge  what  he  did  on 
this  occasion  by  what  he  did  on  another.  A 
woman  poured  a  box  of  costly  ointment  on  the 
feet  of  Jesus  Christ;  Judas  was  hurt  to  see  this 
prey  escape  his  avarice,  he  therefore  covered 
the  sordid  disposition  of  his  soul,  with  the 
goodly  pretence  of  charity,  "  this  ointment 
might  have  been  sold  for  three  hundred  pence, 
and  given  to  the  poor,"  John  xii.  4 — 6.  Thus 
in  the  present  case,  "  perhaps  Jesus  Christ  will 
escape  from  his  enemies,  as  he  has  often  done 
before.  Perhaps  his  looks  will  deter  them. 
Perhaps  he  will  fell  them  to  the  earth  with  his 
power.  Perhaps  the  angels  of  heaven  will 
surround,  protect,  and  defend  him.  Perhaps  I 
myself  shall  contribute  to  save  the  world  by 
otlering  the  sacrifice  that  is  to  procure  salva- 
tion. Perhaps  too,  I  may  have  formed  ideas 
too  high  of  this  Jesus.  Perhaps  God  does  not 
interest  himself  in  his  preservation,  as  I  have 
hitherto  supposed.  Perhaps  he  has  assumed  a 
character  which  does  not  belong  to  him,  and  is 
nothing  but  a  phantom  of  Messiah.  (Who 
can  tell  what  extravagant  reasonings  may  be 
formed  by  a  mind  given  up  to  a  passion,  and 
determined  to  justify  it')  Afler  all,  should  I 
add  one  more  crime  to  what  I  have  already 
committed,  the  number  will  not  be  so  very 
great.  The  blood  I  am  going  to  assist  in  shed- 
ding, will  obtain  my  pardon  for  contributing  to 
shed  it.  And  1  cannot  persuade  myself  that  a 
Saviour,  who  came  into  the  world  on  purpose 
to  publish  a  general  pardon  to  all  sinners,  will 
choose  to  make  an  exception  Eigainst  me, 
alone." 


114 


fUE  SENTENCE  PASSED  UPON  JUDAS 


[Ser.  LXVI. 


Bretliron,  is  this  wmrce  of  sophistry  closfid 
in  reirarti  to  voti?  If  I  may  venture  to  speak 
so,  (lid  the  lo<,'i<'  of  your  ])it!:siuns  p.\j>irn  wlit-u 
Judas  died?  Which  of  us  is  not,  so  to  speak, 
two  dillbrent,  yea  o])posito  men  according  to 
the  ai^itation  of  our  spirits,  and  tljc  dominion 
of  our  passions?  Lnt  any  one  of  us  in:  consult- 
ed foncernin<j  a  crime  wliich  we  have  no  in- 
terest in  fomniittiniT  or  palliatiii'.'',  and  we  sliall 
talk  of  nothing  but  C(iuity,  rectitude,  and  re- 
ligion; hut  let  us  he  rjucstioned  concerning  the 
same  crime  when  we  liavc  s(jmc  i)iterest  in  the 
commission  of  it,  and  behold!  anotlier  lan- 
gu.'ige,  another  morality,  another  religion,  or 
to  say  all  in  one  word,  behold  aiioliier  man. 

To  come  to  the  point,  under  what  pretext 
does  not  avarice  conceal  itself?     How  many 
forms  does  it  take  to  disguise  itself  from  the 
man    who   is  guilty   of  it,   and    who   will   be 
drenched  in  the  guilt  of  it  till  the  day  he  dies! 
Sometimes  it  is  prudence,  which  requires  him 
to  provide  not  only  for  his  present  wants,  but 
for  such  as  he  may  have  in  future.    Sometimes 
it  is  charity,  which  re(piires  him  not  to  give 
society  examples  of  jinxligality  and  parade. 
Sometimes  it  is  parental  love,  obliging  him  to 
save  something  for  his  children.     Sometimes  it 
is  circumspection,  which  requires  him  not  to 
supply  people  who  make  an  ill   use  of  what 
they  get.     Sometimes   it  is  necessity,   which 
obliges  him  to  repel  artilii-e  by  artifice.    Some- 
times it  is  good  conscience,  which  convinces 
him,  good  man,  that  he  has  already  exceeded 
in  compassion  ;iiid  alms-giving,  and  done  too 
much.     Sometimes  it  is  equity,  for  justice  re- 
quires that  every  one  should  enjoy  the  fruit  of 
his  own  labours,'  and  those  of  his  ancestors. 
Sometimes  it  is  incom]n'lonce,  perhajis  indeed 
a  little  part  of  my  wealth  may  be  subject  to 
some  scruples,  for  who  can  assure  himself  that 
every  farthing  of  his  fortune  has  been  acquired 
with  the  most  strict  regard  to  evangelical  rec- 
titude, but  then  I  cannot  tell  to  whom  this  res- 
titution should  be  made,  and  till  that  is  made, 
justice  is  not  satislied,  there  is  no  room  for 

generosity.     Sometimes what  am    I 

about?  who  can  make  a  complete  list  of  all  the 
pretences  with  which  a  miser  disguises  himself 
in  his  own  eyes,  and  imagines  he  can  disguise 
himself  in  the  eyes  of  otliers! 

5.  Finally,  let  us  consider  the  cotifession 
which  the  truth  forced  from  .]udas,  in  spite  of 
his  reigning  passion,  and  in  tiie  same  article, 
let  us  observe  the  remorse  insjiired  by  his  pas- 
sion, and  the  reparation  his  remor.se  com|)clled 
him  to  make.  Presently  I  sec  the  unhaj)py 
■hidas  recover  himself  from  his  infatuation. 
Presently  he  sees  through  the  pretexts,  which 
for  a  while  disguised  his  pa.ssion,  and  concealed 
the  horror  of  the  crime  ho  Wius  going  to  com- 
mit. I'resently  I  hear  him  say,  "  1  have  sinned 
in  that  I  have  betrayed  innoccint  blood,"  INIatt. 
xxvii.  4.  See,  he  hates  the  abominable  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  the  charm  of  which  had  allured 
liim  to  commit  the  blackest  crime,  and  to 
plunge  himself  into  the  deepest  wo;  sec,  he 
casts  down  the  pieces  of  silver  at  the  feot  of 
those  of  whom  he  riîc(-ived  them. 

(Christians,  blush!  Here  the  compari.son  of 
Judas  witli  S(jmo  (bristians  is  greatly  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  latter.  I  am  aware,  that 
the  confesttion  of  JuUius  was  not  saiictihed  by 


faith,  and  that  the  restitution  proceeded  more 
from  despair  than  true  repentance;  however, 
he  did  repent,  he  did  say,  "  I  have  sinned," 
arnl  he  did  restore  the  thirty  jueces  of  silver, 
which  he  had  so  h;usely  acquired. 

But  where  are  the  Christians  who  repent 
of  the  extortions  of  which   their  avarice  has 
caused  them  to  be  guilty?  Where  are  Christians 
saying,  "  I  have  siimedr"    Particularly,  where 
are  those  Christians,  who  have  made  restitu- 
tion?    it  is  said  there  are  some.     I  believe  so, 
because  credible  people  alFirm  it.    But  I  declare 
solemnly,  I   have  never  seen  one,  and  yet  I 
have  seen  many  people,  whose  hands  were  de- 
fded  with  the  accursed  thing,  whose  magnitî- 
ccnce  and  pomp  were  the  fruit  of  the  cursed 
thing.     Extortioners  of  this  kind  have  I  never 
seen,  I  have  never  seen  one  of  them  repenting, 
and  saying,  "  indeed  I  have  sinned,  and  thus 
and  thus  have  1  done."     1  have  never  seen 
one,  who  has  not  invented  as  many  pretexts  to 
I  keep  his  ill-gotten  wealth  as  he  Iwd  invented 
to  get  it.     In  one  word,  I  never  saw  one  who 
understood,  or  was  willing  to  learn  the  elements 
of  Christian  morality  on  the  doctrine  of  resti- 
tution.    How  rare  soever  the  conversion  of 
siimers  of  other  kinds  may  be,  thanks  to  divine 
•mercy,  we  have  sometimes  seen  edifying  ex- 
amples of  such  conversions.     We  have  scci» 
voluptuous  people  groan  at  tl«!  recollection  of 
their  former  debaucheries,  effare  the  dissipa- 
tions of  their  youth  by  the  penitential  grief, 
and  pious  actions  of  their  mature  age,  and  affix 
that  body  in  a  mortal  illness  to  the  cross  of 
Christ,  which,  during  health  and  strength  they 
had  devoted  to  luxury.     We  have  seen  assas- 
sins ready,  if  it  were  possible,  to  replace  the 
blood  they  had  shed  with  their  own.     We  have 
seen  vindictive  jjeople  end)race  inveterate  ene- 
mies, and  cover  them  with  atlectionate  tears. 
But  among  that  great  number  of  dying  people, 
who,  we  know  with  tiie  utmost  certainty,  had 
become   rich   by  oblique   means;    among  the 
great  number  of  soldiers  and  ofKcers,  who  hud 
robbed,    plundered,    and    sacked;    among   the 
great   nunil)er   of  merchants   and    tradesmen 
who   had    been    gj'ilty   of   falsehood,    deceit, 
cheating,  and  perjury,  and  who  by  such  means 
had  ac(iuired  a  splendid  fortune;  among  all  this 
great  number,   we  have  never  seen  one  who 
had  the  resolution  to  a.sseml)Ie  his  family  rouud 
his  dying  bed,  and  take  bis  leave  of  them  in 
tliis  manner:  "  My  dear  children,  1  have  been 
a  scandal  to  you  through  life,  I  will  now  edify 
you  by  my  death.     I  am  determined  in  these 
last  moments  of  my  life  to  give  glory  to  (Jod 
by  acknowle<lging  my  past  transgressions.  The 
gr(!alest  i)art  of  my  fortune  was  ac<iuired  by 
artful  and  wicked  means.  These  elegant  apart- 
ments are  furnished  witii  my  oaths  and  perju- 
ries.    This  strong  and  well-fmished  house  is 
founded  on  my  treachery.     My  sumptuous  and 
fiisliionable  ecpiipage  is  the  produce  of  my  ex- 
tortions.    But   I   re|>cnt  now  of  my   sins.     I 
make  restitution  to  church  and  state,  to  the 
public  and  indivitluals.     I  choose  rather  to  be- 
queatli   |)(jverty  to  you,  than  to  leave  you  a 
patrimony  under  a  curse.    You  will  gain  more 
iiy  the  cxamijle  1  giv(!  you  of  re|)entance,  than 
you  will  by  all  my  unjust  acijuisitions."     An 
age,  a  whole  century,  does  it  furnish  one  sucl» 
example? 


Ser.  LXVII.] 


THE  CAUSE  OF  TFIE  DESTRUCTION,  &c. 


115 


Such  is  tlic  fare  of  mankind!  Siif^li  tlio  con- 
dition of  the  «■hurrii!  And  what  drnndfiil  dis- 
coveries shiiidd  wo  now  make,  foiild  wi;  look 
into  futurity  as  v.-.isWy  as  wo  can  cxaiiiliKi  the 
present  and  the;  past!  \Vh(!n  Josiis  Christ,  tliat 
good  master,  uttered  this  painful  prophecy  to 
liis family  siltingf  round  him,  "  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  one  of  you  shall  betray  me,"  all  his  disci- 
ples were  cxceedinç  sorrowful,  and  every  one 
said  unto  him,  "Lord,  is  it  I?"  }{ow  many 
sul)jects  for  grief  would  rise  to  view,  should  (Jod 
draw  aside  the  veil  tliat  hides  the  destiny  of  ail 
tWs  assembly,  ami  show  us  the  bottomless  abyss 
into  which  the  love  of  money  will  plunjre  many 
who  are  present. 

[jCt  us  prevent  this  ijrcat  evil.  Let  us  purify 
the  S|)ring  from  whence  our  actions  and  their 
ronseqirenccs  flow.  liCt  us  examine  this  idol, 
to  which  we  sacrifice  our  all.  Judge  of  the 
value  of  the  riches  in  pursuit  of  which  wo  are 
so  eager,  by  the  brevity  of  life.  The  !)est  course 
of  moral  instructioi  against  the  pas.«ions,  is 
death.  The  grave  is  a  discoverer  of  the  ab- 
surdity of  sin  of  every  kind.  There  the  am- 
bitious may  learn  the  folly  of  ambition.  There 
the  vain  may  learn  tlio  vanity  of  all  human 
tilings.  There  the  voluptuous  may  read  a  mor- 
tifying lesson  on  the  absurdity  of  sensual  plea- 
sure. But  this  school,  fruitful  in  instructions 
that  concern  all  the  passions,  is  profusely  elo- 
quent against  avarice. 


si':rm()n  LXVII. 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  DESTRUCTION 

OF  IMPENITENT  SINNERS. 


of  Constantino  the  Great.  In  order  to  reclaim 
a  miser,  he  took  a  lance  and  marked  out  a  space 
of  ground  of  the  size  of  a  human  body,  and  told 
him,  "add  heap  to  heap,  accumulate  riches 
upon  riches,  extend  the  bounds  of  your  pos- 
sessions, conquer  the  whole  world,  in  a  few 
days,  such  a  spot  as  this  will  be  all  you  will 
have."  I  take  this  spear,  my  brethren,  I  mark 
out  this  space  among  you,  in  a  few  days  you 
will  be  worth  no  more  than  this.  Go  to  tiie 
tomb  of  the  avaricious  man,  go  down  and  see 
his  coflm  and  his  shroud,  in  four  days  these  will 
be  all  you  will  have. 

I  conclude,  and  J.  only  add  one  word  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Our  divine  Saviour  describes  a  man 
revolving  in  his  mind  great  projects,  thinking 
of  nothing  but  pulling  down  and  rebuilding, 
dying  the  same  night,  void,  destitute,  miserable, 
and  terrified  at  seeing  all  his  fancied  projects 
of  felicity  vanish;  on  which  our  Lord  makes  this 
reflection,  "  so  is  every  one  who  laycth  up  trea- 
sure for  himself  and  is  not  rich  towards  God," 
l^uke  xii.  ii  1.  My  God!  how  poor  is  he,  though 
among  piles  of  gold  and  silver,  amidst  all  riches 
and  j)lenty,  who  is  not  rich  towards  God!  On 
the  contrary,  how  enviable  is  the  condition  of 
a  man  hungry,  indigent,  and  wraj)ped  in  rags, 
if  he  be  rich  towards  God!  Rich  men!  This  is 
the  only  way  to  sanctify  your  riches.  Be  rich 
towards  God.  Ye  j)Oor  people,  this  is  all  vou 
want  to  support  you  under  poverty,  and  to  en- 
able you  to  triumph  even  in  your  indigence. 
May  we  be  all  rich  towards  God!  Let  us  all 
accunmlate  a  treasure  of  good  works,  it  is  the 
most  substantial  wealth,  and  that  only  which 
will  yield  a  bountiful  harvest  at  last.  "  There 
be  many  that  say,  Who  wilj  show  us  any  good? 
Lord,  lift  thou  uj)  the  light  of  thy  countenance 
upon  us.  Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart, 
more  than  in  the  time  that  their  corn  and  their 
wine  increased,"  Ps.  iv.  6,  7.     Amen. 


HosEA  xiii.  9. 

0  Israrl,  thou  hast  dcstroijcil  thyself,  hut  in  ine  is 

thine  help. 

TiiF.sF,  words  arc  so  concise  in  the  Hebrew 
text  that  no  distinct  idea  can  be  atlixed  to  them, 
uiil(;ss  we  sujtply  something.  All  expositors 
allow  this.  The  only  ipiestion  is,  what  word 
ought  to  be  8up[)lied  to  express  the  prophet's 
m(!aning. 

Some  supply,  "  thine  idols,  or  thy  calves, 
have  destroyed  thee:"  and  by  these  they  under- 
stand the  images  which  Jeroboam  placed  at 
Samaria  to  prevent  the  ten  tribes,  who  had  re- 
volted under  his  direction  from  the  government 
of  Rehoboam,  from  returning  to  that  prince,  as 
prol)ably  they  might  have  been  tem|)ted  to  do, 
had  they  gone  to  worship  the  true  God  at  Je- 
rusalem. 

Others  supply,  "thy  king  hath  destroyed 
thee,  O  Israel,"  meaning  Jerob<jam,  who  had 
led  the  [)eoplc  of  Israel  into  idolatry. 

But  not  to  trouble  you  with  a  list  of  the  va- 
rious opinions  of  expositors,  I  shall  content  my- 
I  recollect  an  anecdote  i  self  with  observing  that  which  I  think  best 


founded,  that  is,  the  sense  given  by  the  ancient 
Latin  version.  Thy  destruction  is  of  thyself,  O 
Israel,  or,  Thou  art  the  author  of  thine  own 
ruin.  This  translation  which  supplies  less  to 
the  original,  is  also  perfectly  agreeable  to  the 
idiom  of  the  Hebrew  language.  With  this  the 
version  of  our  churches  agrees,  "  thou  hast  de- 
stroyed thyself,  or  thou  art  destroyed,"  which 
is  nnich  the  same,  because  others  cannot  destroy 
us  unless  we  contribute  by  our  negligence  to 
our  own  destruction.  This  translation  too  is 
connected  with  what  precedes,  and  what  fol- 
lows, and  in  general  with  the  chief  design  of 
our  projjhet.  ^• 

This  chief  design  is  very  observable  in  most 
chapters  of  this  projjhecy.     it  is  evident,  the 
prophet  intended  to  convince  the  Israelites,  that 
God  had  discovered  in  all  his  dispensations,  a 
desire  to  fix  them  in  his  service,  to  lead  them 
to  felicity  by  the  path  of  virtue,  and  that  they 
ought  to  blame  none  but  themselves  if  judir- 
mcnts  from  heaven  should  overwhelm  them, 
giving  them  up  to  the  As.syrians  in  this  life,  and 
to  punishment  after  death.    This  design  seema 
to  me  most  fully  discovered  in  the  latter  part 
of  this  chapter,  a  few  verses  after  the  te.xt,  "  I 
will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the  grave; 
I  will  redeem  them  from  death.     O  death,  I 
will  be  tiiy  plagues;  O  grave,  I  will  be  thy  de- 
struction."    You  know,  my  brethren,  St.  Paul 
informs  us  that  this  [jromise  will  not  be  accom- 
plished   till   after    the    general    resurrection; 
"  Then  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that 
is  written.  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory. 
O  death  where  is  thy  sting?     O  grave,  where 
is  thy  victory'"     But,  adds  our  prophet,  "  Sa- 
maria shall  become  desolate,  for  she  hath  re- 
belled against  her  God."    'i'lic  text  is  therefore 
connected  with  the  foregoing  and  following 
words  according  to  this  translation,  "  O  Israel, 
thou  hast  destroyed  thysell"." 


119 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  DESTRUCTION 


[Ser.  Lxvn. 


I  class  the  text  then  among  tliose  passages 
of  Scripture  in  which  God  condescends  to  exo- 
nerate his  conduct  in  regard  to  sinners  by  de- 
claring, that  they  ought  to  take  the  whole 
blame  of  tiieir  own  destruction  on  themselves: 
and  in  this  point  of  view  1  am  going  to  consider 
it.  The  difficulties  of  this  subject  chiefly  pro- 
ceed from  tiiree  causes,  either  from  our  notion 
of  the  nature  of  God — or  the  nature  of  religion 
— or  the  nature  of  man.  We  will  examine 
these  difficulties,  and  endeavour  to  remove 
them  in  the  remaining  part  of  this  discourse. 

I.  "O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself." 
The  first  difliculties  that  seem  to  belong  to  this 
truth,  are  taken  from  the  nature  of  God,  who, 
having  created  nothing  of  which  he  had  not  an 
idea  before,  and  having  realized  no  idea,  alltiie 
consequences  of  which  he  had  not  foreseen,  is 
the  author  not  only  of  every  being  tliat  exists, 
but  also  of  every  thing  that  results  from  their 
existence,  and  seems  for  this  very  reason  the 
only  cause  of  the  miseries  of  his  creatures. 

It  is  much  to  be  wished,  my  brethren,  that 
mankind  were  so  apprised  of  the  narrow  limits 
of  their  own  understanding,  as  not  to  plunge 
themselves  into  some  deep  subjects  which  they 
are  incapable  of  fathoming,  and  so  as  to  attri- 
bute to  their  natural  incapacity,  their  incom- 
petency to  answer  some  objections  against  the 
perfections  of  God.  Some  pagans  have  been 
more  aware  of  this  than  many  Christians;  and 
the  Persians,  followers  of  Mohammed,  have 
endeavoured  to  make  their  disciples  compre- 
hend it  by  an  ingenious  fable. 

"  There  were,  say  they,  three  brethren,  who 
all  died  at  the  same  time;  the  two  first  were  far 
advanced  in  age;  the  elder  had  always  lived  in 
a  habit  of  obedience  to  God:  the  second,  on  the 
contrary,  in  a  course  of  disobedience  and  sin; 
and  the  third  was  an  infant,  incapable  of  dis- 
tinguishing good  from  evil.  These  tiiree  bro- 
thers appeared  before  the  tribunal  of  God;  the 
first  was  received  into  paradise,  the  second  was 
condemned  to  hell,  the  third  was  sent  to  a  mid- 
dle place,  where  there  was  neither  pleasure  nor 
pain,  because  he  had  not  done  eitlier  good  or 
evil.  When  this  youngest  Jieard  his  sentence, 
and  the  reasons  on  which  the  Supreme  Judge 
grounded  it,  sorry  to  be  excluded  from  para- 
dise, he  exclaimed.  Ah,  Lord!  hadst  thou  pre- 
served my  life  as  thou  didst  that  of  my  good 
brother,  how  much  better  would  it  have  been 
for  me?  I  should  have  lived  as  he  did,  and  then 
I  should  have  enjoyed  as  he  docs  the  happiness 
of  eternal  glory!  My  child,  replied  God  to  him, 
I  knew  thee,  and  I  knew  hadst  thou  lived  longer 
thou  wouldst  have  lived  like  thy  wicked  bro- 
ther, and  like  him  wouldst  have  rendered  thy- 
self deserving  of  the  punishment  of  hell.  The 
condemned  brother  hearing  this  discourse  of 
God,  exclaimed,  Ah  Lord!  why  didst  thou  not 
then  confer  the  same  favour  upon  me  as  upon 
my  younger  brother,  by  depriving  me  of  a  life 
which  I  have  so  wickedly  misspent  as  to  brinjr 
myself  under  a  sentence  of  condemnation?  I 
preserved  thy  life,  said  God,  to  give  thee  an 
opportunity  of  saving  thyself.  The  younger 
brother,  hearing  this  reply,  exclaimed  again. 
Ah!  why  then,  my  God,  didst  thou  not  preserve 
my  life  also,  that  I  might  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  saving  myself?    God,  to  put  an  end 


to  complaining  and  disputing,  replied,  becanse 
my  decree  had  determined  otherwise."* 

Were  I  to  follow  my  own  inclination,  I  should 
imitate  this  cautious  reserve;  but  as  silence  on 
this  subject  is  sometimes  an  occasion  of  ima- 
ginary triumph  to  the  enemies  of  religion,  and 
as  it  sometimes  causes  scruples  in  weak  con- 
sciences, I  think  it  absolutely  necessary  to  say 
something  towards  removing  this  objection; 
and  to  prove,  at  least,  that  tliough  we  are  in- 
capable of  fully  satisfying  ourselves  on  thw 
subject,  yet  there  is  nothing  in  this  incompe- 
tency favourable  to  the  insults  of  infidels,  or 
the  doubts  and  fears  of  the  scrupulous. 

Now,  my  brethren,  it  seems  to  me,  we  cannot 
possibly  imagine  any  more  than  two  ways  to 
satisfy  ourselves  on  this  subject:  the  one  is  to 
obtain  a  complete  idea  of  the  decrees  of  God, 
and  to  compare  them  so  exactly  with  the  dis- 
position of  sinners  as  to  make  it  evident  by  this 
comparison,  that  sinners  are  not  under  a  ne- 
cessity of  committing  such  crimes  as  cause  their 
eternal  destruction.  The  second  is,  to  refer  the 
subject  to  the  determination  of  a  being  of  the 
most  unsuspected  knowledge  and  veracity, 
whose  testimony  we  may  persuade  ourselves  is 
unexceptionable,  and  whoso  declaration  is  an 
infallible  oracle. 

The  first  of  these  ways  is  impracticable.  To 
be  able  to  demonstrate,  by  an  exact  comparison 
of  the  decrees  of  God  with  the  nature  of  man, 
that  sinners  are  not  necessitated  to  commit  such 
crimes  as  cause  their  eternal  destruction,  is,  in 
my  opinion,  a  work  more  than  human.  Many 
have  attempted  it,  but  though  we  ccinnot  refuse 
the  praise  due  to  their  piety,  yet,  it  should 
seem,  we  owe  this  testimony  to  truth,  that  they 
have  not  removed  all  the  objections  to  which 
the  subject  is  liable. 

I  say  more,  I  venture  to  predict,  without 
pretending  to  be  a  prophet,  that  all  future 
efforts  will  be  equally  unsuccessful.  The  rea- 
son is,  because  it  is  an  attempt  to  infer  conse- 
quences from  principles  unknown.  Who  can 
boast  of  knowing  the  whole  arrangement,  all 
the  extent,  and  all  the  combinations  of  the  de- 
crees of  God?  The  depth  of  these  decrees,  the 
obscure  manner  in  which  the  Scripture  expres- 
ses them,  and  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  so, 
the  darkness  in  which  attempts  to  elucidate 
them  have  involved  them,  place  them  infinitely 
beyond  our  reach.  As  this  method  has  been 
impracticable  to  this  day,  probably  it  will  con- 
tinue so  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

Let  us  try  the  second.  The  question  is, 
whether,  allowing  the  decrees  of  God,  God  does 
any  violence  to  siimers,  compelling  them  to 
commit  sia'  Has  not  tliis  question  been  fully 
answered  by  a  Being,  whose  decisions  are  in- 
fallible oracles,  and  of  whose  testimony  we 
cannot  possibly  form  any  reasonable  doubt' 
Yes,  my  brethren,  we  know  such  a  Being;  we 
know  a  Being  infinitely  capable  of  deciding 
this  question,  and  who  has  actually  decided  it. 
This  Being  is  God  himself 

To  explain  our  meaning,  and  to  show  the 
connexion  of  the  answer  with  the  question,  I 
will  suppose  you  to  put  up  this  petition  to  God. 
— Does  the  eternal  destination,  which  thou 

*  Voyag.  de  M.  Chardin,  torn.  vii.  p.  33. 


Skr.  LXVIL] 


OF  IMPENITENT  SINNERS. 


117 


hast  made  of  my  soul  before  I  had  a  being, 
force  my  will?  do  what  they  call  predestination 
and  reprobation  in  the  schools  destroy  this  pro- 
position, that  if  I  perish,  my  destruction  pro- 
ceeds alone  from  myself?  My  God,  remove  this 
difficulty,  and  lay  open  to  me  this  important 
truth.  I  suppose,  my  brethren,  you  have  pre- 
sented this  question,  and  that  God  answers  in 
the  following'  manner:  The  frailty  of  your 
minds  renders  this  matter  incomprehensible  to 
you.  It  is  impossible  for  men  finite  as  you  are 
to  comprehend  the  whole  extent  of  my  decrees, 
and  to  see  in  a  clear  and  distinct  manner  the 
influence  they  have  on  the  destiny  of  man:  But 
I  who  formed  them  perfectly  understand  them. 
I  am  truth  itself,  as  I  am  wisdom.  I  do  de- 
clare to  you  then,  that  none  of  my  decrees  offer 
violence  to  my  creatures,  and  that^our  destruc- 
tion can  proceed  from  none  but  yourselves. 
As  to  the  rest,  you  shall  one  day  perfectly 
understand  what  you  now  understand  only  in 
part,  and  then  you  shall  see  with  your  own 
eyes  what  you  now  see  only  with  mine.  Cease 
then  to  anticipate  a  period,  which  my  wisdom 
defers,  and  laying  aside  this  speculation  attend 
you  to  practice,  fully  persuaded  that  you  are 
placed  between  reward  and  punishment,  and 
may  have  a  part  in  which  you  please.  Is  it 
not  true,  my  brethren,  that  if  God  had  answer- 
ed in  this  manner,  it  would  be  carrying,  I  do 
not  say  rashness,  but  insolence  to  the  highest 
degree  to  object  against  the  testimony,  or  to 
desire  more  light  into  this  subject  at  present-' 
Now,  my  brethren,  we  pretend  that  God  lias 
given  this  answer,  and  in  a  manner  infinitely 
more  clear  than  we  have  stated  it. 

He  has  given  this  answer  in  those  pathetical 
expostulations,  in  those  powerful  applications, 
and  in  those  exhortations,  which  he  employs  to 
reclaim  the  greatest  sinners.  Now  if  the  de- 
crees of  God  forced  sinners,  if  they  did  violence 
to  their  liberty,  would  the  equity  of  God  allow 
him  to  call  men  out  of  bondage,  while  he  him- 
self confined  them  in  chains? 

God  has  given  this  answer  by  tender  com- 
plaints concerning  the  depravity  of  mankind; 
yea,  by  tears  of  love  shed  for  their  miseries. 
"  O  that  my  people  had  hearkened  unto  me! 
O  that  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least 
in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto 
thy  peace!"  Ps.  Ixxxi.  14,  Luke  -xix.  42.  Now 
if  the  decrees  of  God  force  sinners,  if  they 
offer  violence  to  their  liberty,  I  am  not  afraid 
to  say,  this  sort  of  language  would  be  a  sport 
unworthy  of  the  divine  majesty. 

He  has  given  this  answer  by  express  assu- 
rances, that  he  would  have  all  men  to  be  saved; 
that  "  he  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked,  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way 
and  live;"  that  he  is  not  willing  that  any  should 
perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance. 
Now  if  the  decrees  of  God  force  sinners,  and 
do  violence  to  their  liberty,  contrary  propositions 
are  true;  it  would  be  proper  to  say,  G-od  will 
not  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  he  will  not  have 
the  sinner  come  to  repentance,  he  is  determined 
the  sinner  shall  die. 

He  has  published  this  answer  by  giving  us 
high  ideas  of  his  mercy;  when  he  prolongs  the 
time  of  his  patience  and  long-sufiering,  he  calls 
it  "  riches  of  goodness,  forbearance,  and  long- 
suffering.''    Now  if  the  decrees  of  God  force 


sinners,  if  they  offer  violence  to  their  liberty, 
God  would  not  be  more  merciful,  if  he  grants 
fourscore  years  to  a  wicked  man  to  repent  in, 
than  if  he  took  him  away  suddenly  on  the  com- 
mission of  his  first  sin. 

lie  has  given  this  answer  expressly  in.  the 
text,  and  in  many  otiier  parallel  passages,  where 
he  clearly  tells  us,  that  after  what  he  has  done 
to  save  us,  there  are  no  difliculties  insurmount- 
able in  our  salvation,  except  such  as  we  choose 
to  put  there.  For  if  the  divine  decrees  force 
men  to  sin,  and  offer  violence  to  their  liberty, 
the  proposition  in  the  text  would  be  utterly 
false,  and  the  prophet  could  not  say  on  the 
part  of  God,  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed 
thyself." 

As  the  first  way  of  removing  our  difficulties 
is  absolutely  impossible,  the  second  is  fully 
open.  God  has  not  thought  proper  to  give  us 
a  distinct  idea  of  the  connexion  between  his 
decrees  and  the  liberty  of  sinners:  but  he  has 
openly  declared  that  they  do  not  clash  together. 
Let  us  make  no  more  vain  efforts  to  explain 
mysteries,  a  clear  demonstration  of  which  God 
has  reserved  for  another  life:  but  let  us  attend 
to  that  law,  which  he  has  required  us  to  obey 
in  the  present  state. 

But  men  will  run  counter  to  the  declarations 
of  God  in  Scripture.  "  Things  that  are  re- 
vealed, which  belong  unto  us  and  our  children 
for  ever,"  we  leave,  and  we  lay  our  rash  hands 
on  "secret  things,  which  belong  unto  the  Lord 
our  God."  We  lay  aside  charity,  moderation, 
mutual  patience,  duties  clearly  revealed,  power- 
fully pressed  home,  and  repeated  with  the  ut- 
most fervour,  and  we  set  ourselves  the  task  of 
removing  insuperable  difficulties,  to  read  and 
turn  over  the  book  of  God's  decrees.  We 
regulate  and  arrange  the  decrees  of  God,  we 
elevate  our  pretended  discoveries  into  articles 
essential  to  salvation  and  religion,  and  at  length 
we  generate  doubts  and  fears,  which  distress  us 
on  a  death-bed,  and  oblige  us  to  undergo  the 
intolerable  punishment  of  trying  to  reconcile 
doctrines,  the  clearing  of  which  is  beyond  the 
capacity  of  all  mankind. 

No,  no:  it  was  not  thy  decree,  O  my  God, 
that  dug  hell,  and  kindled  the  "  devouring  fire," 
the  "smoke  of  which  ascendeth  up  for  ever 
and  ever!"  In  vain  the  sinner  searches  in  a  de- 
cree of  reprobation  for  what  comes  only  from 
his  own  depravity.  Thou  dost  not  say  to  thy 
creatures,  yield,  yield  miserable  wretches  to 
my  sovereign  will,  which  first  impels  you  to 
sin,  in  order  to  compel  you  to  suffer  that  pun- 
ishment, which  I  have  decreed  for  you  from  all 
eternity.  Thou  reachest  out  thy  charitable 
arms,  thou  appliest  to  us  motives  the  most 
proper  to  affect  intelligent  minds.  Thou  open- 
est  the  gates  of  heaven  to  us,  and  if  we  be  lost 
amidst  so  many  means  of  being  saved,  "  to  thee 
belongeth  righteousness,  and  to  us  shame  and 
confusion  of  face.  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  de- 
stroyed thyself." 

II.  You  will  see  the  evidence  of  this  propo- 
sition much  better,  my  brethren,  if  you  attend 
to  the  discussion  of  the  second  class  of  difficul- 
ties, to  which  the  subject  is  liable.  They  are 
taken  from  the  nature  of  religion.  There  are 
men  so  stupid,  or  rather  so  wicked,  as  to  con- 
sider religion,  that  rich  present  which  God  in 
his  great  love  made  mankind,  as  a  fatal  present 


118 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  DESTRTJCTION 


[Ser.  Lxvn. 


given  in  anjrcr.  The  duties  required  seem  to 
them  vast  valleys  to  fdl  up,  and  liuijc  moun- 
tains to  level,  and  attributing  insuperable  dif- 
ficulties to  reliijion,  which  are  creatures  only 
of  their  own  cowardice  and  malice,  they  can- 
not comprehend  how  men  can  be  i)iHiished  for 
not  performing  sucli  impossible  conditions.  Let 
us  examine  this  religion;  nothing  more  is  ne- 
cessary to  remove  this  odious  objection. 

1.  Observe  the  first  character  of  evangelical 
morality,  how  cUarly  it  Is  reiraled.  Let  heresy 
attack  the  truths  of  our  my.steries.  If  demon- 
strative arguments  cannot  be  produced,  pro- 
bable ones  may;  if  the  doctrines  cannot  be  e.v- 
punged  from  tlie  letter  of  Scripture,  at  least 
they  may  be  disguised;  if  they  cannot  be  ren- 
dered contemptible,  they  may  for  a  while  be 
made  ditlicult  to  understand:  but  propositions 
that  concern  moral  virtues  are  placed  in  a  light 
BO  clear,  tiiat,  far  from  cxtinguisiiing  it,  nothing 
can  diminish  its  brightness.  Religion  clearly 
requires  !i  magistrate  to  be  equitable  and  a 
subject  obedient;  a  father  tender,  and  a  son 
dutiful;  a  husband  aftcctionatc,  and  a  wife 
faithful;  a  master  gentle,  and  a  servant  diligent; 
a  pastor  vigilant,  and  a  flock  teachable.  Re- 
ligion clearly  requires  us  to  exercise  moderation 
in  prosperity,  and  patience  in  adversity.  Re- 
ligion clearly  requires  us  to  be  wholly  attentive 
to  the  divine  majesty,  when  we  are  at  the  foot 
of  his  throne,  and  never  to  lose  sight  of  him 
after  our  devotions  are  finished.  Religion 
clearly  requires  us  to  perform  all  tlic  duties  of 
our  calling  through  the  whole  course  of  life, 
and  wholly  to  renounce  the  world  when  we 
come  to  die.  Excei)t  some  extraordinary  cases, 
(and  would  to  God,  my  brethren,  we  had  ar- 
rived at  such  a  degree  of  ])crfection  as  rendered 
it  necessary  for  us  to  examine  what  conduct 
we  ought  to  observe  in  some  circumstances, 
which  the  law  seems  not  to  have  fully  explain- 
ed!) I  say,  except  such  cases,  all  others  are 
regulated  in  a  manner  so  clear,  distinct,  and 
intelligible,  that  we  not  only  cannot  invent 
any  difliculties,  but  that,  except  a  few  idiots, 
nobody  has  ever  [jretended  to  invent  any. 

2.  The  next  character  of  Christian  morality 
is  dignity  of  principle.  Why  did  God  give  us 
laws?  Because  he  loves  us,  and  because  he 
would  have  us  to  love  liim.  Why  does  he 
require  us  to  bear  the  cross?  Ilecause  he  loves 
us,  because  he  would  have  us  love  liim,  and 
becaiise  infatuation  with  creatures  is  incom- 
patible with  this  twofold  love.  Why  does  he 
require  us  to  deny  ourselves?  Recansc  he  loves 
us,  and  because  he  would  have  us  love  liim, 
because  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  love  us  and 
yet  to  permit  our  ill-directed  self-love  to  hurry 
us  blindly  into  a  gulf  of  misery,  because  it  is 
impo8sil)le  if  we  love  him  to  love  ourstdves  in 
a  manner  so  inglorious  to  him.  How  pleasant 
is  it  to  submit  to  bonds,  which  the  love  of  God 
imposes  on  us!  How  deliglitfid  is  it  to  yield  to 
obliifations,  when  the  love  of  God  supports  us 
under  the  weight  of  them! 

3.  The  third  ciiaractcr  of  Ciiristian  morality 
is  the  justice  of  its  dominions.  All  its  claims 
are  foundiîd  on  reason  and  equity.  E.xamine 
the  laws  of  rcliirion  one  by  one,  and  you  will 
find  they  all  hear  this  character.  Does  religion 
prescribe  humility?  It  doi^s;  but  what  is  this 
humility?  Is  it  a  virtue  that  shocks  reason,  and 


degrades  the  dignity  of  human  nature?  By  no 
means,  the  gos|)el  proi>oses  to  elevate  ns  to  the 
highest  diijrnity  that  we  are  capable  of  attaining. 
But  wliat  then  does  it  mean  l)y  requiring  ua  to 
be  huMd>le?  It  means,  that  we  should  not  esti- 
mate ourselves  by  such  titles  and  riches,  such 
dignities  and  exterior  things,  as  we  have  in 
common  with  men  like  Caligula,  Nero,  Helio- 
gabalus,  and  other  monsters  of  nature,  scourges 
of  society.  Docs  religion  require  mortification? 
It  does,  it  even  describes  it  by  the  most  painful 
emblems.  It  reijuires  us  to  cut  off  a  right, 
hand,  to  pluck  out  a  right  eye,  to  tear  asunder 
all  the  ties  of  flesh  and  blood,  nature  and  self- 
love.  But  what  does  it  mean  by  prescribing 
such  mortification  as  this?  Must  we  literally 
hate  ourselves,  and  must  we  take  as  much  pains 
hereafter  to  make  ourselves  miserable  as  we 
have  taken  hitherto  to  make  ourselves  happy? 
No,  my  brethren,  on  the  contrary,  no  doctrine 
has  ever  carried  self-love,  properly  explained, 
so  far.  The  Christian  doctrine  of  mortifica- 
tion means,  that  by  a  few  momentary  acts 
of  self-denial  we  sliould  free  ourselves  from 
eternal  misery,  and  that  by  contemning  "  tem- 
poral things  which  are  seen"  we  sliould  obtain 
"things  whicli  are  not  seen,  but  which  are 
eternal." 

4.  But,  say  you,  this  perfection  required  by 
the  gospel,  is  it  within  our  reach?  Is  it  not 
this  religion  which  exhorts  ns  to  be  "  perfect  as 
God  is  perfect'"  Is  not  this  the  religion  that 
exhorts  us  to  be  "  holy  as  God  is  holy?"  Does 
not  this  religion  recpiire  us  to  be  "  renewed 
after  the  imaare  of  him  that  created  us?"  In- 
deed it  does,  my  brethren:  yet  this  law,  severe 
as  it  may  seem,  has  a  fourth  cliaracter  exactly 
according  to  our  just  wishes,  that  is,  it  has  a 
character  of  proportion.  As  we  see  in  the  doc- 
trines of  religion,  that  although  they  open  a 
vasi,  field  to  the  most  sublime  geniuses,  yet 
they  accommodate  themselves  to  the  most  con- 
tracted minds,  so  in  regard  to  the  moral  parta 
of  religion,  though  the  most  eminent  saints  are 
required  to  make  more  progress,  yet  the  first 
etforts  of  novices  arc  acceptable  services,  pro- 
vided they  are  sincerely  disposed  to  persevere. 
Jesus  Christ,  our  great  lawgiver,  "knoweth 
our  frame,  and  remembereth  that  we  are  dust; 
he  will  not  break  a  bruised  reed,  and  smoking 
(lax  he  will  not  quench:"  and  the  rule  by  which 
lie  will  judge  us,  will  not  be  .so  much  taken 
from  the  inlinite  rights  acquired  over  us  by 
creation  and  redemption  as  from  our  frailty, 
and  the  eflbrts  we  shall  have  made  to  sur- 
mount it. 

5.  Power  of  motive  is  another  character  of 
evangelical  morality.  In  this  life  we  are  ani- 
mated, 1  will  not  say  only  by  gratitude,  equity, 
and  reason,  motives  too  noble  to  actuate  most 
men:  hut  by  motives  interesting  to  our  pas- 
sions, and  projier  to  inflame  them,  if  they  be 
well  and  thoroughly  understood. 

You  have  ambition.  But  how  do  you  mean 
to  gratify  it'  By  a  palace,  a  dress,  a  few  ser- 
vants, a  few  horses  in  your  carriages?  False 
idea  of  grandeur,  fanciful  elevation!  I  see  in  a 
course  of  Christian  virtue  an  ambition  well 
directed.  To  a|)i)roach  God,  to  be  like  God, 
to  be  made  a  "  jiartakcr  of  the  divine  nature;" 
this  is  true  grandeur,  this  is  substantial  glory. 

You  are  avaricious,  hence  perpetual  care, 


Ser.  LXVII.] 


OF  IMPENITENT  SINNERS. 


119 


hence  anxious  fears,  hence  never  endinjj  move- 
ments. But  how  can  your  avarice  bear  to 
think  of  all  tliu  vicnssitudes  that  may  affect 
your  Jbrtune?  In  a  course  of  Christian  virtue 
I  see  an  avarice  well  directed.  The  jrospcl 
promises  a  fortune  beyond  vici.ssitude,  and  di- 
rects us  to  a  faithful  corresiiondciit,  who  will 
return  us  for  one  griim  thirty,  for  another  sixty, 
for  another  a  hundred  fold. 

You  are  voluptuous,  and  you  refine  sensual 
enjoyments,  tickle  your  a])]ietite,  and  sleep  in 
a  bed  of  down!  I  see  in  a  course  of  virtue  a 
"  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  a  peace 
tliat  passeth  all  understaiiding-,"  pleasures 
boundless  in  prospect,  and  delicious  hi  enjoy- 
ment, pleasures  greater  IJian  the  liveliest  ima- 
gination can  conceive,  and  more  beautiful  than 
the  most  eloquent  lii)s  can  describe. 

Such  is  religion,  my  brethren.  What  a  fund 
of  stupidity,  negligence,  and  corruption,  nmst 
a  man  have  to  resist  it?  Is  this  the  religion 
wo  nmst  oppose  in  order  to  be  damned?  "  U 
Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself." 

111.  Well,  well,  we  grant,  say  you,  we  are 
stupid  not  to  avail  ourselves  of  sucli  advanta- 
ges as  religion  sots  before  us,  we  are  negligent, 
we  are  depraved:  but  all  this  depravity,  neg- 
ligence, iuid  stu|>idity,  are  natural  to  us;  we 
bring  these  dispositions  into  the  world  with  us, 
wo  did  not  make  ourselves;  in  a  word,  we  are 
naturally  inclined  to  evil,  and  incapable  of  do- 
ing good.  This  religion  teaclies,  of  tiiis  we 
are  convinced  by  our  own  feelings,  and  the  ex- 
perience of  all  mankind  confirms  it. 

This  is  the  third  dilHculty  concerning  the 
proposition  in  the  text,  and  it  is  taken  from 
the  condition  of  huinim  nalure.  In  answer  to 
this,  1  say,  that  the  objection  implies  four  vague 
notions  of  human  depravity,  each  erroneous, 
and  all  removable  by  a  clear  explication  of 
the  subject. 

1.  When  we  speak  of  our  natural  impotence 
to  practise  virtue,  we  confound  it  wilb  an  in- 
surmountable necessity  to  connnit  tiie  greatest 
criu)es.  We  may  bo  in  the  first  case  without 
being  in  the  second.  We  may  be  sick,  and  in- 
capiiblo  of  procuring  medicines  to  restore 
health,  without  being  invincibly  impelled  to 
aggravate  our  condition  by  taking  poison  for 
food,  and  a  dagger  for  physic.  A  man  may  be 
in  a  pit  without  ability  to  get  out,  and  yet  not 
be  invincibly  compelled  to  tlirow  himself  into 
a  chasm  beneath  him,  deeper  and  darker,  and 
more  terrible  still.  In  like  mamjcr,  we  may 
be  so  enslaved  by  de|>ravity  as  not  to  be  able 
to  part  with  any  thing  to  relieve  the  jxtor,  and 
yet  not  so  as  to  be  absolutely  com[)ellcd  to  rob 
them  of  the  alms  bestowed  on  them  by  others, 
and  so  of  the  rest. 

It  seems  to  me,  my  brethren,  that  this  dis- 
tinction has  not  been  attended  to  in  discourses 
of  human  depravity.  Let  [jcople  allege  this 
im|)Oteuce  to  e.tcul|)ale  tlicmsclves  for  not 
practising  virtue,  witli  all  my  heart:  but  to 
allege  it  in  excuse  of  odious  crimes  practised 
every  day  freely,  willingly,  and  of  set  purpose, 
is  to  form  such  an  idea  of  natural  depravity 
as  no  divine  has  ever  given,  and  such  as  can 
never  be  given  wilb  the  least  appeanmce  of 
trutli.  iSO  sermon,  no  body  of  (Hviuily,  no 
council,  no  synod  ever  said  that  human  de- 
pravity was  so  great  as  absolutely  to  force  a 


man  to  becomo  an  a.sHassin,  a  murderer,  a 
slanderer,  a  ])lunderer  of  the  fortune,  and  a 
destroyer  of  the  life  of  his  neiglibour,  or,  what 
is  worse  than  either,  a  nmrderer  of  his  reputa- 
tion and  honour.  IJad  such  a  pro[)osition  been 
advanci-'d,  it  would  not  be  the  more  probable 
for  that,  and  nothing  ought  to  induce  us  to 
spare  it.  Monsters  of  nature!  who,  after  you 
have  taken  pains  to  eradicate  from  your  hearts 
such  fibres  of  nature  as  sin  seems  to  have  left, 
would  you  attemjit  to  exculjjate  yourselves.' 
you  who,  al"ler  you  have  rendered  yourselves 
in  every  instance  unlike  God,  would  carry 
your  madness  so  far  as  to  render  God  like 
yourselves  by  accusing  him  of  creating  you 
with  dispositions,  which  oblige  you  to  dip  your 
hands  in  iimocent  blood,  to  build  your  houses 
with  the  sjxiils  of  widows  and  orphans,  and  to 
connnit  crimes  subversive  of  society?  Cîease 
to  aiiirm,  these  are  natural  dispositions.  No, 
they  are  accjuired  dispositions.  That  part  of 
religion  which  i)roliibits  your  excesses,  is  practi- 
cable by  you  without  the  supernatural  aid  neces- 
sary to  a  thorough  conversion. 

2.  When  wc  speak  of  natural  depravity,  we 
confound  the  pure  virtue  that  religion  inspires 
with  other  virtues,  which  constitution,  educa- 
tion, and  motives  of  worldly  honour,  are  suffi- 
cient to  enable  us  to  practise.  I  grant,  you 
caimot  practise  such  virtues  as  have  the  love 
of  God  for  tlii^ir  principle,  order  for  their  mo- 
tives, and  perfection  for  their  end:  but  you 
may  at  least  acknowledge  your  natural  depra- 
vity, and  exclaim,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am, 
who  shall  deliver  me  from  tlic  body  of  this 
death?"  You  may  at  least  exclaim  with  the 
magician  mentioned  by  a  poet,  I  see  and  ap- 
prove of  the  best  things,  though  I  practise  the 
worst.  You  may  do  more,  you  may  practise 
some  superficial  virtues,  which  the  very  hea- 
thens, not  in  covenant  with  God,  exemplified. 
You  may  be  cautious  like  Ulysses,  temperate 
like  Scii)io,  chaste  like  Polemon,  wise  like  So- 
crates. If  tiien  you  neglect  this  sort  of  virtue, 
and  if  your  negligence  ruin  you,  "  your  destruc- 
tion is  of  yourselves." 

3.  When  we  speak  of  natural  depravity,  we 
confound  that  of  a  man  born  a  pagan  with  only 
the  light  of  reason  with  that  of  a  Christian, 
born  and  educated  among  Christians,  and 
amidst  all  the  advantages  of  revelation.  This 
vague  way  of  talking  is  a  consequence  of  the 
miserable  custom  of  taking  detached  pa.ssages 
of  Scri|)ture,  considering  them  only  in  them- 
selves without  any  regard  to  connexion  of  time, 
place,  or  circumstance,  and  applying  them  in- 
discriminately to  their  own  im;iginations  and 
systems.  The  inspired  writers  give  us  dread- 
ful descriptions  of  the  state  of  believers  before 
their  being  called  to  Christianity:  they  call 
this  state  "  a  niglit,  a  death,  a  nothing,"  in  re- 
o-ard  to  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  certainly 
tlie  state  of  a  m;ui  now  living  without  religion 
under  tlie  gospel  economy  may  be  properly 
described  in  the  same  manner:  but  I  affirm, 
that  tiicse  expressions  must  be  taken  in  a  very 
diflerent  sense.  "  This  night,  this  death,  this 
notliing,"  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak  so,  have 
ditlereiit  degrees.  The  degrees  in  regard  to  a 
native  pagan  are  greater  than  those  in  regard' 
ti)  :i  native  Christian.  What  then,  my  bre- 
tliren,  do  you  reckon  for  nothing  all  the  caie 


120 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  DESTRUCTION 


[Ser.  LXVU. 


t&ken  of  you  in  your  infancy,  all  the  instruc- 
tions given  you  in  your  childhood  by  your 
pious  mthers  and  mothers,  all  the  lessons  they 
procured  others  to  give  you,  all  the  tutors  who 
have  given  you  information!  Wliat!  agreea- 
ble books  put  into  your  hands,  exhortations, 
directions,  and  sermons,  addressed  to  you,  you 
reckon  all  these  things  for  nothing!  What! 
•you  make  no  account  of  the  visits  of  your 
pastors,  when  you  thought  yourselves  dying, 
of  the  proper  discourses  tliey  directed  to  you 
concerning  your  past  negligence,  of  your  own 
resolutions  and  vows!  1  ask,  do  you  reckon 
all  this  for  nothing?  All  these  efforts  have 
been  attended  with  no  good  effect:  but  you  are 
as  ambitious,  £is  worldly,  as  envious,  as  covet- 
ous, as  eager  in  pursuit  of  lasciviousness,  as 
ever  the  heathens  were,  and  you  never  blush, 
nor  ever  feel  remorse,  and  all  under  pretence 
that  tlie  gospel  teaches  us  we  are  frail,  and  can 
do  nothing  without  the  assistance  of  God! 

4.  In  fine,  my  brethren,  when  we  speak  of 
the  depravity  of  nature,  we  confine  the  con- 
dition of  a  man,  to  whom  God  has  given  only 
exterior  revelation,  with  the  condition  of  him 
to  whom  God  offers  supernatural  aid  to  assist 
him  against  his  natural  frailty,  which  prevents 
his  living  up  to  external  revelation.  Does  he 
not  offer  you  this  assistance?  Does  not  the 
holy  Scripture  teach  you  in  a  hundred  places 
that  it  is  your  own  fault  if  you  be  deprived 
ofiL> 

Recollect  only  the  famous  words  of  St. 
James,  which  were  lately  explained  to  you  in 
this  pulpit  with  the  greatest  clearness,  and 
pressed  home  with  the  utmost  pathos.*  "If 
any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 
tliat  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraid- 
etb  not,  and  it  shall  be  given  him."  God  gives 
to  all  men  liberally,  to  all  without  exception, 
and  they  who  are  deprived  of  this  wisdom 
ought  to  blame  none  but  themselves,  not  God, 
who  gives  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraids  not. 

True,  to  obtain  it,  we  must  ask  with  a  de- 
sign to  profit  by  it;  we  must  ask  it  "  nothing 
wavering,"  that  is,  not  divided  between  the 
hope  and  the  fear  of  obtaining  it:  we  must  not 
be  like  those  "  double-minded  men,  who  are 
unstable  in  all  their  ways,"  who  seem  by  ask- 
ing wisdom  to  esteem  virtue,  but  who  discover 
by  the  abuse  they  make  of  that  wisdom  they 
have,  that  virtue  is  supremely  hateful  to  them. 
We  must  not  resemble  the  "  waves  of  tiie  sea" 
which  seem  to  offer  the  spectator  on  a  shore  a 
treasure,  but  which  presently  drown  him  in 
gulfs  from  which  he  cannot  possibly  free  him- 
self. Did  God  set  this  wisdom  before  us  at  a 
price  too  higlL""  Ought  we  to  find  fault  with 
him  for  refusing  to  bestow  it,  while  we  refuse 
to  apply  it  to  tliat  moral  use  which  justice  re- 
«juires?  Can  we  desire  God  to  bestow  his  grace 
on  such  as  ask  for  it  only  to  insult  him? 

O!  tiiat  we  were  properly  affected  with  the 
greatness  of  our  depravity,  and  the  shame  of 
our  slavery!  IJut  our  condition,  all  scanda- 
lous and  horrible  as  it  is,  seems  to  us  all  full  of 
cliarms. 

When  we  arc  told  that  sin  has  subverted 
nature,  infected  the  air,  confounded  in  a  man- 


'  Till»  rrmarU  inilirHirs  n  criiKrous  (cingler  in  Sikurin, 
to  apeak,  haudauuicly  uf  liis  colleague». 


ner  cold  with  heat,  heat  with  cold,  wet  with 
dry,  dry  with  wet,  and  disconcerted  the  beau- 
tiful order  of  creation,  which  constituted  the 
happiness  of  creatures;  when  we  cast  our  eyes 
on  the  maladies  caused  by  sin,  the  vicissitudes  i 
occasioned  by  it,  the  dominion  of  death  over 
all  creatures,  which  it  has  established;  when 
we  see  ourselves  stretched  on  a  sick  bed,  cold, 
pale,  dying,  amidst  sorrows  and  tears,  fears 
and  pains,  waiting  to  be  torn  from  a  world 
we  idolize;  then  we  detest  sin,  and  groan  under 
the  weight  of  its  chains.  Should  that  Spirit,  ' 
who  knocks  to-day  at  tht  door  of  our  hearts,  say 
to  us,  open,  sinner,  I  will  restore  nature  to  its 
beauty,  the  air  shall  be  serene,  and  all  the  ele- 
ments in  harmony,  I  will  confirm  your  health, 
reanimate  your  enfeebled  frame,  lengtlien  your 
life,  and  banish  for  ever  from  your  houses  death, 
that  death  which  stains  all  your  rooms  with 
blood:  Ah!  every  heart  would  burn  with  ardour 
to  possess  this  assistance,  and  every  one  of  my 
hearers  would  make  these  walls  echo  with, 
Come,  Holy  Spirit,  come  and  dry  up  our  tears 
by  putting  an  end  to  our  maladies. 

But  when  we  are  told,  that  sin  has  degraded 
us  from  our  natural  dignity;  that  it  has  loaded 
us  with  chains  of  depravity;  that  man,  a  crea- 
ture formed  on  the  model  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions, and  required  to  receive  no  other  laws 
than  those  of  order,  is  become  the  sport  of  un- 
worthy passions,  which  move  him  as  they 
please,  which  say  to  him,  go  and  he  goeth, 
come  and  he  cometh,  which  debase  and  vilify 
him  at  pleasure,  we  are  not  affected  with 
these  mortifying  trutlis,  but  we  glory  in  our 
shame! 

Slaves  of  sin!  Captives  under  a  heavier 
yoke  than  that  of  Pharaoh,  in  a  furnace  more 
cruel  than  that  of  Egypt!  Behold  your  Deli- 
verer! He  comes  to-day  to  break  your  bonds 
and  set  you  free.  The  assistance  of  grace  is 
set  before  you.  What  am  I  saying?  An 
abundant  measure  is  already  communicated  to 
you.  Already  you  know  your  misery.  Al- 
ready you  are  seeking  relief  from  it.  Avail 
yourselves  of  this.  Ask  for  this  succour,  and 
if  it  be  refused  you,  ask  again,  and  never 
cease  asking  till  you  have  obtained  it. 

Recollect,  that  the  truths  we  have  been 
preaching  are  the  most  mortifying  of  religion, 
and  the  most  proper  to  humble  us.  It  waa 
voluntarily,  that  we  so  often  rebelled  against 
God.  Freely,  alas!  freely,  and  witliout  com- 
pulsion we  have,  some  of  us,  denied  tlie  trutlia 
of  religion,  and  others  given  mortal  wounds  to 
the  majesty  of  its  laws.  Ah!  Are  there  any 
tears  too  bitter,  is  there  any  remorse  too  cut- 
ting, any  cavern  in  the  earth  too  deep,  to  expi- 
ate the  guilt  of  such  a  frightful  character! 

Remember,  the  truths  we  have  been  teach- 
ing are  full  of  consolation.  This  part  of  my 
text,  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself," 
is  connected  with  the  other  part,  "  but  in  me 
is  thine  help."  God  yet  entreats  us  not  to  de- 
stroy ourselves.  God  has  not  yet  given  us  up. 
He  does  not  know,  pardon  tliis  expression,  he 
is  a  stranger  to  tiiat  point  of  lionour,  which 
often  engages  us  to  turn  away  for  ever  from 
those  who  have  treated  us  with  contempt.  He, 
lie  himself,  tlic  great,  the  mighty  God  does  not 
thmk  it  beniKilJi  him,  not  unworthy  of  his 
glorious  majesty,  yet  to  entreat  us  to  rolurn 


Sbr.  LXVIII.] 


THE  GRIEF  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS,  &c. 


121 


to  him  and  be  liappy.  O  "mercy,"  that 
"  reacheth  to  the  heavens!"  O  "  faithfuhiess, 
reachinjT  unto  the  clouds!"  What  consolations 
flow  from  you  to  a  soul  afraid  of  having  ex- 
hausted you! 

Above  all,  think,  think,  my  brethren,  tiiat 
the  truth  we  liave  been  preaciiing  will  be- 
come one  of  the  most  cruel  torments  of  the 
damned.  Devouring  flame,  kindled  by  divine 
vengeance  in  hell,  I  have  no  need  of  your 
light;  smoke  ascending  up  for  ever  and  ever, 
I  have  no  need  to  be  struck  with  your  black- 
ness; chains  of  darkness  that  weigh  down  the 
damned,  I  have  no  need  to  know  your  weight, 
to  enable  me  to  form  lamentable  ideas  of  the 
punishments  of  the  reprobate,  the  truth  in  my 
text  is  sufficient  to  make  me  conceive  your 
horror.  Being  lost,  it  will  be  renicinb«red 
that  there  was  a  time  wlien  destruction  might 
have  been  prevented.  One  of  you  will  recol- 
lect the  education  God  gave  you,  another  the 
sermon  he  addressed  to  you,  a  third  the  sick- 
ness he  sent  to  reform  you:  conscience  will  be 
obliged  to  do  homage  to  an  avenging  God,  it 
will  be  forced  to  allow,  that  the  aid  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  was  mighty,  the  motives  of  tlie 
gospel  powerful,  and  the  duties  of  it  practica- 
ble. It  will  be  compelled  to  acquiesce  in  this 
terrible  truth,  "thou  hast  destroyed  thyself " 
A  condemned  soul  will  incessantly  be  its  own 
tormentor,  and  will  continually  say,  I  am  the 
author  of  my  own  punishment,  I  might  have 
been  saved,  I  opened  and  entered  this  horrible 
gulf  of  myself. 

Inculcate  all  these  great  truths,  Christians, 
let  Ihem  affect  you,  let  them  persuade  you, 
let  them  compel  you.  God  grant  you  tlie 
grace!  To  him  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever. 
Amen. 


SERMON  LXVIII. 


THE  GRIEF  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS  FOR 
THE  MISCONDUCT  OF  THE  WICKED. 


Psalm  cxix.  36. 
Rivers  of  walers  run  dotcn  mine  eijes,  because 
they  keep  not  thy  law. 
Few  people  are  such  novices  in  religion  as 
not  to  know,  that  sinners  ought  not  to  be 
troubled  for  their  own  sins;  but  it  is  but  here 
and  there  a  man,  who  enters  so  much  into  the 
spirit  of  religion  as  to  understand  how  far 
the  sins  of  others  ought  to  trouble  us.  David 
was  a  model  of  both  these  kinds  of  penitential 
grief- 
Repentance  for  his  own  sins  is  immortalized 
in  his  penitential  psalms:  and  would  to  God, 
instead  of  that  fatal  security,  and  that  unmean- 
ing levity,  which  most  of  us  discover,  even  af- 
ter we  have  grossly  offended  God,  would  to 
God,  we  had  the  sentiments  of  this  penitent! 
His  sin  was  always  before  him,  and  imbittered 
all  the  pleasures  of  life.     You  know  the  lan- 

tuage  of  his  grief  "  Have  mercy  on  mo,  O 
pord,  for  I  am  weak,  my  bones  are  vexed. 
Mine  iniquities  are  gone  over  mine  head:  as 
a  heavy  burden  they  are  too  heavy  for  me. 
Out  of  the  depths  have  I  cried  unto  thee,  O 

Vol.  IL— 16 


Lord.  I  acknowledge  my  transgression,  and 
my  sin  is  ever  before  me.  Deliver  mo  from 
blood-guiltiness,  O  God,  thou  God  of  my  sal- 
vation. Restore  unto  me  the  joy  of  thy  salva- 
tion, that  the  bones  whicJi  thou  hast  broken 
may  rejoice." 

iJut  as  David  gives  ua  such  proper  models 
of  penitential  expressions  of  grief  for  our  own 
sins,  so  he  furnishes  us  with  others  as  just  for 
lamenting  the  sins  of  others.  You  have  heard 
the  text,  "  river»  of  waters  run  down  mine 
eyes,  because  tltey  keep  not  thy  law."  Read 
the  psahn  from  which  the  text  is  taken,  and 
you  will  find  that  our  prophet  shed  three  sorts 
of  tears  for  the  sins  of  others.  The  first  were 
tears  of  zeal:  the  second  flowed  from  love: 
the  third  from  self-interest.  This  is  a  kind  of 
peiiitnnce,  which  1  propose  to-day  to  your  emu- 
lation. 

In  tlie  first  place,  I  will  describe  the  insults 
which  a  sinner  offers  to  God,  and  will  endea- 
vour to  siiow  you,  that  it  is  impossible  for  a 
good  man  to  see  his  God  aff'ronted  in  this  man- 
ner without  being  extremely  grieved,  and 
shedding  tears  of  ;t«/. 

In  the  second  place,  I  will  enumerate  the 
miseries,  into  which  o  siniur  plunges  himself 
by  his  obstinate  perseverance  in  sin,  and  1  will 
endeavour  to  convince  you,  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  a  good  man  to  see  this  without  shed- 
ding tears  of  pity  and  love. 

In  the  third  place,  I  sliall  show  you,  if  1  per- 
ceive your  attention  continue,  the  disorders 
which  sirmers  cause  in  society,  in  our  cities 
and  families,  and  you  will  perceive,  that  it  is 
impossible  for  a  good  man  to  see  the  prosperity 
of  society  every  day  endangered  and  damaged 
by  its  enemies  without  shedding  tears  of  self- 
interest. 

Almighty  God,  whose  "  tender  mercies  are 
over  all  thy  works,"  but  whose  adorable  Pro- 
vidence condemns  us  to  wander  in  a  valley  of 
tears;  O  condescend,  "  to  put  our  tears  into 
thy  bottle,"  and  to  gather  us  in  due  time  to 
that  happy  society  in  which  confonnity  to  thy 
laws  is  the  highest  happiness  and  glory! 
Amen. 

I.  David  shed  over  sinners  of  his  time,  tears 
of  zeal.  Thus  he  expresses  himself  in  the 
psalm  from  which  we  have  taken  the  te.xt, 
"  My  zeal  hath  consumed  me,  because  raino 
enemies  have  forgotten  thy  words."  But 
what  is  zeal.'  How  many  people,  to  exculpate 
themselves  for  not  feeling  this  sacred  flame, 
ridicule  it  as  a  phantom,  tlie  mark  of  an  enthu- 
siast? However,  there  is  no  disposition  more 
real  and  sensible.  The  word  zeal  is  vague  and 
metaphorical,  it  signifies  fire,  heat,  warmth, 
and  applied  to  intelligent  beings,  it  means  the 
activity  and  vehemence  of  their  desires,  hence, 
in  common  style,  it  is  attributed  to  all  the  pas- 
sions indifferently,  good  and  bad:  but  it  is 
most  commonly  applied  to  religion,  and  there 
has  two  meanings,  the  one  vague,  the  other 
precise. 

In  a  vague  sense,  zeal  is  put  less  for  a  parti- 
cular virtue,  than  for  a  general  vigour  and 
vivacity  pervading  all  the  powers  of  the  soul 
of  a  zealous  man.  Zeal  is  opposed  to  luke- 
warmness,  and  lukewarmness  is  not  a  particu- 
lar vice,  but  a  dulness,  an  indolence  liiac  ac- 
companies and  enfeebles  all  the  exercises  of 


122 


THE  GRIEF  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS 


[Skr.  LXVIII. 


the  religion  of  a  lukewarm  man.  On  the  con- 
trary, zeal  ia  a  tire  animating  all  tlie  emotions 
of  the  piety  of  tlie  man  who  has  it,  and  giving 
them  all  the  worth  and  weight  of  vehemence. 

But  as  the  most  noble  exercises  of  religion 
are  nuch  na  have  God  for  their  object,  and 
as  the  virtue  of  virtues,  or,  as  Jesus  Christ  ex- 
presses it,  "  the  first  and  great  commandment" 
is  that  of  divine  love,  zeal  is  particularly  taken 
(and  this  is  the  precise  meaning  of  tiie  word,) 
for  loving  God,  not  for  a  love  limited  and  mo- 
derate, such  as  that  which  we  ought  to  have 
for  creatures,  even  creatures  the  most  worthy 
of  esteem,  but  a  love  boundless  and  beyond 
moderation,  so  to  speak,  like  that  of  glorified 
spirits  to  the  tiuprcme  Intelligence,  whose  per- 
fections have  no  limits,  whose  beauties  are 
infinite. 

The  idea  thus  fi.xed,  it  is  easy  to  compre- 
hend, that  a  soul  animated  with  zeal,  cannot 
see  without  the  deepest  sorrow,  the  insults  of- 
fered by  sinners  to  his  God.  What  object  is 
it  that  kindles  tlames  of  zeal  in  an  ingenuous 
•oui?  It  is  the  union  of  three  attributes:  an  at- 
tribute of  magnificence,  an  attribute  of  holi- 
ness, and  an  attribute  of  communication.  This 
union  can  be  found  only  in  God,  and  for  this 
reason  God  only  is  worthy  of  supreme  love. 
Every  being  in  whom  any  one  of  these  three 
attributes  is  wanting,  yea,  any  being  in  whom 
any  degree  is  wanting,  is  not,  cannot  be  an  ob- 
ject of  supreme  love. 

In  vain  would  God  possess  attributes  of  cha- 
ritable communication,  if  he  did  not  possess 
attributes  of  magnificence.  His  attributes  of 
communication  would  indeed  inspire  me  with 
•entiments  of  gratitude:  but  what  benefit  should 
I  derive  from  his  inclination  to  make  me  happy, 
if  he  had  not  power  sufficient  to  do  so,  and  if 
he  were  not  himself  the  happy  God,  that  is, 
the  origin,  the  source  of  all  felicity,  or,  as  an 
inspired  writer  speaks,  "  the  parent  of  every 
good  and  every  perfocl  gift'"  James  i.  17.  In 
this  case  he  would  reach  a  feeble  hand  to  help 
me,  he  would  shed  unavailing  tears  over  my 
■liseries,  and  I  could  not  say  to  him,  my  su- 
preme "  good  is  to  draw  near  to  thee;  whom 
have  I  in  heaven  but  thee?  and  there  is  none 
upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee,"  Ps.  Lx.xiii. 
28.  25. 

In  vain  would  God  possess  attributes  of  ho- 
liness, if  he  did  not  possess  attributes  of  com- 
munication. In  this  case  he  would  indeed  be 
an  object  of  my  admiration,  but  he  could  not 
be  the  ground  of  my  hope.  I  should  be  struck 
•with  the  contemplation  of  a  virtue  always  pure, 
always  firm,  and  always  alike:  but  in  regard  to 
me,  it  would  be  only  an  abstract  and  metaphy- 
•ical  virtue,  whicli  could  have  no  influence 
over  my  happiness.  Follow  this  reasoning  in 
regard  to  the  other  attributes,  and  you  will 
perceive  tliat  nothing  but  a  union  of  these 
three  can  render  an  object  supremely  lovely, 
and  as  this  union  can  be  found  only  in  God,  it 
is  God  only  who  can  bo  the  object  of  zeal,  or, 
what  is  the  same  tiling,  expressed  in  other 
words,  God  alone  is  worthy  of  supreme  love. 

As  we  make  a  progress  in  our  meditation, 
and  in  proportion  as  we  acijuire  a  just  notion 
of  true  zeal,  we  shall  enter  into  the  spirit  and 
meaning  of  the  words  of  our  psalmist.  Do 
you  love  God  as  he  did.^  Does  your  heart  bum 


like  his,  with  flames  of  divine  zeal?  Then  you 
can  finish  the  first  part  of  my  discourse,  for 
you  know  by  experience  this  disposition  of 
mind,  "  my  zeal  hath  consumed  me,  because 
mine  enemies  have  forgotten  thy  words.  Ri- 
vers of  waters  run  down  mine  eyes  because 
they  keep  not  thy  law." 

Sinners,  I  do  not  mean  such  aa  sin  through 
infirmity  and  surprise,  the  text  does  not  Bp>eak 
of  them,  I  mean  such  as  sin  openly,  freely,  and 
deliberately,  these  sinners  attack  the  perfec- 
tions of  God,  either  his  attributes  of  magni- 
ficence, or  those  of  holiness,  or  those  of  com- 
munication, and  sometimes  all  three  together. 
Tiiey  endeavour  to  disconcert  the  beautiful 
harmony  of  the  divine  perfections,  and  so  to 
rob  us  of  all  we  adore,  the  only  worthy  object 
of  our  esteem. 

They  attack  the  magnificence  of  God.  Such 
are  those  madmen  who  employ  all  ihe  depths 
of  tiieir  erudition,  all  the  acutcness  of  their 
genius,  and  all  the  fire  of  their  fancy  to  ob- 
scure the  eternity  of  the  first  cause,  the  infi- 
nity of  his  power,  the  infallibility  of  his  wis- 
dom, and  every  other  perfection  that  makes  a 
part  of  that  complexure,  or  combination  of 
excellences,  which  we  call  magnificence. — 
Such,  again,  are  those  abominable  characters, 
who  supply  the  want  of  genius  with  the  de- 
pravity of  their  hearts,  and  the  blasphemies  of 
their  mouths,  and  who,  riot  being  able  to  attack 
him  with  sp>ecious  reasons  and  plausible  so- 
phisms, endeavour  to  stir  up  his  subjects  to 
rebel,  defying  his  power,  and  trying  whether  it 
be  possible  to  deprive  him  of  the  empire  of,  the 
world. 

Some  sinners  attack  the  attributes  of  holi- 
ness in  the  perfect  God.  Such  are  those  de- 
testable men,  who  presume  to  tax  him  with 
falsehood  and  deceit,  who  deny  the  truth  of 
his  promises,  who  accuse  his  laws  of  injus- 
tice, and  his  conduct  of  prevarication,  who 
would  persuade  us,  that  the  reins  of  the  uni- 
verse would  be  held  much  more  wisely  by  their 
impure  hands  than  by  those  of  the  judge  of  all 
the  earth. 

Some  sinners  attack  the  attributes  of  com- 
munication. Such,  in  the  first  instance,  are 
tiiose  ungrateful  persons,  who,  while  they 
breathe  only  his  air,  and  live  only  on  his  ali- 
ments, while  only  his  earth  bears,  and  only 
his  sun  illuminates  them,  while  they  neither 
live,  nor  move,  nor  have  a  bemg,  but  what 
they  derive  from  him,  while  he  opens  to  them 
the  path  to  supreme  happiness,  I  mean  the 
road  to  feitii  and  obedience,  pretend  that  he  is 
wanting  in  goodness,  charge  bin»  with  all  the 
miseries  into  which  they  have  the  madness  to 
plunge  themselves,  dare  to  accuse  him  with 
taking  pleasure  in  tormenting  his  creatures, 
and  in  the  sulferings  of  the  unfortunate;  who 
wish  the  goodness  of  tlie  Supreme  Being  were 
regulated  by  their  caprice,  or  rather  by  their 
madness,  and  will  never  consent  to  worship 
him  as  good,  except  he  allows  them  with  im- 
punity to  gratify  their  most  absurd  and  guilty 
passions. 

Observe  too,  people  may  be  profane  by  ac- 
tion as  well  as  by  system  and  reasoning.  If 
simiers  attack  the  attributes  of  God  directly, 
it  is  equally  true,  they  make  an  indirect  attack 
upon  the  same  peribctions. 


Ser.  LXVIII.] 


THE  MISCONDUCT  OF  THE  WICKED 


123 


Here  I  wish,  my  brethren,  each  of  us  liad 
accustomed  himself  to  derive  his  morahty  from 
evangelical  sources,  to  hear  the  language  of 
inspired  writers,  and  to  judge  of  his  own  ac- 
tions, not  by  such  Hattcring  portraits  as  his  own 
prejudices  produce,  but  by  the  essential  pro- 
perties of  morality  as  it  is  described  in  the 
word  of  God. 

For  example,  what  is  a  man  who  coolly  puts 
himself  under  the  protection  of  another  man 
without  taking  any  thought  about  the  guar- 
dianship of  God?     He  is  a  profane  wretcii,  who 
declares  war  against  God,  and  attacks  his  at- 
tributes of  magnificence  by  attributing  more 
power  to   the   patron,   under  whose  wing  he 
creeps  and  thinks  himself  secure,  than  to  that 
God  who  takes  the  title  of  King  of  kings. — 
What  I  say  of  confidence  in  a  king,  I  alHrm 
of  confidence  in  all  other  creatures,  whoever 
or  whatever  tliey  be.     On  this  principle  the 
psaltnist  grounded   this  e.xhortation,   put   not 
your  trust  in  princes,  nor  in  the  son  of  man, 
in  whom  there  is  no  help.     His  breath  goetii 
forth,  he  returneth  to  his  earth,  in  that  very 
day  his  thoughts  perish."     On  this  principle  is  I 
this  other  declaration  of  a  prophet  founded,  | 
"  cursed   be  the   man  that   trusteth   in  man,  j 
and  maketh  flesh   his   arm."     And    it   is  on  ; 
this  principle  that  sacred  history  imputes  so  1 
great  a  crime  to  Asa,  because  when  he  fell  ' 
sick,  and  saw  himself  reduced  to  extremity,  I 
"  he  sought  to  the  physicians,  and  not  to  the  ! 
Lord."  •  I 

What  is  a  man  who  gives  up  his  heart  to 
idolize  any  particular  object?  What  is  a  man 
who  follows  certain  sympathies,  a  certain  se- 
cret influence,  certain  charms  omnipotent  to 
him,  because  he  chooses  to  yield  to  their  om- 
nipotence? He  is  a  profane  wretch,  who 
declares  war  against  God,  and  who  attacks 
his  attributes  of  communication;  he  is  a  man, 
who  attests  by  his  conduct  that  there  is  more 
pleasure  in  his  union  to  his  idol  than  there 
can  be  in  communion  with  God;  he  is  a 
man,  who  maintains  by  his  actions  that  this 
creature  to  whom  he  gives  himself  up  without 
reserve,  merits  more  love,  and  knows  how  to 
return  love  with  more  delicacy  and  constancy 
than  that  God,  who  is  the  only  model  of  per- 
fect love;  he  is  a  man  who  resists  this  invita- 
tion of  eternal  wisdom,  "  my  son,  give  me 
thine  heart,"  and  who  disputes  a  truth,  that 
ought  to  \)c.  considered  as  a  first  principle  in  a 
system  of  love,  "  in  thy  presence  is  fulness  of 
joy,  at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for 
evermore,"  Ps.  xvi.  11. 

Let  us  abridge  this  part  of  our  discourse, 
and  let  us  return  to  the  chief  end  proposed. 
A  sinner,  who  sins  openly,  freely,  of  set  pur- 
pose, attacks  the  attributes  of  God,  either  his 
attributes  of  greatness,  or  his  attributes  of  com- 
munication, or  his  attributes  of  holiness,  some- 
times all  the  three  together.  A  good  man, 
wlio  sincerely  loves  God,  can  he  look  with  in- 
diftcrence  on  such  insults  offered  to  the  object 
of  his  love?  And  in  which  of  the  saints  whom 
the  inspired  writers  have  proposed  as  exam- 
ples to  you,  have  you  discovered  this  guilty  in- 
difference? 

Behold  Moses!  He  comes  down  from  the 
holy  mountain,  he  hears  thç.  acclamations  of 
those  madmen  who  were  celebrating  a  foolish 


feast  in  honour  of  their  idol,  and  he  replies  to 
.Joshua,  who  thought  it  was  a  war  shout,  "  Ah! 
no,  it  is  not  the  voice  of  them  that  shout  for 
ma.stery,  neither  is  it  the  voice  of  thern  that 
cry  for  being  overcome,  but  the  noise  of  them 
that  sing  do  I  hear,"  Exod.  xxxii.  18.  Con- 
vinced by  his  own  eyes,  he  trembles  at  the 
sight,  breaks  the  tables  of  the  law,  on  which 
God  had  engraven  with  his  own  adorable  hand 
the  clauses  of  the  covenant  which  this  people 
were  now  violating,  he  runs  to  the  "  gate  of 
the  ramp,"  and  cries,  "who  is  on  the  Lord's 
side?  Let  liim  come  unto  me!"  And  when 
"  all  the  sous  of  Levi  gathered  themselves  unto 
him,  he  said  unto  them,  put  every  man  his 
sword  by  his  side,  and  go  in  and  out  from  gate 
to  gate,  throughout  tlie  ramp,  and  slay  every 
mail  his  brother,  and  every  man  his  compan- 
ion, and  every  man  his  neighbour,"  ver.  -6,  27. 
See  Fhinehas.  Ho  perceives  Moses  and  Aaron 
"  weeping  at  tiie  door  of  the  tabernacle,"  be- 
cause the  people  had  forsaken  the  worship  of 
God,  and  gone  over  to  that  of  Raal-peor; 
touched  with  llieir  giicf  he  "  rises  up,"  quits 
the  congregation,  "  takes  a  javelin  in  his  hand" 
and  stabs  an  Israelite  (with  the  immodest  Mi- 
dianitc,)  who  had  enticed  the  people,  into  this 
abominable  idolatry.  Behold  Elijah.  "  I  am 
very  jealous,"  says  he,  "for  the  Lord  God  of 
hosts,  for  the  children  of  Israel  have  forsaken 
his  covenant,  thrown  down  his  altars,  and  slain 
his  prophets  with  the  sword,"  1  Kings  xix.  10. 
Remark  St.  Paul.  "  His  spirit  was  stirred  in 
him,  to  see  a  nation,  in  other  respects  the  most 
learned  and  polite,  rendering  to  "  an  unknown 
God"  such  homage  as  was  due  to  none  but  the 
Most  High,  whose  "  glory  the  Heavens  declare, 
and  whose  handy  work  the  firmament  showeth." 
Behold  the  royal  prophet,  "  Do  not  I  hate  them, 
O  Lord,  that  hate  thee?  And  am  I  not  grieved 
with  those  that  rise  up  against  thee?  I  hate 
them  with  perfect  hatred,  I  count  them  mine 
rtiemies,"  Ps.  cxxxix.  21,  22.  "  My  zeal  hath 
consumed  me,  because  mine  enemies  have  for- 
gotten thy  words.  Rivers  of  waters  run  down 
mine  eyes,  because  they  keep  not  thy  law." 
"  Rivers  of  tears,"  tears  of  which  my  zeal  for 
thy  glory  is  the  first  cause. 

II.  Although  the  sinner  be  hateful  as  a  sin- 
ner, yet  as  an  unhappy  person  he  is  an  object 
of  pity,  and  it  is  possible  he  may  preclude  fu- 
ture ills  by  repentance.  As  to  love  God  with 
all  the  heart  is  the  first  and  great  command- 
ment, so  "  the  second  is  like  unto  it,  thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself"  Sin  is  a  source 
of  misery  to  a  sinner,  and  it  is  impossible  for  a 
good  man  to  see,  without  shedding  tears  of 
love  and  pity,  the  depths  of  wo  into  which  peo- 
ple united  to  him  by  bonds  of  affection  plunge 
themselves  by  their  obstinacy  in  sin. 

Every  thing  favours  this  subject.  In  regard 
to  the  present  life,  a  man  living  according  to 
laws  of  virtue  is  incomparably  more  happy 
than  he  who  gives  himself  up  to  vice.  So  the 
Holy  Spirit  has  declared,  "  godliness  hath  pro- 
mise of  the  life  that  now  is,"  1  Tim.  iv.  8. 
Though  this  general  rule  has  some  exceptions, 
yet  they  cannot  regard  the  serenity  of  mind, 
the  peace  of  conscience,  the  calm  of  the  pas- 
sions, the  confidence  of  good  men,  their  stea- 
diness in  the  calamities  of  life,  and  their  in- 
trepidity at  the  approach  of  death.     All  these 


124 


THE  GllIKF  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS  FOR 


[Ser.  LXVIII. 


advantages  and  many  others,  without  which 
the  inuHt  brilliant  condition,  and  tlie  most  de- 
licious life,  are  only  a  splendid  slavery,  and  a 
source  of  grief,  all  these  advantages,  I  say,  are 
inseparable  from  piety.  A  charitable  man  can- 
not see,  witliout  deep  aftliction,  objects  of  his 
tenderest  love  renounce  such  inestimable  ad- 
vantages, poison  the  pleasure  of  their  own  life, 
open  an  inexhaustible  source  of  remorse,  and 
prepare  for  themselves  racks  and  tortures. 

But,  my  breliiren,  these  are  only  the  least 
subjects  of  our  present  contemplation.  We 
have  other  bitter  rerieclions  to  make,  and  other 
tears  to  shed,  and  tliere  is  an  exposition  of 
charity  more  ju.st,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
lamentable,  of  the  words  of  my  te.xt,  "Rivers 
of  waters  run  down  mine  eyes,  because  they 
keep  not  thy  law." 

1  am  tiiinking  of  the  eternal  misery  in  which 
sinners  involve  themselves.  We  are  united  to 
sinners  by  tics  of  nature,  by  bonds  of  society, 
and  by  obligations  of  religion,  and  wiio  can  iielp 
trembling  to  think  that  persons  round  whom  so 
many  tendrils  of  atlectionate  ligaments  twine, 
should  be  threatened  with  everlasting  torments! 
Some  people  are  so  nmch  struck  with  this 
thought,  that  they  think,  when  we  shall  be  in 
heaven  all  ideas  of  people  related  to  us  on  earth 
will  be  eftaccd  from  our  memory,  that  we  siiall 
entirely  lose  the  power  of  remembering,  that 
we  shall  not  even  know  such  as  share  celestial 
happiness  with  us,  lest  the  idea  of  such  as  are 
deprived  of  it  should  diminish  our  pleasure,  and 
imbitter  our  happiness.  Jt  would  be  easy,  in 
my  opinion  to  remove  this  dilliculty,  if  it  were 
necessary  now.  In  heaven  order,  and  order 
alone  will  be  the  foundation  of  our  ha|)piness; 
and  if  order  condenms  the  persons  wc  shall  have 
most  esteemed,  our  happiness  will  not  be  af- 
fected by  their  misery.  Wo  shall  love  only  in 
God;  we  shall  feel  no  attachment  to  any,  who 
do  not  love  God  as  wc  do:  their  cries  will  not 
move  us,  nor  will  their  torments  excite  out 
compassion. 

Hut  while  we  arc  in  this  world,  God  would 
have  us  affected  with  the  misery  that  threatens 
a  sinner,  that  our  own  feelings  may  excite  us 
to  prevent  it.  You  have  sometimes  admired 
one  of  the  most  marvellous  phenomena  of  na- 
ture; nature  has  united  us  together  by  invisible 
bonds,  it  has  formed  our  fibres  in  perfect  unison 
with  the  fibres  of  our  neighbour;  wc  cannot  see 
him  exposed  to  violent  pain  without  receiving 
a  counter  blow,  an  unvaried  tone  that  sounds 
relief  to  him,  and  forces  us  to  a.ssist  him.  This 
is  the  work  of  that  Creator,  whose  infinite  good- 
ness is  seen  in  all  his  productions,  lie  intends 
that  these  sentiments  of  commiseration  in  us 
should  bo  si>  many  magazines  to  sui)ply  what 
the  temporal  miseriesof  our  neighbours  require. 
So  in  regard  to  eternity,  there  is  a  harmony, 
and,  if  vou  will  allow  the  expression,  there  is  a 
unison  of  spirits.  While  we  are  in  this  world, 
an  idea  of  the  eternal  destruction  of  a  peinon 
we  esteem  suspends  the  pleasure,  which  a  hope 
of  salvatiim  promised  to  oursiîlvcs  would  other- 
wise cause.  It  is  the  work  of  the  Creator, 
whoso  gOi>dness  shmesbrigliter  in  religion  than 
in  the  works  of  nature.  That  horror,  which  is 
caused  by  a  bare  appearance,  that  the  man  wc 
so  tenderly  love  should  be  reserved  for  eternal 
torments,  I  say,  the   bare  suspi<-ion  of  such  a 


calamitous  event  compels  us  to  flee  to  the  aid 
of  the  unhappy  object  of  our  esteem,  to  pluck 
him  from  the  jaws  of  destruction  by  reclaiming' 
him  from  his  errors  with  the  force  of  exhorta- 
tion and  the  power  of  example.  To  combat 
these  sentiments  is  to  oppose  the  intention  of 
God;  to  tear  these  from  our  hearts  is  to  disrobe 
ourselves  of  that  charity,  without  which  there 
is  no  religion. 

Accordingly,  the  more  a  mind  becomes  per- 
fect in  the  exercise  of  this  virtue,  the  more  it 
has  of  this  kind  of  sensibility.     Hence  it  wa« 
that  St.  Paul  so  sharply  reproved  the  Corin- 
thians, because  they  had  not  mourned  on  ac- 
count of  that  incestuous  person,  who  had  dis- 
graced their  church.     Hence  it  was  that  Moees, 
when  he  discovered  that  gross  idolatry  of  which 
we  just  now  spoke,  gave  himself  up  to  the  deep- 
est sorrow,  and  said  to  the  Lord,  "  Oh,  this 
people  have  sinned  a  great  sin!     Yet  now,  for- 
give their  sin,  and  if  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  thee, 
out  of  thy  book."    Hence  it  was  that  Jeremiah 
said  to  the  Jews  of  his  time,  who  were  going 
captives  into  a  foreign  land,  where  they  woula 
be  destitute  of  the  comfort  of  religion,  "  give 
glory  to   God  before  he  cause  darkness,  and 
before  your  feet  stumble  upon  the  dark  moun- 
tains.    But  if  ye  will  not  hear  it,  my  soul  shall 
weep  in  secret  places  for  your  pride,  and  mine 
eyes  shall  weep  sore,  and  run  down  with  tears, 
because  the  Lord's  flock  is  carried  away  cap- 
tive."    Hence  this  declaration  of  Paul  to  the 
Philippians,  "  Many  walk,  of  whom  1  have  told 
you  often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that 
they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ." 
Hence  it  was  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  chief  model 
of  charity,  when  he  overlooked  the  unhappy 
Jerusalem,    and    saw    the    heavy    judgments 
coining  upon  it,   "  wept  over  it,"  saying,   "  O 
that  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in 
this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  thy 
l)eace!  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes." 
Here  I  venture  to  defy  those  of  you,  who 
glory  in  insensibility,  to  be  insensible  and  void 
of  feeling.    No,  nothing  but  the  most  confirmed 
inattention  to  futurity,  nothing  but  the  wretch- 
<jd  habit  we  have  formed  of  thinking  of  nothing 
but  the  present  world  can  hinder  our  being 
artected  with  subjects  which  made  the  deepest 
impressions  on  the  soul  of  the  psalmist.     Con- 
sider them  as  he  did,  and  you  will  be  affected 
as  he  was.     You  hardest  hearts,  try,  your  in- 
sensibility, and  see  whether  you  can  resist  such 
reflections  as  these!     This  friend,  who  is  my 
counsel  in  difficulty,  my  support  in  trouble,  my 
comfort  in  adversity;  this  friend,  who  consti- 
tutes the  pleasure  of  my  life,  will  be  perhaps  for 
over  excluded  from  that  happiness  in  heaven, 
to  which  all  my  hopes  and  wishes  tend:  when 
1  shall  be  in  the  society  of  angels,  he  will  be  in 
the  company  of  devils:  when  he  shall  knock  at 
the  door  of  the  bridegroom  who  0i>ened  to  me, 
he  will  receive  this  answer,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  I  know  you  not."     This  catechumen,  in 
whoso  mind  I  endeavoured   to  inculcate  the 
truths  of  religion;  a  part  of  the  men,  whom  I 
thought  I  had  subdued  to  Jesus  Christ;  a  great 
number  of  these  hearers,  whom  I   often  told, 
that  they  would  be  my  joy  and  crown  in  the 
day  of  the  Lord  (certainly   "  you  are  our  joy 
and  crown,")  will  perhaps  be  one  day  disowned 
by  Jesus  Christ  in  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth. 


Ser.  LXVIII.l 


THE  MISCONDUCT  OF  THE  WICKED. 


125 


This  pastor,  whom  I  considered  as  my  guide  in 
the  way  to  heaven,  this  pastor  will  himself  ex- 

Eerience  all  the  horrors  of  that  state,  of  which 
e  gave  me  such  dreadful  ideas.  This  husband 
to  whom  Providence  united  me,  this  husband 
whom  I  esteemed  as  part  of  myself,  I  shall  per- 
haps one  day  consider  as  my  most  mortal  foe, 
I  shall  acquiesce  in  his  damnation,  I  shall  praise 
God  and  say,  "  Hallelujah,  power  belongeth 
unto  the  Lord  our  God!  True  and  righteous 
are  his  judgments!  Hallelujah,  the  smoke  of 
the  torment"  of  him  whose  company  once  con- 
stituted my  happiness,  "  shall  rise  up  for  ever 
and  ever!"  This  child,  in  behalf  of  whom  I 
feel  I  e.xhaust  all  that  the  power  of  love  has  of 
tenderness,  this  child  whose  least  cry  pierces 
my  soul,  and  who  feels  no  pain  without  my 
feeling  a  thousand  times  more  for  him,  this 
child  will  be  seized  with  horror,  when  he  shall 
see  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  surrounded 
with  holy  angels  that  Jesus  whose  coming  will 
overwhelm  me  with  joy:  this  child  will  then 
seek  refuge  in  dens,  and  caverns,  and  ciiasms, 
he  will  cry  in  agony  of  despair,  "  Mountains 
and  rocks,  fall  on  me  and  hide  me  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb!"  He  will  be  loaded  with 
chains  of  darkness,  he  will  be  a  prey  to  the 
worm  that  never  dies,  and  fuel  for  the  fire  that 
will  never  be  quenched,  and  when  Jesus  Christ 
shall  say  to  me  in  that  great  day,  "  Come,  thou 
blessed  of  my  Father,"  I  shall  hear  this  dread- 
ful sentence  denounced  against  this  child,  "  de- 
part, thou  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire  prepared 
for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  Too  just  a  subject 
of  grief!  "  Rivers  of  waters,"  tears  of  love  and 
pity,  "  run  down  mine  eyes:  because  they  keep 
not  thy  law." 

III.  So  earnestly  do  I  desire  to  have  your 
attention  fixed  on  the  objects  just  now  men- 
tioned, that  I  shall  hardly  venture  to  finish  the  | 
plan  proposed,  and  to  proceed  to  a  third  part 
of  this  discourse.     I  wish  you  were  so  alarmed 
with  the  eternal  misery  that  threatens  to  over- 
whelm your  fellow-citizens  and  friends,  your  ; 
husbands  and  children,  and  so  employed  to  pre- 
vent it,  that  you  were  become  as  it  were  in-  | 
sensible  to  the  temporal  ills  to  which  the  ene-  I 
mies  of  God  expose  you.    However,  we  do  not  I 
pretend  that   love  to  our  neighbours  should  i 
make  us  forget  what  we  owe  ourselves.     As 
the  excesses  of  the  wicked  made  our  prophet  | 
shed  tears  of  charity,  so  they  caused  him  to  shed  t 
tears  of  self-interest.  i 

The   wicked   are  the  scourges  of  society. 
One  seditious  person  is  often  sufficient  to  dis- 
turb the  state;  one  factious  spirit  is  often  enough  ' 
to  set  a  whole  church  in  a  flame;  one  profligate  : 
child  is  often  enough  to  poison  the  pleasure  of 
the  most  happy  and  harmonious  family.    Good 
people  are  generally  the  butts  of  the  wicked. 
A  wicked  man  hates  a  good  man.     He  hates  ! 
him,  when  he  has  not  the  power  to  hurt  him,  ' 
because  he  has  not  had  the  pleasure  of  hurting 
him;   he  hates  him,  after  he  has  injured  him,  ' 
because  he  considers  him  as  a  man  always  ready  : 
to  revenge  the  art'ront  oftered  him;  and  if  he  i 
thinks  him  superior  to  revenge,  he  hates  him  ; 
because  he  is  incapable  of  vengeance,  and  be- 
cause the  patience  of  the  oflended  and  the  rage  | 
of  the  offender  form  a  contrast,  which  renders  ; 
the  latter  abominable  in  the  eyes  of  all  equitable  j 
people. 


A  good  man,  on  the  contrary,  is  happy  in  the 
company  of  another  good  man.  What  coun- 
trymen feel,  when  they  meet  in  a  foreign  land 
where  interests  and  customs,  maxims  and 
views,  all  different  from  those  of  the  land  of 
their  nativity,  resembles  the  pleasures  balievers 
experience  when  they  associate  in  a  world 
where  they  are  only  strangers  and  pilgrims. 
Accordingly,  one  of  the  most  ardent  wishes  of 
our  prophet  was,  to  be  always  in  company  with 
j)eople  of  this  kind,  "  I  am  a  companion  of  all 
tlicm  that  fear  thee,  and  of  them  that  keep  thy 
j)rccepts,"  said  he  to  God.  In  another  place, 
"  I  will  early  destroy  all  the  wicked  of  the  land, 
that  I  may  cut  off  all  wicked  doers  from  the 
city  of  the  Lord."  And  again,  "All  my  delight 
is  in  the  excellent  saints  that  are  in  the  earth." 
But  how  few  of  these  saints  did  he  find! 
Most  of  his  misfortunes  were  brought  on  him 
by  the  very  sinners  whose  depravity  he  deplores. 
They  were  the  poison  of  his  life,  and  them  he 
always  saw  standing  ready  to  persecute  him, 
and  to  discharge  against  his  person  the  impotent 
malice  they  had  against  that  God  whose  servant 
he  considered  it  as  his  glory  to  be. 

Does  our  age  differ  in  this  respect  from  that 
of  David?  Are  saints  more  numerous  now  than 
they  were  thea'  May  a  good  man  promise 
himself  among  you  more  approbation,  more 
countenance  and  support,  than  tlie  psalmist 
found? 

This  is  an  odious  question,  and  our  doubts 
may  seem  to  you  illiberal.  Well,  we  will  not 
press  it.  But  if  the  bulk  of  you  be  saints,  this 
country  must  be  the  most  delicious  part  of  the 
whole  universe.  A  good  man  must  be  as  haj)- 
py  as  it  is  possible  to  be  in  this  world.  In  these 
provinces,  free  by  constitution,  opulent  by 
trade,  invincible  by  alliances,  and  perfectly  safe 
by  the  nature  of  their  government  from  tyrants 
and  tyranny,  if  the  number  of  saints  be  greater 
in  these  provinces  than  that  of  the  wicked,  it 
must  be  the  most  delicious  of  all  residences  in 
this  world  for  a  good  man:  if  he  stumbles,  you 
will  charitably  save  him  from  falling,  if  he  errs, 
you  will  patiently  bear  with  him,  and  gently 
reclaim  him;  if  he  be  oppressed,  you  will  assist 
him  with  firmness  and  vigour;  if  he  form 
schemes  of  piety,  charity,  and  reformation,  you 
will  second  him  with  eagerness  and  zeal;  if  he 
sacrifice  his  healtii,  and  ease,  and  fortune,  for 
our  good,  you  will  reward  him  with  gratitude, 
yea  with  profusion.  May  a  good  man  promise 
himself  all  this  among  you?  Alas!  to  be  only 
willing  to  devote  himself  to  truth  and  virtue,  is 
often  suflicient  to  cause  him  to  be  beset  round 
with  a  company  of  contradictors  and  opposera. 
But  we  will  not  engage  too  deeply  in  such 
gloomy  reflections,  we  will  finish  the  discourse, 
and  can  we  finish  it  in  a  manner  more  suitable 
to  the  emotions  of  piety  that  assembled  you  in 
this  solemn  assembly,  than  by  repeating  the 
prayer  with  which  we  began?  Almighty  God! 
whose  adorable  judgments  condemns  us  to  wan- 
der in  a  valley  of  trouble,  and  to  live,  sometimes 
to  be  united  by  indissoluble  ties,  among  men 
who  insolently  brave  thy  commands.  Almighty 
God!  grant  we  may  be  gathered  to  that  holy 
society  of  blessed  spirits,  who  place  their  hap- 
piness in  a  perfect  conformity  to  thine  august 
laws. 

The  occupation  of  the  blessed  in  heaven, 


126 


THE  GRIEF  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS,  &c. 


[8br.  Lxvni. 


(and  this  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  images 
under  which  a  man  who  loves  his  God,  can 
represent  tho  happiness  of  heaven,)  the  em- 
ployment of  the  blessed  in  heaven  is  to  serve 
God;  tlieir  delight  is  to  serve  God;  tho  design 
of  all  Wie  plans,  and  all  the  actions,  and  the 
motions  of  tho  blessed  in  heaven,  is  to  serve 
God.  And  as  the  most  laudable  grief  of  a  be- 
liever in  this  unhappy  world,  which  sin  makes 
a  theatre  of  bloody  catastrophes,  and  a  habita- 
tion of  maledictions,  is  to  see  the  unworthy 
inhabitants  violate  the  laws  of  their  Creator,  so 
the  purest  joys  of  the  blessed,  is  to  see  them- 
selves in  a  society  where  all  the  members  are 
always  animated  with  a  desire  to  please  God, 
always  ready  to  fly  where  his  voice  calls  them, 
always  collected  in  studying  his  holy  laws. 

This  is  the  society  to  which  you,  my  dear 
brethren,  are  appointed;  you  who,  after  tho 
example  of  Lot,  vex  your  righteous  souls  from 
day  to  day  at  seeing  the  depravity  of  the  world; 
you,  I  mean,  "who  shine  as  lights  in  the  midst 
of  a  crooked  and  perverse  nation."  Into  that 
society  those  happy  persons  are  gone,  whom 
death  has  taken  from  us,  and  a  separation  from 
whom  has  caused  us  so  many  sighs  and  tears. 
Behold,  faithful  friend!  behold  the  company 
where  now  resides  that  friend  to  whom  "your 
soul  was  knit,  as  the  soul  of  .Jonathan  was  knit 
with  the  soul  of  David!  See,  thou  weeping 
Joseph!  See  that  society  where  thy  good  fa- 
ther now  is,  that  good  Jacob  whom  thou  didst 
convey  to  the  grave  with  tears  so  bitter,  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Canaan  called  the  place 
where  thou  didst  deposit  the  body,  "  Abel- 
Mizraim,  a  grievous  mourning  to  the  Egyp- 
tians." Look,  frail  father!  look  at  that  society, 
there  is  thy  son,  at  whose  death  thou  didst  ex- 
claim, "  O  Absalom,  my  son,  would  God  I  had 
died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son!" 
And  you,  too,  distressed  Rachels!  whose  voices 
are  heard  lamenting,  weeping,  and  mourning, 
refusing  to  be  comforted,  because  your  children 
are  not;  see,  behold  there  in  heaven  your  chil- 


dren, the  dear  objects  of  your  grief  and  your 
love! 

Oh!  "  Blessed  arc  the  dead  that  die  in  the 
Lord!  I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return 
to  me."  Let  us  apply  tliis  thought  of  the  pro- 
phet to  ourselves,  and  may  the  application  we 
make,  serve  for  a  balm  to  heal  the  wounds, 
which  tho  loss  of  our  friends  has  occasioned! 
"  They  shall  not  return  to  us,"  they  shall  never 
return  to  this  society.  What  a  society!  A  so- 
ciety in  which  our  life  is  nothing  but  a  mise- 
rable round  of  errors  and  sins;  a  society  where 
the  greatest  saints  are  great  sinners;  a  society 
in  which  we  are  often  obliged  to  communicate 
with  the  enemies  of  God,  with  blasphemers  of 
his  holy  name,  violators  of  his  august  laws! 
No,  they  shall  not  "  return  to  us,"  and  this  is 
one  consolation.  But  (and  this  is  the  other,) 
but  "  we  shall  go  to  them."  They  have  done 
nothing  but  set  one  step  before  us  into  eternity; 
the  pleasures  they  enjoy  are  increased  by  the 
hope  of  our  shortly  enjoying  the  same  with 
them.  They,  with  the  highest  transports,  be- 
hold the  mansions  which  Jesus  Christ  has  pre- 
pared for  us  in  the  house  of  his  Father.  "  I 
ascend  unto  my  Father  and  your  Father,  and 
to  my  God  and  your  God,"  said  our  divine 
Redeemer,  to  raise  the  drooping  spirits  of  his 
apostles,  stunned  with  the  apprehension  of  his 
approaching  death.  This  is  the  language  we 
have  heard  spoken,  this  is  the  declaration  we 
have  heard  made  by  each  of  those  whom  we 
have  had  the  consolation  of  seeing  die  full  of 
the  peace  of  God,  "1  ascend  unto  my.  Father 
and  your  Father,  and  to  my  God  and  your 
God."  O  may  we  be  shortly  united  in  the 
bosom  of  this  adorable  Being  with  our  departed 
friends,  whose  conversation  was  lately  so  de- 
lightful to  us,  and  whose  memory  will  always 
continue  respected  and  dear!  May  we  be 
united  with  the  redeemed  of  all  nations,  and 
kindreds,  and  people,  and  tongues,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  blessed  God!  God  grant  us  this 
grace!  To  him  be  honour  and  glory,  for  ever. 
Amen. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Gabriel  Dumont,  author  of  the  following  essay,  was  born  at 
Crest,  in  Dauphiny,  August  19th,  1680,  and  died  at  Rotterdam,  Janu- 
ary 1st,  1748.  He  was  a  refugee  for  religion,  pastor  of  the  Waloon 
church  at  Rotterdam,  and  professor  of  Oriental  languages  and  Ecclesi- 
astical history.  He  published  nothing  himself  during  his  life;  but, 
after  his  decease,  Mr.  Superville,  his  colleague,  published,  with  a 
short  preface,  one  volume  of  his  sermons,  containing  twelve  discourses, 
the  most  plain,  artless,  and  edifying  that  I  have  ever  had  the  happiness 
of  reading;  not  so  disputatious  as  those  of  Amyraut,  not  so  grave  as 
those  of  Superville,  not  so  stiff  as  those  of  Torne  and  Bourdaloue,  not 
so  far-fetched  and  studied  as  those  of  Massillon,  nor  so  charged  with 
colouring  as  those  of  Saurin:  but  placid,  ingenious,  gentle,  natural, 
and  full  of  evidence  and  pathos:  just  as  "  wisdom  from  above"  should 
be,  "  pure,  peaceable,  mild — full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits — sown  in 
peace  to  make  peace,"  James  iii.  17,  18,  The  public  owe  this  volume 
to  Mademoiselle  de  Heuqueville,  the  pious  patroness  and  friend  of  the 
author,  who  had,  as  it  were,  extorted  them  from  him  before  his  death. 

Mr.  Saurin,  who  published  this  essay  in  his  dissertations  on  the 
Bible,  says,  "  I  follow  our  version,  and  the  general  sense  of  interpre- 
ters. A  learned  man  (Mr.  Dumont,)  has  investigated  the  subject  at 
large,  and,  if  he  does  not  furnish  us  with  demonstrations  in  favour  of 
the  system  he  proposes,  yet  his  conjectures  are  so  full  of  erudition,  and 
so  very  probable,  that  we  cannot  help  admiring  them,  while  we  feel  an 
inclination  to  dispute  them." 

For  my  part,  I  own,  if  I  may  venture  a  conjecture,  I  think  Mr.  Du- 
mont has  placed  his  opinion  in  a  light  both  beautiful,  and,  in  a  very 
high  degree,  probable.  To  sum  up  his  meaning,  he  would  read  the 
passage  thus: — 

1  Samuel,  chap.  xxi. 

Ver.  10.  And  David  fled  that  day  for  fear  of  Saul,  and  went  to 
Achish,  the  king  of  Gath. 

11.  And  the  servants  of  Achish  said  unto  him,  Is  not  this  David  the 
king  of  the  land?  did  they  not  sing  one  to  another  of  him  in  dances, 
saying,  Saul  hath  slain  his  thousands,  and  David  his  ten  thousands? 

12.  And  David  was  struck  to  the  heart  with  these  words,  and  was 
sore  afraid  of  Achish,  king  of  Gath. 

13.  And  he  changed  countenance  before  them,  and  fell  convulsed 
into  their  hands,  and  he  hurt  and  marked  himself  against  the  posts  of 
the  gate,  and  he  frothed  on  his  beard. 

14.  Then  said  Achish  unto  his  servants,  Lo,  you  see  the  man  is 
epileptic:  wherefore  then  have  you  brought  him  unto  me? 

15.  Have  I  need  of  epileptics,  that  ye  have  brought  this  man  to  fall 
into  convulsions  in  my  presence?  Shall  this  fellow  come  into  my 
house? 


AN 

ESSAY 

ON    THE 

CONDUCT  OF  DAVID 

AT    THE 

COURT  OF  ACHISH,  KING  OF  GATH, 

IK   A 

LETTER  OF  MR.  DUMONT 

PASTOR  OF  THE  FRENCH  CHURCH  AT  ROTTERDAM,  AND  PROFESSOR  OF  THE  ORIENTAL 
LANGUAGES,  AND  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY 

TO 

MR.  SAURIN,  AT  THE  HAGUE. 


TRANSLATED  BY  ROBERT  ROBINSON. 


AN   ESSAY 

ON 

THE  CONDUCT  OF  DAVID  AT  THE  COURT  OF  ACHISH, 
KING  OF  GATII. 


Sir, 
I  MAT  venture  to  call  the  letter  I  have  the 
honour  to  write  you,  "  An  apology  for  the  con- 
duct of  David  at  the  court  of  king  Achish," 
for  my  design  is  to  prove  three  things:  First, 
that  if  David  had  counterfeited  madness  on  the 
occasion  mentioned  in  the  twenty-first  chapter 
of  the  first  book  of  Samuel,  he  would  not  have 
committed  any  sin.  Secondly,  that  David  did 
not  feign  himself  mad,  as  is  generally  sup- 
posed. And  thirdly,  that  this  heir  apparent 
to  the  crown  of  Israel,  had  not,  at  the  court  of 
Gath,  the  least  degree  of  madness,  either  real 
or  feigned. 

I.  If  you  were  a  man  who  decided  a  point 
of  morality  by  human  authority,  I  might  al- 
lege, in  favour  of  this  first  article,  the  follow- 
ing distich  of  Cato: 

Insipiens  eslo,  cum  tempus  postulat,  aut  res; 

Stultitiam  simulare  loco,  prudentia  summft  est.* 

Independently  of  this  author,  of  whom  we  hard- 
ly know  either  the  true  name,  the  religion,  the 
country,  or  the  age,  every  body  will  allow  that 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  wisdom  required  to 
play  the  fool  properly.  Madness  is  no  sin,  it 
is  a  disease  of  the  mind,  or  rather  of  the  brain. 
David,  it  is  to  be  observed,  during  his  pre- 
tended madness,  said  nothing  criminal.  He 
did  a  few  apparent  acts  of  a  person  insane. 
Why  might  he  not  be  allowed  to  free  himself 
from  imminent  danger  by  this  prudent  dissimu- 
lation.' To  treat  of  this  question  fully  and  ac- 
curately, it  would  be  necessary  to  go  to  the 
bottom  of  the  subject,  and  examine  the  grounds 
and  principles  of  the  obligations  men  are  un- 
der to  speak  and  act  sincerely  to  one  another. 
It  might  not  be  improper  to  investigate  this 
matter  by  inquiring,  whether,  in  this  recipro- 
cal engagement,  there  be  any  difference  be- 
tween deceiving  by  words  known  and  agreed 
on  between  mankind,  and  misleading,  by  ac- 
tions, the  natural  signs  of  the  sentiments  of 
our  hearts.  Particularly,  it  should  be  examin- 
ed, whether  there  be  no  cases  in  which  this 
kind  of  contract  is  in  a  sort  suspended,  and 
whether  David  were  not  in  one  of  these  cases, 
in  which  he  was  not  obliged  so  to  act,  as  to 
convey  to  king  Achish  liis  true  and  real  senti- 
ments. But  as  I  know,  sir,  you  have  examin- 
ed this  subject  in  the  case  of  Samuel,  I  will 
confine  myself  to  two  arguments,  supported  by 
a  few  facts,  relative  to  the  conduct  attributed 
to  David  in  order  to  justify  him. 

First,  his  life  was  in  danger;  and  will  not  a 


Dislicha  Hr  moribus,  lib.  ii.  Disl.  18. 

Vol.  II.— 17 


man  give  all  that  he  has  for  life?  Have  we 
not  a  right  to  do  every  thing  except  sin  to 
avoid  death?  Blame,  and  welcome,  the  cruel 
policy  of  Dionysius  of  Sicily,*  who  sometimes 
spread  a  report  that  he  was  sick,  and  some- 
times that  he  had  been  assassinated  by  his  sol- 
diers, with  a  design  to  discover,  by  the  un- 
guarded conversation  of  his  subjects,  how  they 
stood  affected  to  his  government,  that  he  might 
have  a  pretence  for  proscribing  such  as  were 
ill  affected  to  his  despotism.  Censure,  if  you 
please,  the  king  of  Ithaca,  and  the  astronomer 
Metonf  for  pretending  to  have  lost  their  senses, 
the  first  for  the  sake  of  his  continuing  with  his 
dear  Penelope,  and  the  Ifist  to  avoid  accom- 
panying the  Athenians  in  an  expedition  against 
Sicily.  Pity,  if  you  will,  the  two  monks  Si- 
meon and  Thomas,];  who  affected  to  play  the 
fool,  lest  the  extraordinary  holiness  of  their 
lives  should  not  be  perceived.  I  freely  give 
up  these  tyrants  and  hypocrites  to  the  most  se- 
vere criticism;  and  I  am  inclined  to  be  of  the 
opinion  of  Cicero, §  who  calls  the  finesse  of 
Ulysses,  non  honestum  consllmm,  a  disingenu- 
ous conduct.  Form,  if  you  think  proper,  the 
same  opinion  of  the  stratagem  of  the  famous 
St.  Ephraim,||  who,  understanding  that  he  was 
chosen  bishop,  and  that  they  were  going  to 
force  him  to  be  ordained,  ran  into  a  public 
place,  walked  irregularly,  let  fall  his  robe, 
went  eating  along  the  streets,  and  did  so  many 
actions  of  this  kind,  that  every  body  thought 
he  had  lost  his  senses.  He  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, fled  and  concealed  himself,  and  con- 
tinued to  do  thus  till  they  had  nominated 
another  bishop.  I  will  not  pretend  to  say, 
whether  this  proceeded  from  his  contempt  of 
vain  fflory,  as  Sozomen^  pretends,  or  from  his 
great  love  of  retirement,  for  he  was  xtru^ix,- 
f.,-  ctyxv  sfio-Tt)!.  For  my  part,  I  make  no  scru- 
ple to  say  of  this  artifice,  as  well  as  of  the 
trick  he  played  Apollinaris,**  ivon  honestum 
consilium.  But  you,  sir,  who  are  such  a  good 
citizen,  will  you  condemn  the  wise  Solonjf 
for  counterfeiting  distraction,  in  order  to  divert 
his  fellow-citizens  of  Athens  from  their  resolu- 
tion to  abandon  Salamin,  his  country,  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Megara?     You,  sir,  who  are  no 


♦  Poljiuus  Strataç.  1.  v.  cap.  2.  S.  15, 16. 

t  i£lian  rariar.  historiar.  lib.  xiii.  cap.  12. 

t  Evagrius.  Hist.  Eccles.  lib.  ir.  cap.  34. 

i  Cic.  de  officiis.  lib.  iii.  cap.  26. 

II  Soxomen  Hist.  Ijec\.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 

IT  Soz.  ibid. 

**  Grec,  de  Nyssen  Paneç.  do  8.  Ephr. 

\\  Diogenes  Lacrl.  lib.  i.  m  Solone, 


130 


)AVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


enemy  to  prudence,  will  you  disapprove  the 
opinion  given  uf  Lucius  Junius  Brutus,* 

Brutuj  crut  stulli  sapicus  imilator. 

He  affected  to  be  stupid,  lest  he  should  become 
suspected  by  Tarquin  the  proud,  who  had  put 
to  death  his  father  and  his  eldest  brother,  for 
the  sake  of  seizing  their  great  wealth.  It 
bhould  seeni,  that  on  supposition  David  acted 
a  part  when  he  was  in  danger  of  his  life,  in  a 
place  where  he  had  fled  for  refuge,  it  would  be 
a  sufficient  justification  of  iiis  character  to  say, 
that  he  thought  he  might  innocently  make  use 
of  such  a  stratagem. 

2.  If  the  danger  of  losing  his  life  be  not  suf- 
ficient, let  it  be  observed  farther,  that  the  de- 
ception was  directed  to  the  Philistines,  with 
whom  the  Israelites  were  then  at  war.  This 
is  a  second  argument  to  justify  the  conduct  of 
David.  When  was  it  ever  unlawful  to  use 
stratagems  in  war?  Did  not  God,  himself, 
order  the  Israelites  to  "  lie  in  ambush"  and 
"  to  tlee"  before  the  inhabitants  of  Ai,  in  order 
"  to  draw  them  from  the  city?"  Is  there  any 
less  evil  in  affecting  cowardice  than  there  is 
in  pretending  to  be  deprived  of  reason?  Where 
is  the  general,  who  would  not  be  glad  to  take 
cities  at  the  same  price  as  Callicratidas  of  Cy- 
renef  took  the  fort  of  Rlagnesia,  by  introduc- 
ing four  soldiers,  who  pretended  to  be  sick? 
You  have  observed,  sir,  in  Buchanan's  cxt^îl- 
lent  history  of  Scotland,^  the  manner  in  which 
king  Duncan  defeated  the  army  of  Swen  king 
of  Norway,  who  was  besieging  him  in  Perth. 
He  sent  the  besiegers  a  great  quantity  of  wine 
and  beer,  in  which  some  herbs  of  noxious 
qualities  had  been  infused,  and  while  this  so- 
porific was  taking  effect,  he  went  into  the 
camp,  and  put  the  whole  army  to  the  sword, 
except  the  prince  of  Norway,  and  ten  soldiers, 
who  had  suspected  the  present  made  them  by 
the  enemy,  and  had  not  tasted  the  beverage. 
The  herb  is  supposed  to  be  the  nolanum  or 
stryclmos  of  Pliny, §  the  night  shade,  which  in 
a  certain  quantity  stupifies,  in  a  greater  quan- 
tity distracts,  and  if  more  than  two  drachms, 
causes  death.  For  these  two  reiisons,  then, 
I  conclude  that  my  first  proposition  is  suffi- 
ciently clear.  I  said,  if  David  had  counter- 
feited madness,  and  played  the  fool,  he  would 
not  have  committed  any  sin:  first,  because 
liis  life  was  in  danger:  and  secondly,  be- 
cause the  Philistines  were  at  war  with  his 
country. 

II.  If  any  continue  obstinately  to  maintain 
that  the  dissimulation  of  David  was  criminal, 
and  opposite  to  sincerity  and  good  faith,  I 
have  another  string  to  my  bow,  to  defend  this 
illustrious  refugee.  I  alfirm  that  David  did 
not  play  the  fool,  and  act  a  part;  but  that,  be- 
ing seized  with  extreme  fear  at  hearing  the 
conveisation  of  the  ministers  of  state,  in  the 
court  of  king  Achish,  he  fell  under  a  real  ab- 
sence of  mind,  and  behaved,  in  a  few  instances, 


*   Dion.  It<ilin:irii.  Aiilic|uilat.  Kuman.  Iil>.  1. 

t  Polyiiiu»  Slrata({.  lilj.  ii.  cap.  27,  S.  I. 

{  Burhanani  Hist.  Scolica. — Rem.  This  talc  is  not 
credited  bjr  ^omc  liistorians,  ntid  indeed  it  appears 
higlily  improb;ibl<-  in  itself.  Mr.  Guthrie  calU  it  an 
iulainous  and  improt>able  story. — Hist,  of  Scot.  Vol.  I. 

^  Plia.  Hist.  Nat.  lib.  xxi.  cap.  31.— Salinas  ad  Solin. 
1>.  1066. 


like  a  man  disordered  in  Ins  senses.  Sebas- 
tian Schmidt,*  a  celebrated  Lutheran  divine, 
proposed  as  a  kind  of  problem,  whether  Pro- 
vidence might  not  permit  David  to  be  terri- 
fied into  a  momentary  delirium,  in  order  to 
efff'ct  his  deliverance.  Mr.  John  Christian 
Ortlob,  a  learned  man  of  Leipsicj  published  a 
dissertation,  in  I'lOO,  on  the  delirium  of  David 
before  king  •'7c/iis/«,  in  which  he  shows,  that 
the  whole  of  the  sacred  text  in  Samuel  natu- 
rally leads  us  to  judge  that  David  was  so 
struck  with  the  fear  of  sudden  death,  that  for 
a  few  moments  his  understanding  was  ab8ent. 
As  this  thesis  is  little  known  in  this  country, 
and  as  it  is  curious  in  itself,  you  will  not  be 
displeased,  sir,  if  I  give  you  hero  a  sketch  of 
what  he  says. 

1 .  Mr.  Ortlob  shows,  that  dissimulation  was 
impracticable  in  David's  condition.  Either 
he  artected  to  i)lay  the  fool  the  moment  he 
was  seized  by  the  servants  of  the  king,  or 
only  while  he  was  in  the  presence  of  Achish. 
The  text  is  contrary  to  the  first,  for  it  express- 
ly assures  us  that  this  madness  of  David  was 
in  consequence  of  the  conversation  that  passed 
between  Acliish  and  his  officers  in  the  pre- 
sence of  David.  Tlie  second  supposition  is 
not  at  all  likely,  for  it  would  have  been  very 
imprudent  for  him  to  begin  to  act  his  part  in 
the  presence  of  Achish;  his  officers  would 
have  discovered  the  artifice,  and  would  have 
informed  their  master:  beside,  it  is  incon- 
ceivable that  David  should  continue  from  his 
being  first  taken  to  that  moment  as  mute  as  a 
fish,  in  order  to  conceal  a  design  which  re- 
quired a  state  of  mind  more  tranquil  than  that 
of  David  could  be,  in  a  danger  so  imminent. 

2.  Next,  Mr.  Ortlob  proceeds  to  prove, 
that  David  had  a  true  and  natural  alienation 
of  mind. 

The  first  proof  is,  his  fear  of  danger.  Da- 
vid, says  the  twelfth  verse,  "  laid  up  the  words 
in  his  heart,  and  was  sore  afraid  of  Achish  the 
king  of  Gath."  The  terror  that  seized  his 
soul  affected  the  organs  of  his  body,  and  dis- 
concerted the  fibres  of  his  brain.  There  are 
many  e-Kamples  of  persons  affected  in  like 
manner  with  sudden  fear.  Our  learned  au- 
thor relates  tiie  case  of  a  girl  of  ten  years  of 
itge,!  who  was  so  terrified  with  thunder  and 
lightning  in  a  furious  tempest,  that  she  was 
seized  with  violent  convulsions  in  her  left 
arm  and  her  left  leg.  Though  she  did  not 
lose  her  senses,  yet  she  was  constrained  to 
flee  on  the  other  foot  along  tlie  wainscot  of 
the  chamber,  and  the  company  could  not  stop 
her. 

The  next  proof  is  taken  from  the  expressions 
of  the  inspired  writer,  which  simply  and  lite- 
rally explained,  signify  a  real  madness. 

"  David  changed  his  behaviour."  It  is  in 
the  Hebrew,  his  taste,  that  is  his  reason,  for 
reason  is,  in  man,  what  taste  is  in  regard  to 
aliments. 

"  And  he  became  mad"  The  Hebrew  verb 
halal,  in  the  conjugation  hithpael,  as  it  is  here, 
always  signifies   in   Scripture   real,   and  not 

*  D.  Scbast.  Sclimidiiis  in  1  Sam.  xxi. 

\  Uavidis  delirium  coram  Achis.  Lipsix,  1706,  4.  |'. 
24. 

t  Kphcmcr.  Med.  Phys.  Germ.  Académie,  cunoso- 
rum,  An.  8.  Ob»erv.  71. 


DAVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


131 


feigned  madness;  and  there  is  nothing  in  the 
text  which  obliges  us  to  depart  from  a  sense 
that  perfectly  agrees  with  the  simplicity  of 
the  history.  The  French  and  Englisli  versions 
render  it,  he  feigned  himself  mad;  but  they  are 
wrong,  for  the  original  says  nothing  about 
feigning. 

"  He  scrabbled  on  the  doors  of  the  gate." 
Cornelius  a  Lapide  thinks  he  wrote  the  letter 
tan  to  form  the  figure  of  the  cross.  Kabbi 
Schabtai,  in  a  German  book  entitled  Esrim 
Vearba,*  was  better  informed,  and  he  says 
David  wrote  on  the  gates  of  the  palace,  "  The 
king  owes  mo  a  hundred  thousand  guilders, 
and  his  kingdom,  fifty  thousand."  Mr.  Ortlob, 
learned  as  he  is,  does  not  know  so  much  as  the 
Rabbi  and  the  Jesuit.  He  contents  himself 
with  observing,  tiiat  David,  all  taken  up  with 
his  delirium,  and  iiaving  no  instrument  in  his 
hand  to  write,  scratched  the  gate  with  his 
fingers,  like  people  in  a  malignant  fever.  He 
observes  also,  that  the  indecent  manner  in 
which  David  "  let  his  spittle  fall  down  upon 
his  beard,"  is  a  natural  and  usual  consequence 
of  a  delirium. 

His  third  proof  is  taken  from  the  connexion 
of  the  whole  history,  which  supposes  and  indi- 
cates real  madness.  "  David  changed  his  be- 
haviour:" the  sacred  author  explains  first  in 
what  this  change  consisted,  it  was  in  becoming 
mad  in  the  presence  of  the  king  and  his  officers; 
and  he  adds  two  actions  of  madness,  the  one 
scratching  and  writing  on  the  gates  with  his 
fingers,  and  the  other  drivelling  on  his  beard. 

The  last  proof  our  author  takes  from  tlie 
consequences.  Achish  gives  David  his  life  and 
liberty,  as  a  man  beneath  his  resentment.  He 
was  angry  with  those  who  brought  a  madman 
to  him.  David,  on  his  side,  escaped  the. 
danger,  recovered  his  spirits,  and  became  him- 
self There  is  no  reason  to  question  whether 
he  observed  the  precept  given  by  himself  in 
the  thirty-fourth  Psalm,  which  he  composed, 
as  well  as  the  fifty-si.vth,  to  praise  God  for  his 
deliverance.  "  keep  thy  lips  from  speaking 
guile,"  ver.  13. 

My  second  proposition  w^s,  that  David  did 
not  feign  himself  mad,  as  is  usually  supposed; 
and  Mr.  (Jrllob,  in  this  treatise,  has  justified 
David  t'rom  the  cliargc  of  every  kind  of  dis- 
simulation, and  so  far  it  gives  me  pleasure  to 
follow  him;  lor  this  is  an  opinion  more  tole- 
rable than  the  former,  but  I  must  beg  leave  to 
dissent  from  this  learned  writer,  and  to  state 
ill  the  next  place  my  own  opinion,  for  I  do  not 
think,  as  Mr.  Ortlob  does,  that  David  had 
any  degree  of  madness. 

in.  I  think  the  whole  passage  ought  to  be 
understood  of  an  epilepsy,  a  convulsion  of  the 
whole  body,  with  a  loss  of  sense  for  the  time. 
Judge,  sir,  of  the  reasons  on  which  I  ground 
this  third  proposition. 

1.  My  first  reason  is  taken  from  the  original 
terms,  which  perfectly  agree  with  an  epilepsy. 
This  is  not  easy  to  discover  in  our  modern 
versions;  but  it  is  very  plain  in  the  Septuagint, 
and  in  the  old  Latin  version,  which  our  inter- 
preters often  very  injudiciously  despise.  The 
authors  of  both  these  versions  were  in  a  better 
condition  than  we  are,  to  understand  the  force 


PrioUd  in  170a 


and  the  real  signification  of  Hebrew  words  and 
idioms.  I  am  fully  persuaded  we  ought  to 
prefer  these  versions  in  the  present  case. 

David,  said  the  sacred  historian,  changed  his 
behtiviour,  or  his  taste.  The  Septuagint  reads 
it  -;/./ -..-T.  10  )!(>5<r..jT0,,  avTcv^  and  the  Vulgate, 
immutavit  os  sttum,  he  changed  countenance.  I 
think  this  translation  is  better  than  that  of  Mr. 
(Jrtlob,  his  reason  was  changed:  because  it  is 
added,  before  them,  or  in  Ihtir  sight,  and  in  the 
thirty-fourth  psalm,  before  Jlbimtltch,  or  in  his 
presence.  It  is  well  known,  that  the  counte- 
nance of  a  person  taken  with  an  epilepsy  is 
suddenly  changed.  But  should  we  retain  the 
word  reason,  we  might  with  equal  justice  say, 
that  the  reason,  or  the  taste  is  changed  in  an 
epileptic  fit,  because  for  a  few  moments  reason 
is  absent. 

Z.  Our  version  adds,  he  feigned  himself  mad 
in  their  hands.  The  Septuagint  seems  to  me 
to  have  rendered  the  words  much  better, 
':,fxz'e"'' •■"  "^>i -/.lio-iv  x-jT'.v.  fJe  struggled  or 
tossed  himself  in  their  hands.  (For  1  think  the 
preceding  words  in  this  version,  "  in  that  day 
he  feigned,"  is  one  of  those  interpolations, 
which  passed  from  the  margin  to  the  text; 
and  that  the  words,  "•<'  iT^u,u-xi.^.i.  i.-.i  t:<i,  5uf».{ 
T<,  -o>.=  x;,areof  some  other  version,  and  have 
got  into  the  te.xt  as  the  former.)  The  He- 
brew word  halal  is  a  general  term,  which  sig- 
nifies to  agitate  one's  self,  to  sliake,  either  by 
twinkling  like  the  stars,  or  by  applauding  like 
some  one,  or  by  boasting  of  any  thing  of  our 
own,  which  the  Latins  call  jactare,  jactare  se: 
or  by  moving  ourselves  involuntarily,  as  a 
paralytic  man  docs,  or  a  madman,  or  a  person 
in  convulsions,  or  one  in  excessive  joy.  The 
Septuagint  could  not  translate  the  word  here 
bolter  tlian  by  -xfxijpio-xu,  because  rrxf^c-.f.; 
among  the  Greeks*  is  put  for  a  distracted  per- 
son, a  demoniac,  and  because  a  body  irregu- 
larly and  involuntarily  agitated  is  said  -^ip^ci- 
eiCTi:»..  Aristotlef  uses  it  in  the  same  sense. 
Having  said  that  there  seems  somethimr  in  the 
soul  of  an  intemperate  man  beside  reason,  and 
opposite  to  it,  he  adds,  he  is  like  a  paralytic 
body,  the  patient  aims  to  move  the  right  hand 
or  tlic  right  foot,  and  the  left  hand  and  the  left 

foot   move     r-.'jvxvti-.v    <.,     ra     ae.TTît»    -xfx:;tfi-rx.. 

The  only  difference  is,  we  perceive  irregular 
motions  of  the  body,  whereas  those  of  the  soul 
are  invisible.  The  Vulgate  translates  in  a 
manner  more  favourable  still  to  my  opinion, 
et  coilabebatur  inter  manus  eorum,  he  fell  into 
their  hands.  Tlie  term  collabi,  as  well  as  ca- 
dere,  and  corruere,  are  applied  to  the  epilepsy, 
which  the  Hebrews,  like  us,  called  the  falling 
sickness.  All  these  Latin  words  mav  be  seen 
in  this  sense  in  the  first  apology  of  Apuleius.J; 
He  addresses  himself  to  yEmilianus,  his  adver- 
sary, to  justify  himself  from  the  accusation  of 
having  bewitclied  one  Thallus,  who  was  fallen 
extremely  ill  with  an  epilepsy.  Imo  si  verum 
velis,  /Emiliane,  tu  potius  caducus  qui  jam  tot 
calumniis,  cecidisti,  neque  enim  gravius  est 
corpore  quam  corde  collabi,  pede  potius  quam 
mente  corruere,  in  cubiculo  despui,  quam  in 
isto  splendidissimo  cœtu  detestari. 


•  Phavorinu!  in  voce  irxfx^^pci. 

t  Ariilol.  £thicor.  ad  Nichunmcum,  lib.  1.  cap.  13. 

t  Apuleius  Apol.  pro  se  ipso  prima. 


132 


DAVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


S.    ^nd   he    marked   the   posts   of   the  gatts. 
Thig  is  the  version  of  the  late  Mr.  Martin,  but 
allow  nic  to  lay  aside  ail  the  versions  of  our 
modern  divines,  and  even  tlioso  of  the  most 
celebrated  Rabbios,  and  to  abide  by  my  Sep- 
tuagint   and    my    \ulgate.     Tiie    Septuagint 
renders  it  «»"  i-'-n.'  !-■•  t-,  -.-j^-^i  t,  -v/i;,,and 
tlie  Vulgate  says,  et  impingcbat  in  ostia  portia 
and  he  hurt  himself,  or  he  dashed  himself  against 
the  posts  of  the  gate.     Munster"  pretends  indeed 
that  the  Latin  interpreter  first  wrote,  et  pingebat 
in   ostia  portice,   and    that    it  was   afterwards 
changed  into  impingebat;  but  though  this  in- 
genious conjecture  has  been  adopted  by  able 
critics,  yet  it  seems  to  me  futile,  because  on 
the  one  hand  tlie  Vulgate  evidently  follows  the 
Septuagint,  and  on  the  other,  because  the  Latin 
interpreter  would  have  contradicted  himself,  col- 
labebalur  inter  manus  emum,  et  pingebat  in  ostia 
portice,  if  he  fell  into  their  hands  how  could  he 
write,  or  scratch  with  his  fingers  on  the  gate 
or  the  door?     Nor  is  it  necessary  with  the  cele- 
brated Lewis  Capelf  to  suppose  the  change  of 
a  letter,  and  to  say  that  the  Septuagint  reads 
vajaloph,   instead   of  vajetau.     I'lie    verb   tnva 
signifies  to  mark,  to  make  an  imj)ression,  or 
some  print  with  the  hand,  or  an  instrument, 
and    to    shake,  and   make  the  body   tremble 
where   the   mark   is   imprinted.      David    was 
violently  hurt  against  the  posts  of  the  gate,  so 
that  marks  were  left  in  liis  tlesh.     This  signifi- 
cation of  the  verb  is  agreeable  to  the  Chaldean 
language,  in  which  teva  signities  to  tremble,  to 
shiver,  and  in  the  Arabic,  where  the  same  root 
signifies  to  be  troubled  or  astonislied. 

4.  King  Acliish  uses  another  word,  which 
modern  translations  render /uo/,  madman.  Lo, 
t/oa  see  the  man  is  mud.  Have  I  need  of  mad- 
men, and  so  on.  The  Septuagint,  which  I 
follow  step  by  step,  and  the  authors  of  which 
understood  Hebrew  better  than  we,  translates  it, 
x,:u  »i.t;  ;-.i  «  !  -l'^i-iror  and  so  on:  Why  have 
yoir  brought  this  man;*  Do  you  not  see  that 
lie  is  attacked  irith  an  epilepsy?  Have  I  need  of 
epileptics,  that  you  have  brought  him  to  fall 
into  convulsions  in  my  ])resence?  This  single 
testimony  of  the  Septuagint  ought  to  determme 
this  question. 

2.  My  second  class  of  arguments  is  taken 
from  the  scope  of  the  place,  and  1  think,  even 
supposing  the  original  terms  were  as  favourable 
to  the  idea  of  folly  or  madness  as  they  are  to  that 
of  an  epilepsy,  yet  we  should  be  more  inclined 
to  the  latter  sense  than  to  the  former. 

First,  if  there  be  some  examples  of  persons 
frightened  into  lolly  or  madness,  there  are 
more  of  persons  terrified  into  an  epilepsy. 
Among  the  various  causes  of  this  sickness,  the 
author  of  a  book  on  the  subject,  supposed  to  be 
Hippocrates,*  has  given  sudden  fright  as  one 


not  say  to  bo  applauded.     William  the  Xth 
Duke  of  Aquitain,  and  Count  of  Thoulouse, 
declared  himself  atrainst  Innocent  the  lid  in 
favour  of  I'etcr  de  Leon,  an  antipope  who  had 
taken  the  name  of  Anacletus  the  lid.     The 
Duke  had  driven  the  Bishops  of  Poictiers,  and 
of  Limoges,  from  their  sees.     St.  Barnard  wafl 
sent  into  Guienne  to  engage  him  to  reconcile 
himself  to  the  holy  see,  and  to  re-establish  the 
two  bishops,  but  he  could  not  prevail  with  him 
to   be  reconciled  to  the  bishop  of  Poictiers. 
While  they  were  talking  at  the  church  gate, 
St.  Barnard  went  up  to  the  altar  and  said  mass. 
Having  consecrated  the  host,  and  pronounced 
the  benediction  on  the  people,  he  took  the  body 
of  the  Lord  in  a  patine,  and  going  out  with  a 
countenance  on  fire,  and  with  eye»  in  a  flame, 
he  addressed  with  a  threatening  air  these  terri- 
ble words  to  the  Duke:  "  We  have  entreated 
you,  but  you  have  despised  us.     In  a  former 
interview,  a  great  number  of  the  servants  of 
God  besought  you,  and  you  treated  tliem  with 
contempt.     Behold,  now  the  Son  of  the  Virgin 
comes  to  you,  the  head  and  lord  of  the  church 
you  persecute.     Behold  your  judge,  at  whose 
name  every  name  in  heaven,  earth,  and  hell, 
bow.     Behold  the  avenger  of  your  crimes,  into 
whose   hand,  sooner   or   later,  your  stubborn 
soul  shall  fall.     Have  you  the  hardiness  to  de- 
sjiise  him?     And  will  you  contemn  the  master 
as  you  have  done  the  servants?"     The  specta- 
tors were  all  dissolved  in  tears,  and  the  count 
himself,  unable  to  bear  the  sight  of  the  abbott, 
who  addressed  him  with  so  much  vehemence, 
and  who  held  up  to  him  all  the  while  the  body 
of  the  Lord,  fell  all  shaking  and  trembling,  to 
the  earth.     Being  raised  up  by  his  soldiers,  he 
fell  back  again,  and  lay  on  his  face,  saying  no- 
thing and  looking  at  nobody,  but  uttering  deep 
groans,  and  letting  his  spittle  fall  down  on  his 
beard,  and  discovering  all  the  signs  of  a  person 
convulsed  in  an  epilepsy.     St.    Barnard    ap- 
proached, pushed  him  with  his  foot,  commanded 
him  to  rise,  and  to  stand  up  and  hear  the  de- 
cree of  God.     "  The  bishop  of  Poictiers,  whom 
you  have  driven  from  his  church,  is  here;  go 
and  reconcile  yoqrself  to  him;  and  by  giving 
him  a  holy  kiss  of  peace  become  friendly,  and 
reconduct  him  yourself  to  his  see.     Satisfy  the 
God  you  have  offended,  render  him  the  glory 
due  to  his  name,  and  recall  all  your  divided 
subjects  into  the  unity  of  faith  and  love.     Sub- 
mit yourself  to  pope  Innocent;  and  as  all  the 
church  obeys  him,  resign  yourself  to  this  eminent 
pontiff  chosen  by  God  himself     At  these  words 
the  count  ran  to  the  bishop,  gave  him  the  kiss 
of  peace,  and  re-established  him  in  his  see." 

tl.  1  return,  sir,  from  this  digression,  which 
is  not  quite  foreign  to  my  subject,  to  observe, 
in  the  second  place,  that  the   sacred   historian 


It  would  be  needless  lo  multiply  proofs  when  I  attributes  to  David  the  three  characteristical 


a  sorrowful  experience  daily  gives  us  so  many! 
But  I  recolle<:t  one  instance  of  the  zeal  of  St. 
Barnard, §  which  deserves  to  be  relatud,  I  do 


*  Muliilrrui  ill  li.  1.  in  criticis  magnii. — Sec  Bayle 
Achiili.  Rrin.  C. 

f  L.  Ch|iellu»  criCicix  sacra  libro.  iv.  cap.  5.  S.  35. 

i  Hippocralei  -i^i  iifx.  >-,(r-.u.     T.  ii.  S.  xi.  p.  .I.'B. 

^  ViU  Saiirli  Bernardi.  lib.  ii.  cip.  6.  n.  '^6.  Koga- 
vimui  tv,  rt  nprrtiiti  iioi,  aiipplicairit  tibi  in  altrrn 
quaiii  jam  (rcum  habiiimu»,  I'onvmlu  «rryorum  Uri 
unie  Ir  ailunala  mulliliido,  rl  roiiUinp>i'iU.     Ecrc  ad   tv 


marks  of  the  falling  sickness,  falling,  convul- 
sion, and  frothing.     Falling,  for  it  is  said  he 


procrasit  filius  virginis,  qui  est  caput  ct  Dominui 
rcclrtix,  quam  lu  |H;r>cqurris.  AdrsI  Judrx  tuus,  in 
cujus nomine  omne  ernu  curratur  cxlestium,  tcrrrslrium 
ct  infernorum.  AdrsI  liiidci  tuus,  in  cujus  manua  ilia 
anima  lua  devcoirl.  Nun<^uid  i-l  ipsuni  spernes.'  Nuo- 
quid  et  ipsum  ticut  servos  I'jus  conlrmne».' 

Elcvatiis  a  uiililibus,  rursnm  in  faciem  ruil,  nee  auip- 
plam  alieni  loquens,  aut  intrndens  in  aliquem,  taUv%t  tn 
barhrnn  ileJluentUms,  cum  profundis  efllntii  fcmitibui, 
cpilcplii-us  »id(l>ilur. 


DAVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


133 


fell  "  into  the  hands"  of  the  officers  of  the 
king:  convulsion,  for  he  hurt  himself  against 
the  "  posts  of  the  gate:"  and  frothing,  for  he 
let  fall  his  "  spittle  upon  his  beard."  These 
are  symptoms,  which  Isidore  of  Seville  gives 
of  an  epilepsy,"  cujus  tanta  vis  est,  ut  homo 
valcns  concidat,  spumetque.  We  may  see  the 
cause,  or  at  least  what  physicians  say  of  it,  in 
the  work  of  Hippocrates  just  now  quoted,  in 
the  posthumous  works  of  Mr.  Manjol,  and  in 
all  the  treatises  of  pathological  physic.  The 
manner  in  which  Plippocratcs  explains  the 
symptom  of  froth  seems  very  natural,  »cfi-u  Ss 
IX  T6U  cTTo^MToç,  &c.  Thc  frotli,  tiiat  comes 
out  of  the  mouth,  proceeds  from  tiic  lungs, 
which,  not  receiving  any  fresh  air,  throw  up 
little  bubbles,  like  those  of  a  dying  man. 

3.  The  horror  of  king  Achisli  concerning  the 
condition  of  David,  is  a  third  reason,  whicli 
confirms  our  opinion.  "  You  see,"  said  tliis 
prince  to  his  officers,  "  this  man  is  epileptic, 
shall  such  a  man  come  into  my  house?  And 
he  drove  him  away,"  as  it  is  said  in  the  title 
of  the  thirty-fourth  psalm.  According  to  the 
common  opinion,  David  feigned  himself  a  na- 
turaJ,  a  fool,  not  a  madman:  he  did  actions  of 
imbecility,  and  silliness,  not  of  madness  and 
fury.  Now  the  ancients,  far  from  having  any 
avemon  to  this  sort  of  fools,  kept  them  in 
their  palaces  to  make  diversion.  Tarquin  the 
proud  kept  Lucius  Junius  Brutus  in  his  family 
less  as  a  relation  of  whom  he  meant  to  take 
care,  than  as  a  fool  to  please  his  children  by 
absurd  discourses  and  ridiculous  actions.  Ana- 
charsis,  who  lived  about  three  hundred  years 
after  David,  could  not  bear  this  custom  of  the 
Greeks.  This  wise  Scythian  said,  "  Man  was  a 
thing  too  serious  to  be  destined  to  a  usage  so 
ridiculous."!  Seneca,  in  one  of  his  letters  to 
Lucilius,  speaks  of  a  female  fool,  whom  his 
wife  had  left  him  for  a  legacy,  and  wlio  had 
suddenly  lost  her  sight.J  She  did  not  know 
she  was  blind,  and  was  always  asking  to  be  let 
out  of  a  house  where  she  could  see  nothing. 
Seneca  saj's,  that  he  had  a  great  dislike  to  this 
kind  of  singularities;  that  if  ever  he  should 
take  it  into  his  head  to  divert  himself  witii  a 
fool,  he  need  not  go  far  in  search  of  one,  that 
he  would  make  a  fool  of  himself:  and  he  agree- 
ably compares  mankind  witli  their  defects  to 
Harpasta  the  fool  of  his  wife.  Every  body 
knows,  adds  this  philosopher, §  ambition  is  not 
my  vice,  but  we  cannot  live  otherwise  at 
Rome.  I  dislike  luxury,  but  to  live  at  a  great 
expense  is  essential  to  living  in  this  great  city; 
and  so  on.  Pliny  the  younger,  writing  to  one 
of  his  friends,  complained  of  having  misspent 
his  time  at  an  elegant  supper  through  the  im- 
pertinence of  these  fools,  who  interrupted  con- 
versation: he  says,  tiiat  every  one  had  his  own 
whim;  that  he  had  no  relish  for  such  absurdi- 
ties; but  tiiat  some  complaisance  was  necessary 
to  the  taste  of  our  acquaintances. 

It  was  not  the  same   with    madmen,   and 
particularly  epileptics.     Every  body  carefully 


*  Isidor,  Hispalieosis  originuin  lib.  iii.  cap.  7.  De 
chroDJcis  morbis,  voce  Epilepiia.  p.  33.  Col.  A.  lit.  c. 
Hippocrat.  ut  supra. 

f  Apud  Eustathiuin  in  Homerum. 

(  Seneca.  Epist.  30. 

^  Hoc,  quod  in  ilia  videmus,  omnibus  nobis  accidcre 
hqueat  tibi. — Plin.  Ep.  lib.  i\.  17, 


avoided  them,  and  thought,  to  meet  them  was 
a  bad  omen.  Dion  Cassius  says,  the  Roman 
sctiate  always  broke  up,  when  any  one  of  them 
happened  to  be  taken  with  an  epilepsy,  for 
which  reason  it  was  called  morbus  comitialis,* 
witness  these  verses  of  Serenus  Sammonicus: 

Est  subiti  apecies  morbi,  cui  nomen  ab  illo  eit, 
Quod  fieri  nobis  auflragia  justa  rccuiat: 
Saupe  eleniin  membria  acri  Unguorc  caducis, 
Consilium  populi  label  horrenda  diremiU 

Pliny  the  elder,!  who  relates  the  same  thing, 
informs  us  of  another  custom,  that  was,  to  spit 
at  the  sight  of  an  epileptic:  Despuimus  comi- 
tiales  inorbos,  hoc  est,  contagia  regerimus; 
simili  modo  et  fascinationes  repercutimus, 
dexlrojque  clauditatis  accursum.  There  waa 
then  as  much  superstition  in  this  custom  as 
aversion  to  the  illness.  Accordingly  Theo- 
phrastes  lia.s  not  forgotten,  in  his  character  of 
a  suj)erstitious  man,  to  represent  him  seized 
with  horror,  and  spitting  at  meeting  a  mad- 
man, or  an  epileptic. |  This  was  so  common, 
and  so  much  confined  to  an  epilepsy,  that  it 
was  frequently  called  the  sickness  to  be  spitted 
at:  Thus  Plautus,  in  the  comedy  of  the  Cap- 
tives, where  Tyndarus,  to  prevent  Hegio  from 
staying  with  Aristophontes,  accuses  him  of  be- 
ing subject  to  the  illness  that  is  spit  at.§ 

In  this  custom  of  spitting  at  the  sight  of  an 
epileptic,  I  think  1  have  formed  a  very  proba- 
ble conjecture  on  another  famous  passage  of 
Scripture;  but,  sir,  I  shall  do  myself  the  honour 
to  treat  of  this  in  a  future  letter  to  you.  At 
present,  I  avail  myself  of  this  custom  to  explain 
why  Achish  discovered  so  much  indignation 
against  his  courtiers,  and  so  much  disdain  for 
David,  and  why  he  drove  him  so  quickly  from 
his  palace. 

4.  In  fine,  I  think,  it  is  easy  to  see  in  the 
thanksgiving  psalms,  which  David  composed 
after  he  had  escaped  this  imminent  danger, 
several  indications  of  the  nature  of  the  illness 
that  had  seized  him  so  suddenly.  It  is  agreed 
that  he  composed  the  thirty-fourth  and  the 
fifty-sixth  on  this  occasion,  as  the  titles  assure 
us,  and  to  them  I  add  tlie  tliirty-first  and  the 
hundred  and  sixteenth,  concerning  which  1  beg 
leave  to  make  two  remarks. 

First,  tiiat  the  hundred  and  sixteenth  has  so 
much  connexion  with  the  fifty-sixth,  and  the 
thirty-first  with  the  hundred  and  sixteenth, 
that  it  is  very  evident  these  three  psalms  were 
composed  at  the  same  time,  and  in  view  of  the 
same  deliverance:  witli  this  difference,  how- 
ever, that  in  the  fifty-sixth  David  confines 
himself  to  the  malignity  of  his  enemies,  to  the 
])unishment  they  might  expect,  and  to  his  own 
t'onfideiice  in  God,  who  engaged  him  to  despise 
all  their  efforts;  whereas  in  the  thirty-first  he 
expresses  more  clearly  the  terror  which  had 
been  e.xcited  in  him  by  the  conversation  of 
.\chish  and  his  officers,  and  the  prayers  which 
he  had  addressed  to  the  Lord  in  his  distress. 
In  the  hundred  and  sixteenth  he  attends  more 
to  tlie  success  of  tliese  prayers,  and  to  the  gra- 
titude he  felt  for  deliverance  from  his  great 
danger,  and  to  the  profound  impression  which 


*  Dio  Cassius.  lib.  37. 
\  Plin.  lib.  xxviii.  cap.  4. 

f  Theophrastej  Charact.     7ro(i  SttiriSaificvix;, 
\  Plut.  Capt.  Act.  iii.  Seen.  4.  rer.  15,  &c.  morbus  qui 
iosputatur. 


134 


DAVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


his  late  Bituation  had  made  on  his  mind.  A 
bare  parallel  of  these  three  hymns  discovers  a 
great  resemblance  both  in  sentiment  and  ex- 
pression. Compare  Ps.  Ivi.  verses  5.  9.  1 1 — 
14,  with  cxvi.  8.  12,  13.  1".  14.  18.  8.  9.— and 
cxvi.  1—3.  11.  16,  with  xxxi.  23,  24.  3.  10,  1 1. 
23.  n. 

The  second  observation  I  make  on  the  thirty- 
first  and  hundred  and  sixteenth  ])sahn  is,  that 
they  perfectly  agree  witii  the  occasion  of  the 
two  other  psalms,  and  tiiat  some  passages  seem 
to  refer  to  the  supposed  epileptic  fit.  The 
cause  is  remarked  Ps.  xxxi.  10,  11.  14.  The 
effects  and  consequences  are  spoken  of  in  the 
same  psalm,  ver.  12,  13.  The  condition  to 
which  the  illness  had  reduced  David  is  de- 
scribed Ps.  cxvi.  11.— Ps.  xxxi.  23,  (22  in  the 
English  version,)  "  I  said  in  my  haste,  1  am  cut 
off  from  before  thine  eyes.  All  men  are  liars." 
However  the  Hebrew  words  rendered  in  my 
hastt  be  translated,  either  with  the  Septuagint 
in  my  ecstacy,  or  with  Symmachus  in  my  swoon 
or  fainting  fit,  or  with  the  old  Italian  version, 
in  my  ^eat  dread,  or  with  St.  Jerome  in  my 
stupefaction,*  either  of  the  senses  supposes  and 
confirms  my  opinion.  Suidas  explains  the  word 
ecstacy,  which  the  Septuagint  uses  here  by 
ixMfitnf,;;  X».  :«).>.ci^Mri,.  This  last  word  is  tlie 
same  as  that  in  the  title  of  the  thirty-fourth 
psalm,  where  David  is  said  to  have  changed 
countenance,  for  so  I  think  it  should  be  trans- 
lated. 

In  regard  to  the  two  psalms  before  mentioned, 
which  were  always  understood  to  be  con)|)osed 
on  this  occasion,  they  both  of  them  furnish  a 
great  deal  to  establisii  our  opinion. 

Ill  the  fifty-sixth  psalm,  there  is  a  verse,  the 
seventli  I  mean,  which  modern  interpreters 
seem  not  to  have  well  understood.  David 
tiiere,  speaking  of  his  enemies,  says,  according 
to  o'lr  version,  "  Shall  lliey  escape  by  ini<|uity? 
In  thine  anger  cast  down  the  people,  O  God." 
I  think  the  words  may  be  rendered,  without 
violence  to  the  original,  O  God,  because  of 
their  iniquity  spue  them  out,  and  cast  down 
the  people  in  thine  anger;!  iiecause  the  Hei)revv 
word  pullitk,  which  in  tiie  conjugation  leal 
signiies  to  escape,  when  it  is  in  the  conjugation 
piet  signifies  to  rumit,  to  reject;  so  the  celebrated 
Rabbi  David  Kimchi  says.  Indeed  the  Ciialdee 
paraphrastj  uses  it  ia  two  places  in  this  sense, 
Lev.  xviii.  28.  25,  "Tiie  land  itself  voniiteth 
out  her  inhabitants — That  the  latul  sjiue  not 
you  out  al.so,  as  it  spued  out  the  nations  before 
you."  Jon.  ii.  10,  "Tiie  fish  vomited  out 
Jonah."  This  word  is  used  in  the  'I'almud, 
which  forl)ids  a  disciple  ever  to  vomit  in  the 
presence  of  his  master;  for,  according  to  this 
Rabinriical  code  of  law,  ho  who  s|)ils  before 
his  master,  is  worthy  of  death.  According  to 
Mr.  d'Arviciu,^  the  Arabians  religiously  ob- 
serve Ibis  custom  to  this  day.  Among  them 
no  man  ever  spits  before  his  superior,  it  would 
be  considered  as  treating  tlieni  with  disrespect 
and  contempt.  The  Ciialdee  paraphrast  un- 
derstood this  psalm  in  tiiis  sense,  and  rendered 
the  passage  thus,  because  of  the  falsehood  that 


*  Ilicrom,  in  K.pitt.  l.'l.'>. 
f  Hiiminoiiil'a  Annotations  on  V%.  Ivi.  7. 
i  Mag.  Lri.   Clialdaic.   Thalm.  et    Kabbiuicum    V.ux 
torf.  in  verb,  pnlleth. 
^  La  Roque  Voyage  dam  la  Palestine,  p.  140. 


is  in  their  hands,  spit  them,  or  vomit  them  out. 
Now,  sir,  would  it  be  improper  to  apply  this 
verse  to  my  explication,  and  to  affirm,  that 
David  here  manifestly  alludes  to  two  of  the 
symptoms  of  an  epilepsy,  which  he  himself 
had  lately  experienced.'  This  holy  man  prays 
to  God  that  his  enemies  might  be  treated  in  a 
manner  which  had  some  resemblance  to  the 
illness  they  had  caused  him;  that  as  he  had 
frothed  and  cast  out  his  spittle,  so  God  would 
spit  or  vomit  them  out  of  his  mouth;  and  as 
he  fell  to  the  ground  through  their  hands,  so 
they  might  be  degraded  and  cast  out.  The 
former  imago  is  used  by  an  inspired  writer, 
Rev.  iii.  16,  "Because  tliou  art  lukewarm,  I 
will  spue  thee  out  of  my  mouth." 

Perhaps,  sir,  you  will  think  another  obser- 
vation which  I  am  going  to  make,  not  suffi- 
ciently solid.  David  says,  while  he  is  cele- 
brating the  deliverance  God  had  granted  nim, 
Ps.  xxxiv.  20,  that  "  the  Lord  keepeth  all  the 
bones  of  the  righteous  man,  not  one  of  them  is 
broken."  It  is  not  worth  while  to  refute  the 
Jews  on  this  article,  for  they  quote  these  words 
in  proof  of  a  little  bone,  which  they  call  luz, 
and  which  they  place  in  the  fonn  of  a  small 
almond  at  the  bottom  of  the  back  bone.  They 
pretend  that  David  had  this  bone  in  view; 
that  nothing,  neither  fire,  nor  water,  nor  time, 
can  destroy  it,  and  that  it  is  the  germ  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  Probably  it  was 
from  this  Jewish  tradition  that  Peter  Lom- 
bard,* the  master  of  the  sentences,  derived  his 
little  piece  of  fiesh,  which  every  man  inherits 
from  the  flesh  of  Adam,  and  which  renders  us 
all  corrupt,  and  on  account  of  which  we  are 
called  the  children  of  Adam.  Much  less  will 
I  pretend  to  dispute  the  application  which  St. 
Jolin  makes  of  tiiis  oracle  to  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  of  whom  it  was  both  predicted  and 
prefigured,  that  not  one  of  his  bones  should  be 
broken,  chap.  36;  Exod.  xii.  46;  Numb.  ix.  12. 
Nothing  hinders  our  taking  this  verse  in  its 
literal  sense.  David  here  blesses  his  God  for 
watching  so  marvellously  to  prevent  him,  that 
in  spite  of  his  violent  ei>ileptic  fit,  and  of  the 
fail,  that  might  have  broke  all  his  bones, 
especially  as  In;  was  so  hurt  by  falling  against 
the  posts  of  the  gate,  as  to  receive  marks  or 
scars  in  his  flesh,  yet  not  one  of  his  bones  was 
iiroken. 

For  the  rest,  if  any  one  should  think  proper 
to  take  occasion,  from  this  one  convulsion  fit, 
to  dispute  the  inspiration  of  the  excellent  psalms 
of  David,  or  only  to  diminish  our  esteem  for 
the  works  or  the  jierson  of  this  prince,  the 
following  considerations  may  set  aside  such  a 
frivolous  objection. 

1.  As  soon  as  the  malady  is  over,  the  mind 
recovers  its  freedom  and  firmness,  and  is  pre- 
sently as  well  as  before. 

2.  Even  sii|)|)osing  frequent  attacks  to  en- 
feeble the  mind,  yet  this  would  not  effect  David, 
for  ho  had  only  one  fit. 

3.  Great  men  have  been  subject  to  this  ill- 
nes,s,  hut  they  have  not  been  the  less  esteemed 
on  that  account;  as  for  example  a  Julius 
Cesar,!  who  was  held  by  his  army  in  more  than 

'  Pet.  Lemb.  lib.  ii.  Diitinct.  .30.  N.  p.  m.  218. 
Transmifit  adam  tnorfiriim  quid  de  substantia  tua  in  cor- 
pore  siliorum,  quando  eo»  procrearit,  lie. 

t  Plutarch  in  Ccure.  T.  i.  (.  715.     Suidu  id  voce. 


DAVID'S  SUPPOSED  MADNESS. 


135 


admiration;  Plotinus  too,  that  celebrated  Pla- 
tonic philosopher,  to  wiiom,  after  his  death, 
altars  were  erected  in  divers  places. 

4.  Far  from  deriving  from  my  explication  a 
consequence  so  unreasonable,  we  ought,  on  the 
contrary,  naturally  to  conclude,  that  there  is  a 
good  and  wise  Providence,  which  knows  how 
to  deliver  its  children  by  means  unthought  of, 
and  even  when  their  ruin  seems  certain.  A 
Christian,  now  afflicted  with  this  sad  disorder, 
may  find  in  our  sentiment  a  solid  ground  of 
consolation.  The  man  after  God's  own  iieart 
had  an  epileptic  fit;  but  he  was  not  the  less 


esteemed  of  God,  and  so  a  Christian  may  rea- 
son, believing  himself  to  be  beloved  of  God, 
and  an  heir  of  his  kingdom,  though  afflicted 
all  his  days  with  this  malady,  provided  he  imi- 
tate the  zeal  and  piety  of  David.  I  submit,  sir, 
all  my  conjectures  to  the  penetration  of  your 
judgment,  and  1  have  the  honour  to  be,  with 
all  imaginable  respect, 

Sir,  Your  most  humble 

And  most  obedient  servant, 

DUMONT. 
Rotterdam, 
September  2,  1726. 


SERIIIOIVS 


REV.   JAMES   SAURIN, 


TRANSLATED 


BY  THE  REV.  H.  HUNTER,  D.  D. 


Vol.  II.— 18 


PREFACE, 

BY  THE  REV.  HENRY  HUNTER,  D.  D. 


The  name  of  Saurin,  as  a  preacher  and  a 
Scripture  critic,  is  so  well  known,  and  so 
highly  respected,  as  to  render  any  panegyric 
or  recommendation  of  mine  altogether  unne- 
cessary. His  great  work,  entitled  "  Discourses 
Historical,  Critical,  Theological,  and  Moral, 
on  the  most  memorable  Events  recorded  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,"  is  in  the 
hands  of  almost  every  Protestant  Divine  who 
understands  the  French  language.  Of  this  the 
first  volume  only  has  been  given  to  the  Eng- 
lish public,  by  a  respectable  layman,  Jolin 
Chamberlayne,  Esq.,  of  the  city  of  Westmin- 
ster, presently  after  the  publication  of  the  ori- 
ginal at  the  Hague,  in  1723.  Unhappily  for 
the  world,  Mr.  Saurin  did  not  live  to  accom- 
plish that  arduous  undertaking:  his  valuable 
labours  being  interrupted  by  the  stroke  of 
death,  before  he  had  quite  finished  the  sixth 
discourse  of  vol.  iii.,  which  contains  the  period 
of  Solomon's  piety  and  prosperity.  The  work 
was,  however,  very  creditably  continued  and 
completed  by  Messrs.  Roques  and  De  Beauso- 
bre.  A  republication  of  Mr.  Chamberlayne's 
volume,  and  a  translation  of  the  other  five, 
would  be  an  important,  and  no  doubt  an  accep- 
table addition  to  English  literature. 

The  late  Reverend  Robert  Robinson,  of 
Cambridge,  has  given  a  very  good  translation 
of  five  volumes  of  the  "  Sermons"  of  "  Sau- 
rin," selected  from  twelve,  of  which  the  origi- 
nal consists;  to  these  he  has  prefixed  "  Me- 
moirs of  the  Reformation  in  France,"  and  of 
"  Saurin's  Life."  This  work  has  been  so  well 
received  all  over  Great  Britain,  that  a  third 
large  impression  of  it  is  already  nearly  exhaust- 
ed: a  striking  proof,  surely,  of  the  author's  ex- 
traordinary merit  as  a  Christian  orator,  espe- 
cially if  it  be  considered  that  this  approbation 
is  expressed  in  an  age  and  a  country  daily  en- 
riched with  original  displays  of  pulpit  eloquence, 
and  whose  taste  is  rendered  fastidious  by  pro- 
fusion and  variety  of  excellence. 

But  the  public,  it  would  appear,  is  still  dis- 
posed to  receive  more  of  Mr.  Saurin's  Ser- 
mons, for  I  have  been  frequently  and  impor- 
tunately solicited  to  undertake  the  translation 
of  what  remains:  a  request  with  which,  I  ac- 
knowledge, I  felt  no  great  reluctance  to  com- 


ply; being  thoroughly  convinced  that  no  com- 
positions of  the  kind  are  more  calculated  to  be 
useful  to  mankind.  By  the  reception  given  to 
tliis  volume  I  shall  be  enabled  to  determine 
whether  it  is  proper  to  desist,  or  to  go  on. 

The  attentive  reader  will  readily  perceive 
that  1  have  made  the  arrangement  of  the  sub- 
jects part  of  my  study.  When  1  found  any  of 
tiie  links  of  my  chain  anticipated  by  my  re- 
spectable predecessor  in  the  works  of  transla- 
tion, I  refer  to  it,  that  those  who  choose  to  read 
in  a  series  may  bo  saved  the  trouble  of  tracing 
it  from  volume  to  volume. 

As  the  originals  are  much  longer  than  the 
generality  of  modern  sermons,  and  as  I  sup- 
pose these  may  probably  be  adopted  by  fami- 
lies as  part  of  their  serious  domestic  reading, 
I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  divide  most  of  them 
into  two,  and  some  into  three  parts,  in  the 
view  of  relieving  the  exertion  of  the  person 
who  reads,  and  the  attention  of  the  hearers: 
introducing  nothing  of  rny  own,  except  some- 
times a  few  lines  of  recapitulation,  where  it 
seemed  necessary  to  connect  the  several  mem- 
bers of  the  subject. 

To  one  advantage  only  over  my  predeces- 
sor, do  I  presume  to  lay  claim,  congeniality  of 
sentiment  with  my  author  on  certain  points  of 
doctrine,  of  riles  and  ceremo7iies,  of  church  dis- 
cipline, and  some  others,  in  which  Mr.  Robin- 
son differs  from  him.  There  must  be  many 
passages,  accordingly,  which  he  disapproved 
while  he  translated;  and  some  sermons  he  pro- 
bably omitted  altogether,  because  they  coin- 
cided not  with  his  religious  belief  Under  this 
disadvantage  I  did  not  labour  in  executing  my 
task;  as  I  agree  in  almost  every  point  with  my 
great  original,  and  possibly  translated  with 
peculiar  satisfaction  what  Mr.  Robinson  had 
reluctantly,  or  saw  it  his  duty  entirely  to 
leave  out.  His  readers  and  mine  will,  un- 
doubtedly, exercise  the  same  right  of  private 
judgment,  and,  I  trust,  practise  the  same  can- 
dour and  forbearance  which  he  and  I  thought 
ourselves  obliged  by  precept  and  by  example 
to  recommend.  H.  H. 

Bethnal-Green  Road, 
24th  June,  1196. 


140 


THE  SONO  OF  SIMEON. 


[Ser.  LXIX. 


SERMON  LXIX. 


THE  SONG  OF  SIMEON. 


Luke  ii.  25 — 30. 
^9nd  beliold  there  was  a  man  in  Jerusalem,  whose 
name  was  Simeon;  and  the  same  man  was  just 
and  devout,  waititig  for  the  comolation  of  Is- 
rael: and  the  Holy  Ghost  was  upon  him.  And 
it  was  revealed  to  him  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  that 
he  should  not  see  death,  before  he  had  seen  the 
Lord's  Christ.  Jlnd  fu  came  by  the  Spirit  into 
the  temple:  and  when  the  parents  brought  in 
the  chiid  Jesus,  to  do  for  him  after  the  custom 
of  the  laic;  then  he  took  him  vp  in  his  arms, 
and  blessed  God,  and  said,  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to 
thy  word:  for  miiu  eyes  have  seen  thy  sal- 
vation. 

"  Now  let  me  die,  since  I  have  seen  thy 
face,  because  thou  art  yet  aHve,"  Gen.  xlvi. 
30.     This  was  the  e.Tclamation  of  an  affection- 
ate father;  might  I  not  have  said,  of  a  weakly 
affectionate  father,  on  a  memorable  occasion 
in  his  life.     If  such  an  emotion  savour  not  of 
heroism,  it  is  at  least  an  effusion  of  nature. 
Joseph  had  been  the  centre  of  a  fond  parent's 
tenderest  affections.     Jacob  had  for  more  than 
twenty  years  been  impressed  with  the  belief 
that  this  dearly  beloved  son  was  devoured  by 
an  evil  beast.      He  displayed  every  token  of 
affliction  that  could  be  expressed  by  the  pater- 
nal heart,  on  tlie  loss  of  a  child,  a  darling  child, 
thus  cruelly  torn  from  him.  Afterso  many  years 
of  mourning,  he  is  informed  that  his  son  is  yet 
alive,  that  he  is  exalted  to  the  most  eminent 
state  of  power  and  splendour  which  the  king 
of  Egypt  could  bestow;    that  he  had  sent  to 
bring  his  father  down  to  him.     Every  instant 
now  appears  an  age  to  the  good  old  man,  till 
the   period  of  their  reunion   arrives.     Every 
thing  that  retards  the  accomplishment  of  his 
wishes  seems   to  defeat  it.     He  trembles  to 
think  on  the  length  of  the  way,  on  the  dan- 
gers of  such  a  journey,  on  his  own  debilitated 
frame.     He  departs  at  length,  he  reaches  the 
desired  haven:    he  beholds  with  his  eyes  tiie 
endeared  object  of  so  many  earnest  prayers. 
He  feels  himself  in  the  embrace  of  his  Joseph,  he 
feels  his  visage  bedewed  with  the  tears  of  filial 
love.     Joy  deprives  him  of  the  powers  of  ut- 
terance, and  with  difficulty  the  faultering  tongue 
can  pronounce  the  words  which  Moses,  if  I  may 
bo  allowed  the  expression,  seems  to  have  de- 
rived from  the  bowels  of  paternal  tenderness: 
"  Now  let  me  die,  since  I  have  seen  thy  face, 
because  thou  art  yet  alive." 

A  greater  than  Jacob,  my  brethren,  or  ra- 
ther a  greater  than  Joseph,  is  here.  Simeon 
had  roc«ived  from  God  the  assurance  of  hav- 
ing his  life  prolonged  till  his  eyes  should  see 
the  promised  Messiah.  On  the  accomplish- 
ment of  that  promise  depended  the  solution  of 
these  anxious  inquiries,  so  interesting  to  the 
wretched  posterity  of  Adam: — Is  there  any 
mitigation  to  be  expected  of  that  fatal  denun- 
ciation, "  in  the  day  thou  eatesl  of  the  fruit  of 
tho  tree  of  good  and  evil,  thou  «halt  surely 
die?"  Gen.  ii.  1".  Did  so  manv  oracles,  which 
«nnounce  a  Redeemer,  prcfc-d  from  God,  or 


from  men?  Is  it  possible  that  the  love  of  God 
should  rise  so  high,  as  to  immolate  his  own 
Son  in  the  room  of  the  guilty?  In  a  word,  is 
the  expectation  of  Israel  well  founded,  or  is  it 
chimerical'  The  promise  is  at  last  fulfilled: 
that  divine  infant  at  last  appears,  whom  God 
had  "  prepared  before  the  face  of  all  people,  a. 
light  to  lighten  the  gentiles,  and  the  glory  of 
Israel,"  Luke  ii.  31,  32.  Already  has  an  an- 
gel of  the  Lord  announced  his  advent  to  the 
shepherds:  already  has  a  multitude  of  the  hea- 
venly host  made  the  air  resound  with  these 
triumphant  strains,  "  glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est, and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards 
men,"  Luke  ii.  14.  Already  have  the  sages 
of  the  east  arrived  to  render  him  supreme 
homage,  as  to  their  sovereign.  What  remain- 
ed to  Simeon,  after  having  seen  the  Saviour 
of  the  world,  but  to  take  possession  of  the 
long  expected  salvation?  He  accordingly  takes 
the  child  in  his  arms:  his  faith  is  now  changed 
into  vision,  and  his  hope  into  enjoyment,  and 
he  in  transport  exclaims,  "  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to 
thy  word,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  sal- 
vation." 

This  devout  rapture  is  to  be  the  subject  of 
our  present  discourse,  and  its  import  we  shall 
attempt  to  unfold,  after  having  made  a  few  re- 
flections of  a  different  kind,  tending  to  eluci- 
date the  text. 

I.    We  are  to  make  a  few  preliminary  re- 
flections, for  elucidating  the  text.     And  here 
it  is  natural,  in  the  first  place,  to  inquire,  who 
this  Simeon  was,  who  acts  such  a  distinguished 
part,  at  this  period  of  the  gospel  history?    But 
all  that  can  be  added  to  the  narration  of  the 
evangelist   is  merely   a  tissue   of  conjectural 
traditions  palpably  false,  or,  at  best,  extremely 
uncertain.     Cardinal    Baronius,*   on   the   au- 
thority of  some  ancient  doctors  of  the  church, 
insists  that  he  must  have  been  of  the  sacerdo- 
tal order.     This  they  attempt  to  prove   from 
the  words  of  the  passage  under  review,  "  He 
took  the  infant  Jesus  in  his  arms,"  as  if  to  pre- 
sent him  to  the  Lord;  an  idea  not  supported 
by  any  one  of  the  circumstances  recorded  in 
the  gospel.     Certain  modern  doctorsf  believe 
him  to  have  been  the  son  of  the  celebrated 
Hillel,  who  was  chief  of  the  sect  of  the  Phari- 
sees.    They  even  go  so  far  as  to  assert,  that 
he  was  the  father  of  that  Gamaliel  at  whose 
feet  Paul  was  brought  up.     With  respect  to  his 
condition,  a  variety  of  fables  are  retailed  de- 
scriptive of  his  person;   such  as  that  he  was 
blind4  and  recovered  his  sight  on  receiving 
our  S.iviour  into  his  arms:  and  that  other,  of 
his  being  one  of  the  interpreters  of  the  Sep- 
tuagint  version;^  that  having  found  many  pas- 
sages which  predicted  that  the  Messiah  was  to 
be   born  of  a  Virgin,  he  refused  to  translate 
them;  nay,  that  he  substituted  the  term  TVoman 
in  place  of  Virgin,  in    translating   the   noted 
prediction  of  Isaiah  vii.  14:  that  having  closed, 
his    tablets,  on  opening  them    to  resume   his 
labour,  he  found  the  word  Virgin  miraculously 
substituted  in  place  of  iVoman;  that  he  besought 


1.  p.  5S.  torn.  1. 
•e  Hcbr.  in  Luc.  ii. 


*  Annal.  Kcclri.  Aotv.  161'i.  A.  C. 

t  ConHiilt  Lighlfool,  toot.  2.  Hoi 
25.  p.  -liW.  Rot.  1686. 

1   Bnroniut  ut  lupra. 

I)  Allatius  dc   Reel.   Occid.  Col.   1648.   Niceph 
Kcrl.  lib.  i.  cap.  'J.  Paris,  1630. 


Ser.  LXIX.] 


THE  SONG  OF  SIMEON. 


141 


God  to  grant  him  an  explanation  of  this  won- 
derful phenomenon,  and  his  prayer  was  an- 
swered: once  more;*  that  havinrr  seen  in  the 
temple  various  women  presentintr  their  chil- 
dren, he  had  distinguisiicd  tiie  holy  Virgin  by 
certain  rays  of  light  which  surrounded  her 
person,  on  which  he  thus  addressed  the  other 
mothers:  "  Wherefore  do  you  present  these 
children  before  the  altar?  Turn  round,  and 
behold  this  one,  who  is  more  ancient  than 
Abraham."  Fictions,  of  no  higher  authority 
than  what  is  farther  related  of  him,  namely, 
that  the  Jew8,1  jealous  of  his  talents  and  vir- 
tues, and,  more  especially,  scandalized  at  the 
testimony  which  he  had  borne  to  .(esus  Christ, 
had  refused  him  the  honours  of  sepulclire:  that 
his  remains,  after  having  reposed  a  long  time 
at  Constantinople, J  in  a  chapel  dedicated  by 
James,  denominated  the  Less,  were  conveyed 
to  Venice^  in  the  thirteenth  century. 

Dropping,  then,  legends  of  such  doubtful 
authority,  let  us  satisfy  ourselves  with  exhibit- 
ing Simeon  under  three  authentic  characters, 
which  while  they  lead  us  to  an  acquaintance 
with  the  man  himself,  will  give  us  an  idea  of 
the  state  of  the  Jewish  nation,  at  the  era  of 
the  Messiah's  birth.  The  first  respects  the 
faith  of  Simeon;  "  he  waited  for  the  consola- 
tion of  Israel."  The  second  respects  his  piety 
and  moral  conduct;  "  he  was  just  and  devout." 
The  third  respects  his  gifts  and  privileges;  "  he 
was  divinely  inspired,  and  it  was  revealed  to 
him  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  he  should  not  see 
death,  before  he  had  seen  the  Lord's  Christ." 

1.  "He  waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel," 
that  is,  for  the  Messiah.  This  phraseology  was 
adopted  by  the  ancient  Jews,  and  is  still  in  use 
among  the  modern.  "  The  years  of  the  con- 
solation,"||  is  a  usual  e.xpression  employed  by 
them  to  denote  the  years  of  the  Messiah.  One  of 
their  most  solemn  oaths  is  that  which  appeals  to 
the  consolation:  and  (ftie  of  their  most  common 
formularies  is  to  this  effect;  "  So  may  I  see  the 
consolation,  as  I  have  done  such  or  such  a 
thing;  so  may  I  see  the  consolation,  as  my  tes- 
timony is  consistent  with  truth."  The  pro-  | 
phets  themselves  employ  the  same  style:  "Com- 
fort ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your  God: 
speak  ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,"  Isa.  xl.  1. 
"  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon  me;  be- 
cause the  Lord  hath  anointed  me  to  preach 
good  tidings  unto  the  meek  ....  to  proclaim 

the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord; and 

to  comfort  all  that  mourn,"  Isa.  Ixi.  1,  2. 
"  Sing,  O  heavens;  and  be  joyful,  O  earth;  and 
break  forth  into  singing,  O  mountains;  for  the 
Lord  hath  comforted  his  people,"  Isa.  xlix.  13. 
It  were  easy  to  prove,  that  these  are  so  many 
oracular  predictions,  which  the  inspired  authors 
of  the  New  Testament,  the  only  infallible  inter- 
preters of  the  Old,  understood  as  descriptive  of 
the  Messiah.  And  proofs  would  multiply  upon 
us  without  end,  were  we  more  particularly  to 
undertake  to  demonstrate,  that  the  title  of  the 
consolation  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  our  Lord 


*  Baronius  ut  supra, 

\  Krom  a  passage  of  Si.  Epiplianius  misunderstood. 
See  Epiph.  torn.  2.  de  Vit.  Proph.  p.  1.50.  Paris,  1622. 

I  Codin.  Orig.  Const,  p.  56.     Lut.  1655. 

6  Tillemout,    Memoir.   EÀ:cles.  torn.  i.  p.  448.   Par. 
16d3. 

II  Lightroot,  in  supra. 


Jesus  Christ:  but  however  instructive  such  re- 
flections might  be  of  themselves,  they  would 
carry  us  too  far  from  the  present  object  of 
pursuit. 

Wo  could  only  wish,  that  the  faith  of  Simeon 
might  assist  you  in  forming  an  idea  of  the  state 
of  the  Jewish  church  prior  to  the  coming  of 
the  Messiah.  Believers,  under  that  dispensa- 
tion, entertained  the  same  expectation  with 
yimeon:  like  him  they  waited  for  "  the  conso- 
lation of  Israel." 

We  by  no  means  presume  to  affirm  that  their 
ideas  on  this  subject  were  exempted  from  pre- 
judice. We  well  know  that  they  assigned  to 
most  of  the  oracles,  which  announced  a  Re- 
deemer, a  sense  conformable  to  the  colour  of 
their  passions.  Isaiah,  who  represented  him 
as  "despised  and  rejected  of  men,"  Isa.  liii.  3, 
had,  undoubtedly,  a  more  just  conception  of 
him  than  the  sons  of  Zebedee  adopted,  Mark 
X.  37,  when  they  requested  of  him  the  most 
distinguished  honours  of  his  kingdom.  Daniel, 
who  predicted  that  "  Messiah  should  be  cut 
ofl',"  Dan.  ix.  26,  entered,  undoubtedly,  much 
more  profoundly  into  the  view  of  his  coming 
into  the  world,  than  Peter  did,  who  having 
heard  him  speak  of  the  death  which  he  was  to 
suffer,  "  began  to  rebuke  him,  saying.  Be  it 
far  from  thee,  Lord:  this  shall  not  be  unto  thee," 
Matt.  xvi.  22;  Job,  who  contemplated  him  by 
the  eye  of  faith,  "  as  standing  at  the  latter  day 
upon  the  earth,"  Job  xix.  25,  26;  and  who 
hoped  to  behold  him  eye  to  eye,  even  after 
"  worms  should  have  destroyed  his  body," 
knew  incomparably  better  the  blessings  which 
he  was  to  purchase  for  mankind,  than  those 
grovelling  spirits  who  expected  from  him  tem- 
poral enjoyments  merely.  Even  those  of  the 
Jews  whose  understanding  was  most  clearly 
enlightened,  had  much  less  penetration  into 
the  mystery  of  the  cross  than  the  meanest  of 
Christians,  and  according  to  the  saying  of  Jesus 
Christ,  "  He  that  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  is,  in  this  respect,  greater  than  John 
Baptist,"  Matt.  .\i.  11,  and  then  all  the  pro- 
phets; nevertheless  they  all  lived  in  expectation 
of  a  deliverer:  they  all  considered  him  as  the 
centre  of  every  divine  grace:  they  all  waited 
for  him  as  "the  consolation  of  Israel."  This 
is  the  first  character  given  us  of  Simeon. 

2.  He  was  just  and  (krout.  The  epithet  jiut 
must  not  be  taken  in  a  literal  and  exact  sense. 
Beware  how  you  give  a  lie  to  revelation,  to 
experience,  to  your  osvn  heart,  whose  concur- 
ring testimony  evinces  that  "  there  is  none 
righteous"  upon  the  earth,  "  no  not  one;" 
imagine  not  that  Simeon  by  his  virtues  merited 
the  privilege  of  "seeing  the  Lord's  Christ," 
and  of  partaking  of  the  fruits  of  his  incarnation. 
The  righteousness  of  Simeon  consisted  in  the 
efforts  which  he  made  to  work  righteousness: 
his  perfection,  in  the  desire  with  which  he  was 
animated  to  go  on  to  perfection,  and  in  the 
regret  which  he  felt  that  his  attainments  were 
so  inconsiderable.  The  sacrifices  which  he 
made  to  God,  derived  all  their  value  from  the 
mercy  of  that  God  who  was  the  object  of  his 
fear.  Let  this  great  principle  of  Christian 
theology  be  deeply  impressed  on  your  minds: 
lose  sight  of  it,  no  not  for  a  moment,  and  be  con- 
stantly vigilant  lest  the  impure  doctrine  of  the 
merit  of  good  works  find  admission  among  you. 


142 


THE  SONG  OF  SIMEON. 


[Ser.  LXIX. 


But  wheTePore  suggest  cautions  to  this  effect' 
Wherefore  should   these   walls  so   frequently 
resound  witli  truths  of  this  class?    My  brethren, 
you  have  so  effectually  excluded,  by  your  cold- 
ness in   the  performance  of  good  works,  the 
doctrine  of  their'merit,  that  there  is  little  room 
to  entertain  tlie  apprehension  of  its  ever  finding 
an  establishment  ia  the  midst  of  us.     .\nd  it  is 
an  undeniable  fact,  that  this  error  has  gained 
no  partisans  in  our  churches;  at  least,  if  there 
be  any,  they  have  kept  themselves  invisible. 
We  have  seen  many  persons  who,  under  the 
power  of  illusion,  imagined  they  had  fulfilled 
the  conditions  upon  wliich  the  promises  of  sal- 
vation are  founded;  but  never  did  we  find  one 
who  advanced  a  plea  of  merit.     But  what  we 
have  seen,  and  what  we  have  cause  every  day 
to  deplore,  and  what  is  involving  multitudes  in 
utter  ruin,  is  our  frequently  deceiving  ourselves 
with  the  belief,  that  because  righteoiisness  and 
the  fear  of  God  are  not  meritorious,  they  are 
therefore  unnecessary.     What  we  have  seen, 
and  what  we  have  cause  every  day  to  deplore, 
is   the    unhappy  persuasion    prevailing    with 
many  who  bear  the  Christian  name,  that  be- 
cause the  advent  of  the  Messiah  is  a  dispensa- 
tion of  grace,  it  gives  encouragement  to  licen- 
tiousness and  corruption.     Let  us  not  employ 
such  ingenious  pains  to  deceive  ourselves. — 
Multiply  without  end,  ye    "  disputera  of  this 
world,"  your  questions  and   controversies,  it 
will  never  be  in  your  power  to  prevent  my 
clearly  discerning,  in  the  doctrine  of  the  gospel, 
this  twofold  truth:  on  the  one  hand,  that  the 
best  preparation   for   receiving   the  reign   of 
grace,  is  that  which  Simeon  made;  "  he  was 
just  and  devout,  and  ho  waited  for  the  conso- 
lation of  Israel."     On  the  other  hand,  that  the 
most  insurmountable   obstacle  which   can  be 
opposed  to  this  reign,  is  impiety  and  injustice. 
"  Prepare  ye   the    way   of   the   Lord,    make 
straight  in  the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God. 
Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every  moun- 
tain and  hill  shall  be  made  low:  and  the  crook- 
ed shall  be  made  straight,  and  the  rough  places 
plain,  and  all  flesh  shall  see  the  salvation  of 
God,"  Isa.  xl.  3;  Matt.  iii.  3;Lukeiii.G.  This 
was  the  voice  of  the  forerunner  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  wherein  did  he  make  this  preparation  to 
consist?  The  preparation  of  him  who  had  "  two 
coals"  was  to  "  impart  to  him  who  had  none," 
Luke  iii.   11.     The  preparation   of  him  who 
had  meat  was  to  act  in  like  manner.     That  of 
the  publicans  was  to  "  exact  no  more  than  that 
which  was  appointed  them,"  ver    13.     That 
of  the  soldier  was  to  "  do  violence  to  no  man, 
to  accuse  no  one  falsely,  and  to  be  content  with 
his  wages,"  ver.  14.     The  preparation  of  all 
was  to  "  bring  forth  fruits  worthy  of  repent- 
ance," ver.  8.      Witiiout  these,  the  reign  of 
grace  was  the  reign  of  wrath:  without  these, 
"  the  axo  was  already  laid  unto  the  root  of  the 
tree;  and  every  tree  wliicli  brought  not  forth 
good  fruit  was  to  i)e  hewn  down,  and  cast  into 
the  fire,"  ver.  9;  and  this   Messiah,  this  Re- 
deemer of  mankind,  was  to  come    with  "  his 
fan  in  his  hand,  thoroughly  to  purge  his  floor; 
to  gather  the   wheat  into  his  garner;   but  to 
burn  the  chaff  with  fire  unquenchable,"  ver.  17. 
Ah!  if  at  this  period  of  the  gospel  dispensa- 
tion, when  we  are  exercising,  in  some  manner, 
tho  functions  of  John  Baptist,  if  in  tliese  d?iys 


wherein  we  come  to  announce  the  revival  of 
the  reign  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  midst  of  us,  by 
tho  celebration  of  his  incarnation  and  birth;  by 
the  connnemoration  which  we  are  to  make 
next  Lord's  day  in  the  sacrament  of  the  supper: 
if  at  this  season,  when  we  are  crying  aloud  to 
you  in  the  words  of  St.  John,  "  prepare  ye  the 
way  of  the  Lord:"  should  you  with  the  multi- 
tudes who  attended  his  ministry,  inquire,  say- 
ing, "  and  what  shall  we  do?"  We  would 
reply,  wait  for  "  the  consolation  of  Israel,"  as 
Simeon  waited  for  it:  "  bring  forth  fruits  worthy 
of  repentance." 

"  Prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord,"  ye  great 
ones  of  the  earth;  lead  the  way  in  a  procession 
of  penitents,  as  the  king  of  Nineveh  did,  when 
the  preaching  of  Jonah  thundered  impending 
destruction  in  his  ears,  Jon.  iii.  4.  9.  "  Hum- 
ble yourselves  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God," 
1  Pet.  v.  6,  "by  whom  kings  reign,  and  princes 
decree  justice,"  Prov.  viii.  15.  Employ  the 
power  with  which  Providence  has  intrusted 
you,  not  in  a  vain  display  of  furniture  more 
magnificent,  or  of  equipages  more  splendid; 
not  by  assuming  a  deportment  more  lofty  and 
intimidating;  but  in  curbing  bold  and  insolent 
vice;  but  in  maintaining  the  cause  of  truth  and 
justice;  but  in  wiping  away  the  tears  of  the 
widow  and  the  orphan;  but  in  rewarding  ser- 
vices rendered  to  the  state;  but  in  procuring 
respect  to  the  solemn  institutions  of  religion; 
but  in  .preventing  the  circulation  of  indecent 
and  corruptive  publications;  and,  as  far  as  in 
you  lies,  in  levelling  to  the  ground  that  mon- 
ster infidelity,  which  is  rearing  its  daring  fore- 
head in  the  midst  of  you. 

"  Prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord,"  ye  pastors 
of  the  flock.  Distinguish  yourselves  from  pri- 
vate individuals,  not  only  by  the  habit  which 
you  wear,  and  by  the  functions  which  you  dis- 
charge; but  by  your  zeal  for  the  church  of 
Christ;  by  your  unshaken  firmness  and  forti- 
tude in  opposing  those  who  impudently  trans- 
gress; but  by  preserving  a  scrupulous  distance 
from  every  thing  characteristic  rather  of  the 
slaves  of  this  world,  than  of  the  ministers  of 
the  living  God. 

"  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord,"  profess- 
ing Christians.  Celebrate  your  solemn  feasts, 
not  only  by  frequenting  our  religious  assem- 
blies, but  by  a  holy  abstinence  from  those  se- 
cret abominations,  and  those  public  scandalous 
practices  which  have  so  long  inflamed  the 
wrath  of  heaven  against  us;  which  even  now 
are  scattering  the  seeds  of  discord  through 
these  provinces;  which  are  draining  the  re- 
sources of  our  country,  which  are  tarnishing 
her  glory,  which  present  to  our  eyes,  in  a  low- 
ering futurity,  vicissitudes  still  more  calami- 
tous and  more  deeply  ensanguined  than  those 
which  have  already  cost  us  so  many  tears,  and 
so  much  blood. 

This,  this  is  the  only  effectual  method  of 
waiting  for  deliverance  and  redemption.  Far 
removed  from  us  be  those  frivolous  terrors, 
which  would  suggest,  that  to  be  subjected  to 
the  yoke  of  Jesus  Christ,  is  to  derogate  from 
his  merits!  And  let  us  not  deceive  ourselves; 
there  is  not  a  single  particular  in  the  system  of 
the  gospel;  there  is  not  a  single  article  of  Chris- 
tian theology,  hut  what  preaches  terror,  if  we 
are  destitute  of  that  righteousness,  and  of  that 


Sir.  LXIX.] 


THE  SONG  OF  SIMEON. 


143 


fear  of  God  with  which  Simeon  "  waited  for 
the  consolation  of  Israel."  In  order  to  our 
having  an  interest  in  the  pardoning  mercy 
which  the  Messiah  has  purchased  for  us,  we 
must  "  fear  God,"  as  Simeon  did;  we  must  be 
just  BM  he  was;  we  must  hold  sin  in  detestation; 
we  must  be  "  of  a  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit," 
Isa.  Ixvi.  2,  because  of  it;  we  must  "cease  to 
do  evil,  and  learn  to  do  well,"  Isa.  i.  16,  IT. 
In  order  to  our  having  an  interest  in  sanctify- 
ing grace  and  in  the  spirit  of  regeneration, 
communicated  to  us  by  the  Messiah,  we  must 
"  fear  God"  as  did  Simeon;  we  must  bo  just 
like  him,  we  must  love  wisdom;  wo  must  "  ask 
it  of  God  ....  nothing  wavering,"  James  i. 
6,  6;  or,  as  the  passage  of  St.  James  to  which 
I  refer  might  be  rendered,  not  halting,  or  hesi- 
tating between  the  choice  of  wisdom  and  folly; 
we  must  not  be  like  "  a  wave  of  the  sea," 
which  seems  to  be  making  a  movement  to- 
wards the  shore,  but  anon  returns  with  impetu- 
osity into  the  gulf  from  which  it  issued. 

Farther,  in  order  to  our  having  a  knowledge 
of  the  doctrines  which  were  taught  by  the 
Messiah,  we  must  "  fear  God"  as  did  Simeon, 
we  must  be  just  like  him;  for  "the  secret  of 
the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him;  and  he 
will  show  them  his  covenant,"  Ps.  xxv.  14, 
and  "  if  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God,  or 
whether  I  speak  of  myself,"  John  vii.  17.  In 
order  to  our  having  an  interest  in  the  promises 
of  the  glory  to  be  revealed,  which  are  made  to 
us  by  the  Messiah,  we  must  "  fear  God"  as  did 
Simeon,  we  must  be  just  like  him,  for  "with- 
out holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord,"  Heb. 
xii.  14,  and  "having  these  promises,  let  us 
cleanse  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  the  flesh 
and  of  the  spirit,"  2  Cot.  vii.  1.  If  we  would 
attain  the  assurance  of  salvation,  we  must 
*'  fear  God,"  as  did  Simeon,  we  must  be  just 
like  him:  "  Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth, 
take  heed  lest  he  fall,"  1  Cor.  x.  12,  and  "if 
God  spared  not  the  natural  branches,  take 
heed  lest  he  also  spare  not  thee,"  Rom.  xi.  21. 

3.  Finally,  we  are  informed  by  the  evange- 
list, that  "  the  Holy  Ghost  was  upon  Simeon; 
and  it  was  revealed  to  him  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
that  he  should  not  see  death,  before  he  had 
seen  the  Lord's  Christ." 

On  this  particular,  I  shall  confine  myself  to 
a  single  reflection.  It  supplies  us  with  an  ex- 
plication of  several  ancient  oracles,  and  parti- 
cularly that  of  the  prophet:  "  And  it  shall 
come  to  pass  afterward,  that  I  will  pour  out 
my  Spirit  upon  all  flesh,  and  your  sons  and 
your  daughters  shall  prophecy,  your  old  men 
shall  drcajn  dreams,  your  young  men  shall  see 
visions,"  Joel  ii.  23.  The  Jews  themselves 
acknowledge,*  that  the  spirit  of  propliecy  was 
one  of  the  prerogatives,  which  had  been  denied 
to  the  second  temple.  This  gift  seems  to  have 
expired  with  Malachi.  For  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  more  than  four  hundred  years  no  pro- 
phet had  arisen.  This  high  privilege  was  not 
to  be  restored  to  the  church  till  the  latter  days 
should  come;  and  conformably  to  the  style  of 
the  Old  Testament,  the  latter  days  denote  the 
dispensation  of  the  Messiah.     Here  then,  we 


*  Talmad  Hi«ros.  Taanith,  fol.  ?i.  1.  Babylon.  Joma, 
fol.  xxi.  2. 


have  the  commencement  of  the  latter  day». 
Here  we  behold  the  prophetic  illumination  re- 
appearing in  all  its  lustre.  Here  the  hallowed 
fire  is  rcKindling,  and  celestial  revelations  en- 
lighten a  dark  world.  These  exalted  privilege* 
are  communicated  first  to  Zacharias,  who  bo- 
holds  an  angel  of  the  Lord  "  standing  on  the 
right  side  of  the  altar  of  incense,"  Luke  i.  11. 
They  are  next  bestowed  on  the  blessed  Virgin, 
whom  the  angel  thus  addresses,  "Hail  thou 
that  art  highly  favoured,  the  Lord  is  with 
thee:  blessed  art  thou  among  women,"  ver.  28. 
They  are  extended  even  to  the  shepherd»,  to 
whom  another  angel  announces  the  birth  of 
the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  who  "  suddenly 
hear  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  praising 
God,  and  saying,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  towards  men," 
Luke  ii.  13,  14.  They  are  poured  down  upon 
Simeon;  and  we  shall  presently  behold  the 
whole  Christian  church  inundated  with  an 
overflowing  flood  of  divine  irradiation.  Let 
this  suffice  as  to  the  character  of  Simeon. 

II.  Wo  are  to  attempt  to  unfold  the  import 
of  the  devout  raptiire  which  he  felt.  And 
here  let  us  give  undivided  attention  to  the  ob- 
ject before  us,  and  let  every  power  of  thought 
be  applied  to  discover,  and  to  display,  the 
emotions  by  which  this  holy  man  of  God  wb» 
then  animated.  He  takes  Jesus  Christ  in  his 
arms:  he  blesses  God,  and  says,  "  Lord,  now 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  ac- 
cording to  thy  word;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  "  Lettest  thou  thy  servant  de- 
part:" the  Greek  phrase  literally  rendered,  is, 
thou  unloosest,  or  settest  free  thy  servant.  The 
sense  of  the  expression  cannot,  in  my  appre- 
hension, be  disputed  in  this  place.  To  un- 
loose, in  the  writings  of  certain  profane  au- 
thors, and  the  meaning  is  the  same  in  our  text, 
signifies  that  act  of  Deity  which  separates  the 
soul  from  the  body.  Thou  liberatest  thy  servant 
in  peace,  that  is,  thmi  pemiittest  thy  servant  to 
die  in  peace.  This  object  which  strikes  the 
eye  of  Simeon,  is  to  him  a  complete  security 
against  the  terrors  of  death.  Wherefore  should 
he  wish  to  live  longer  in  this  world?  Could  it 
be  to  behold  some  wonderful  event,  or  to  ac- 
quire some  valuable  possession?  But  his  whole 
soul  is  rapt  in  admiration  of  the  object  with 
which  his  eyes  are  feasted;  the  delight  he  feels 
in  contemplating  the  Redeemer,  "  the  Lord's 
Christ,"  absorbs  every  faculty.  Could  the  fear 
of  the  punishment  of  sin  suggest  a  wish  to  live 
longer?  He  holds  in  his  arms  the  victim  which 
is  going  to  be  offered  up  to  divine  justice. 
Could  he  desire  longer  life  from  any  doubt  he 
entertained  respecting  the  doctrine  of  a  life  to 
come?  He  is  at  the  very  source  of  life,  and 
needs  only  to  be  released  from  a  mortal  body, 
to  arrive  at  immortality.  Three  sources  of 
meditation,  well  worthy,  I  am  bold  to  say,  of 
all  the  attention  you  are  able  to  bestow. 

1.  The  desire  of  beholding  some  wonderful 
and  interesting  event,  is  one  of  the  most  usual 
causes  of  attachment  to  life.  There  are  cer- 
tain fixed  points,  in  which  all  our  hopes  seem 
to  be  concentrated.  Nothing  is  more  common 
among  men,  even  among  those  whose  charac- 
ter as  Christians  is  the  least  liable  to  suspicion, 
than  to  say,  could  I  but  live  to  see  such  and 
i  such  an  event  take  place,  I  should  die  content' 


144 


THE  SONG  OF  SLMEON. 


[Ser.  LXIX. 


could  I  but  live  to  see  that  adversary  of  the 
church  confounded:  could  I  but  live  to  see  that 
mystery  of  Providence  unfolded:  could  I  but 
live  to  see  Zion  arise  out  of  her  ruins,  and  the 
chains  of  her  bondmen  broken  asunder:  could 
I  but  live  to  see  my  son  attain  such  and  such  a 
period.  Such  emotions  are  not  in  every  case 
to  be  condemned  as  unlawful;  but  how  much 
do  they  frequently  savour  of  human  infirmity! 
Let  it  be  our  study  to  die  in  peace  with  God, 
and  we  shall  be  disposed  to  die,  whenever  it 
shall  please  him,  who  has  sent  us  into  the 
world,  to  call  us  out  of  it  again. 

Death  draws  aside  the  curtain,  which  con- 
ceals from  our  eyes  what  is  most  worthy  of  our 
regard,  of  our  desire,  of  our  admiration.  If 
thou  diest  in  a  state  of  reconciliation  with  God, 
thine  eyes  shall  behold  events  infinitely  more 
interesting  and  important  than  all  those  which 
can  suggest  a  wish  to  continue  longer  in  this 
world.  Thou  shall  behold  something  unspeaka- 
bly greater  than  the  solution  of  some  particular 
mystery  of  Providence:  thou  shalt  discern  a  uni- 


nearer  view  of  the  person  of  whom  bo  lofty  an 
idea  is  conveyed  from  preparations  so  magnifi- 
cent' All  these  preparations,  however,  are  in 
many  cases,  not  so  much  the  badges  of  the  real 
greatness  of  the  personage  whom  they  an- 
nounce, OB  of  his  vanity.  It  has  oftener  than 
once  been  felt,  that  the  object  of  the  least  im- 
portance in  a  splendid  procession,  was  the  very 
man  who  acted  as  the  hero  of  it.  But  what 
could  the  Levitical  dispensation  fumish,  to 
convey  an  idea  of  the  Messiah,  but  what  fell 
infinitely  short  of  the  Messiah  himself? 

Simeon  at  length  beholds  this  Messiah,  80 
eagerly  expected  through  so  many  ages.  Si- 
meon, more  highly  favoured  than  Jacob,  who, 
on  his  dying  bed  exclaimed,  "  I  have  waited  for 
thy  salvation,  O  Lord!"  Gen.  xlix.  8.  Simeon 
exulting,  says,  "  Lord,  I  have  seen  thy  salva- 
tion:" more  highly  favoured  than  so  many 
kings,  and  so  many  prophets,  who  desired  to 
see  the  Redeemer,  but  did  not  see  him,  Luke 
xi.  24,  more  highly  privileged  than  so  many 
believers  of  former  ages,  who  saw  only  the 


versallight,  which  shall  dispel  all  thy  doubts,  re-    promises  of  him    "afar  off,    and    embraced 
solve  all  thy  difficulties,  put  to  flight  all  thy  dark-    ''        •«  ^'^  •      ■    .^  •  ..       ^    .     ^ 

ness.  Thou  shalt  behold  something  incompa- 
rably surpassing  the  confusion  of  those  tyrants, 
whose  prosperity  astonishes  and  offends  thee: 
thou  shalt  behold  Jesus  at  the  right  hand  of 
his  Father,  holding  "a  rod  of  iron,"  ready  to 
"  dash  in  pieces,  like  a  potter's  vessel,"  Ps.  ii. 
9,  all  those  who  dare  qppose  his  empire.  Thou 
shalt  behold  something  incomparably  more 
sublime  than  the  dust  of  Zion  reanimated: 
thou  shalt  behold  the  "new  Jerusalem,"  of 
which  "  God  and  the  Lamb,"  are  the  sun  and 
temple;  Rev.  xxi.  2.  22,  23.  Thou  shalt  be- 
hold something  incomparably  more  interesting 
than  the  chains  of  the  bondmen  broken  asun- 
der: thou  shalt  behold  the  souls  of  a  thousand 
martyrs  invested  with  white  robes.  Rev.  vi.  11, 
because  they  fought  under  the  banner  of  the 
cross:  thou  shalt  hear  them  crying  one  to  an- 
other; "  Alleluia:  for  the  Lord  God  omnipo- 
tent reigneth.  Let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  and 
give  honour  to  him;  for  the  marriage  of  the 
Lamb  is  come,  and  his  wife  hath  made  herself 
ready,"  Rev.  xix.  6,  7.  Thou  shalt  behold 
something  incomparably  more  interesting  than 
the  establishment  of  that  son,  the  object  of  so 
many  tender  affections:  thou  shalt  behold  those 
multitudes  of  glorified  saints  who  are  eternally 


them,"  Heb.  xi.  13,  he  receives  the  effiect  of 
those  promises;  he  contemplates,  not  afar  off, 
but  nigh,  "the  star  which  was  to  come  out  of 
Jacob,"  Numb.  xxiv.  17,  he  beholds  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  prophecies,  "  Christ  the 
end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one 
that  believeth,"  Rom.  x.  4,  the  ark,  the  She- 
chinah,  the  habitation  of  the  Deity  in  his  tem- 
ple, he  in  whom  "  all  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head dwelleth  bodily,"  Col.  ii.  9,  he  sees  the 
manna,  and  more  than  the  manna,  for  "  your 
fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the  wilderness  and  are 
dead,"  John  vi.  58,  but,  "  whoso  eateth  my 
flesh  and  drinketh  my  blood,  hath  eternal  life," 
ver.  54.  "  Father  of  day,"  exclaimed  a  Pagan 
prince,  "  thou  radiant  Sun,  I  thank  thee  that 
before  I  leave  the  world,  I  have  had  the  felicity 
of  seeing  Cornelius  Scipio  in  my  kingdom  and 
palace;  now  I  have  lived  as  long  as  I  can  de- 
sire." It  is  the  very  emotion  with  which  Si- 
meon is  animated:  he  has  lived  long  enough, 
because  he  has  seen  "  the  salvation  of  God." 
Let  the  Roman  republic  henceforth  extend  her 
empire,  or  let  its  limits  be  contracted;  let  the 
great  questions  revolving  in  the  recesses  of 
cabinets  be  determined  this  way  or  that;  let  the 
globe  subsist  a  few  ages  longer,  or  crumble  im- 
mediately into  dust;  Simeon  has  no  desire  to 


to  partake  with  thee  in  the  felicity  of  the  over    see  any  thing  farther:  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou 


blessed  God:  thine  eyes  shall  behold  that  ado 
rablo  face,  the  looks  of  which  absorb,  if  I  may 
use  the  expression,  all  those  of  the  creature. 

Let  it  be  admitted,  at  the  same  time,  that  if 
ever  any  one  could  be  justified  in  expressing  a 
wish  to  have  the  hour  of  death  deferred,  it 
was  in  the  case  of  those  believers,  who  lived 
at  the  period  when  the  Messiah  was  expected. 
This  was  the  case  with  Simeon.  Brought  up 
under  an  economy  in  which  every  thing  was 
mysterious  and  emblematical,  he  is  justifiable, 
should  he  have  expressed  a  wish  to  see  the  elu- 
cidation of  all  these  Facred  enigmas.  When  a 
prince  is  expected  to  visit  one  of  our  cities; 
when  we  behold  the  sumptuous  equipages  by 
which  he  is  preceded,  the  train  of  messengers 
who  announce  his  approach;  palaces  decorated, 
and  triumphal  arche:;  reared,  for  his  reception: 
does  not  all  this  cxcila  a  desire  of  obtaining  a 


thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy 
word,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation." 
Secondly,  Simeon  remains  no  longer  at- 
tached to  life  from  terror  of  the  punishment  of 
sin  after  death.  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin;" 
that  sting  so  painfully  acute  to  all  mankind,  is 
peculiarly  so  to  the  aged.  An  old  man  has 
rendered  himself  responsible  for  all  the  stations 
which  he  occupied,  for  all  the  relations  which 
he  formed  m  social  life,  and  in  the  church. 
And  these  in  general,  become  so  many  sources 
of  remorse.  Generally  speaking,  it  is  not  se- 
paration from  the  world  merely  which  renders 
death  an  object  of  horror;  it  is  tlie  idea  of  the 
account  which  must  be  given  in,  when  we  leave 
it.  If  nothing  else  were  at  stake,  but  merely 
to  prepare  for  removing  out  of  the  world,  a 
small  degree  of  reflection,  a  little  philosophy,  a 
little    fortitude,  might  answer    the  purpose. 


Ser.  LXIX.] 


THE  SONG  or  SIMEON. 


145 


What  is  the  amount  of  human  life,  especially 
to  a  man  arrived  at  a  certain  period  of  existence? 
What  delight  can  an  old  man  find  in  society, 
after  his  memory  is  decayed,  after  his  senses 
are  blunted,  after  the  fire  of  imagination  is  e.\- 
tinguislied,  when  he  is  from  day  to  day  losing 
one  faculty  after  another,  when  he  is  reduced 
BO  low  as  to  be  the  object  of  forbearance  at 
most,  if  not  that  of  universal  disgust  and  dere- 
liction? J3ut  the  idea  of  fourscore  years  passed 
in  hostility  against  God,  but  the  idea  of  a  thou- 
sand crimes  starting  into  light,  and  calling  for 
veno'cance;  by  their  number  and  their  atrocity 
exciting  "  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment" — 
this,  this  presents  a  just  ground  of  terror  and 
astonishment. 

liut  all  such  terrors  disappear  in  the  eyes  of 
Simeon;  he  knows  the  end  for  which  this  child 
was  born,  whom  ho  now  holds  in  his  arms:  he 
directs  his  eyes  beyond  the  cradle,  to  his  cross; 
by  means  of  the  prophetic  illumination  which 
was  upon  him,  he  perceives  this  Christ  of  God 
"making  his  soul  an  oficring  for  sin,"  Isa.  liii. 
10.  He  expects  not,  as  did  his  worldly-minded* 
countrymen,  a  temporal  kingdom;  he  forms  lar 
juster  ideas  of  the  glory  of  the  Messiah;  he  con- 
templates him  "spoiling  principalities  and  pow- 
ers, making  a  show  of  them  openly,  nailing 
them  to  his  cross,"  Col.  ii.  15.  Let  us  not  be 
accused  of  having  derived  these  ideas  from  the 
schools,  and  from  our  courses  of  theological 
study:  no,  we  deduce  this  all  important  truth 
immediately  from  the  substance  of  the  gospel. 
Ponder  seriously,  I  beseech  you,  what  Simeon 
himself  says  to  Mary,  as  he  showed  to  her  the 
infant  Jesus:  "  Beliold  this  child  is  set  for  the 
falling  and  rising  again  of  many  in  Israel;  and 
for  a  sign  which  shall  be  spoken  against:  yea, 
a  sword  shall  pierce  through  thy  own  soul  also," 
Luke  ii.  34,  35. 

What  could  be  meant  by  that  stcord  with 
which  the  mother  of  our  Lord  was  to  have  her 
"  soul  pierced  through?"  That  anguish,  un- 
doubtedly, which  she  should  undergo,  on  seeing 
her  Son  nailed  to  a  cross.  What  an  object  for 
a  mother's  eye!  Who  among  you ,  my  brethren, 
has  concentrated  every  anxious  care,  every  ten- 
der affection  on  one  darling  object,  say  a  be- 
loved child,  whom  he  fondly  looks  to,  as  his 
consolation  in  adversity,  as  the  glory  of  his 
family,  as  the  support  of  his  feeble  old  age? 
Let  him  be  supposed  to  feel  what  no  power  of 
language  is  able  to  express:  let  him  put  himself 
in  the  place  of  Mary,  let  that  beloved  child  be 
supposed  in  the  place  of  Jesus  Christ:  faint 
image  still  of  the  conllict  which  nature  is  pre- 
paring for  that  tender  mother:  feeble  com- 
mentary on  the  words  of  Simeon  to  Mary, 
"yea,  a  sword  shall  pierce  through  thy  own 
soul  also."  Mary  must  lose  that  son  whose 
birth  was  announced  to  her  by  an  angel  from 
heaven;  that  Son  on  whose  advent  the  celestial 
hosts  descended  to  congratulate  the  listening 
earth;  that  Son  whom  so  many  perfections, 
whom  such  ardour  of  charity,  whom  benefits  so 
innumerable  should  have  for  ever  endeared  to 
mankind:  already  she  represents  to  herself  that 
frightful  solitude,  that  state  of  universal  deser- 
tion in  which  the  soul  finds  itself,  when,  having 
been  bereaved  of  all  that  it  held  dear,  it  feels 
as  if  the  whole  world  were  dead,  as  if  nothing 
else  remained  in  the  vast  universe,  as  if  every 

Vol.  II.— 19 


thing  that  communicated  motion  and  life  had 

been  annihilated. 

And  through  what  a  path  was  she  to  behold 
this  Son  departing  out  of  the  world?  By  a  spe- 
cies of  martyrdom,  the  bare  idea  of  which  scares 
the  imagination.  She  beholds  those  bountiful 
liands  which  had  so  frequently  fed  the  hungry, 
which  had  |)erformed  so  many  miracles  of  mer- 
cy, pierced  through  with  nails:  slie  beholds  that 
royal  head,  which  would  have  shed  lustre  on 
the  diadem  of  the  universe,  crowned  with 
thorns,  and  that  arm,  destined  to  wield  the 
si'cptre  of  tlie  world,  bearing  a  reed,  the  emblem 
of  n)ock-majesty;  she  beholds  that  temple  in 
which  "  dwellcth  all  the  fulness  of  the  godhead 
bodily,"  Col.  ii.  0,  with  all  his  wisdom,  with  all 
his  illumination,  with  all  his  justice,  with  all 
his  mercy,  willi  all  the  perfections  which  enter 
into  tiie  Jiolion  of  the  supreme  Being;  she  be- 
holds it  assaulted  with  a  profane  hatchet,  and 
an  impious  spear:  she  hears  the  voices  of  the 
children  of  Edom  crying  aloud,  concerning  this 
august  habitation  of  the  Most  High,  "  Kase  it, 
rase  it,  even  to  the  foundation  thereof" 

But  if  even  then,  while  she  beholds  Jesus 
expiring,  she  could  have  been  permitted  to  ap- 
proach liim,  to  comfort  him,  to  collect  the  last 
sigh  of  that  departing  spirit!  Could  she  but 
have  embraced  that  dearly  beloved  Son,  to 
bathe  him  with  her  tears,  and  bid  .him  a  last 
farewell!  Could  she  but  for  a  few  moments 
have  stopped  that  precious  fluid  draining  off  in 
copious  streams,  and  consuming  the  sad  remains 
of  exhausted  nature!  Could  sJie  but  have  been 
permitted  to  support  that  sacred,  sinking  head, 
and  to  pour  balm  into  his  wounds!  But  she 
must  submit  to  the  hand  of  violence:  she  too  is 
borne  down  by  "  the  power  of  darkness,"  Luke 
xxii.  53.  She  has  nothing  to  present  to  the 
expiring  sufferer  but  unavailing  solicitude,  and 
fruitless  tears:  "  a  sword  shall  pierce  through 
thy  own  soul  also:"  Simeon  understood,  then, 
the  mystery  of  the  cross:  he  looked  to  the  effi- 
cacy of  that  blood  which  was  to  be  shed  by  the 
Redeemer  whom  he  now  held  in  his  arms,  and 
under  that  holy  impression  exclaims,  "Lord, 
now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
according  to  tliy  word,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation." 

3.  Finally,  Simeon  no  longer  feels  an  attach- 
ment to  this  world,  from  any  doubt  or  suspicion 
he  entertained  respecting  the  doctrine  of  a  life 
to  come.  He  is  now  at  the  very  fountain  of 
life,  and  all  that  now  remains  is  to  be  set  free 
from  a  mortal  body,  in  order  to  altaiu  immor- 
tality. We  may  deduce,  from  the  preparations 
of  grace,  a  conclusion  nearly  similar  to  that 
which  we  draw  from  the  preparations  of  nature, 
in  order  to  establish  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
state  of  eternal  felicity.  How  magnificent  are 
the  preparations  which  nature  makes!  What 
glory  do  they  promise  after  death!  The  author 
of  our  being  has  endowed  the  human  soul  with 
an  unbounded  capacity  of  advancing  from 
knowledge  to  knowledge,  from  sensation  to 
sensation.  I  make  free  here  to  borrow  the 
thought  of  an  illustrious  modern  author:*  "  A 
perpetual  circulation,"  says  he,  "  of  the  same 
objects,  were  they  subject  to  no  other  incon- 
venience, would  bo  sufficient  to  give  us  a  dis- 

*  Mentor,  torn,  iii.  Disc.  cxli.  p.  340. 


146 


THE  SONG  OF  SLMEON. 


[Ser.  LXn, 


gust  of  the  world.  Wlion  a  man  lias  behold 
frcfjucntly  reiterated  vicis»<itiides  of  day  and 
night,  of  sununcr  and  winter,  of  spring  and  au- 
tunni;  in  a  word,  of  tlie  dillcrent  a)>|)caranccs 
of  nature,  what  is  there  liere  below  cai>able  of 
satisfying  tlie  mind?  1  am  well  aware,"  adds 
he,  "how  brilliant,  how  mairnificent  this  spec- 
tacle is,  I  know  how  possible  it  is  to  indulge  in 
it  with  a  steady  and  increasing  delight;  but  I 
likewise  know  that,  at  length,  the  continual 
recurrence  of  the  same  images  cloys  the  ima- 
gination, which  is  eagerly  looking  forward  to 
the  removal  of  tlie  curtain,  that  it  may  con- 
template new  scenes,  of  which  it  can  catch  only 
a  confused  glimpse  in  the  dark  perspective  of 
futurity.  Death,  in  this  point  of  view,  is  a 
transition  merely  from  one  scene  of  enjoyment 
to  another.  If  present  object-s  fatigue  and  ex- 
cite disgust,  it  is  only  in  order  to  prepare  the 
soul  for  enjoying,  more  exquisitely,  pleasures 
of  a  différent  nature,  ever  new,  and  ever  satis- 
fying." 

The  conclusion  deducible  from  the  prepara- 
tions of  nature,  may  likewise  be  derived  from 
the  preparations  of  grace.  Let  us  not  lose  sight 
of  our  leading  object.  How  magnificent  had 
the  preparations  of  grace  appeared  in  the  eyes 
of  Simeon!  This  we  have  already  hinted:  the 
whole  of  the  Levitical  dispensation  consisted  of 
preparations  for  tlie  appearance  of  the  Messiah; 
if  we  form  a  judgment  of  the  blessings  which 
he  was  to  bestow  upon  the  human  race,  from 
the  representations  "given  us  of  him,  it  is  im- 
possiitlc  to  refrain  frotn  drawing  this  conclusion. 
That  the  Messiah  was  to  give  unbounded  scope 
to  the  desires  of  the  heart  of  man,  was  to  com- 
municate to  him  that  unspeakable  felicity,  for 
the  enjoyment  of  which  nature  had  already 
prepared  him,  but  which  nature  had  not  the 
power  to  bestow.  There,  1  mean  in  the  Le- 
vitical dispensation,  you  found  the  shadows 
which  retraced  the  Messiah;  there  you  found 
types  which  represented  him;  there  oracles 
which  predicted  him;  there  an  exhibition  in 
which  were  displayed  his  riciics,  his  pomp,  his 
magnificence;  there  you  heard  the  pro[)hets 
crying  aloud:  "  Drop  down,  ye  heavens,  from 
above,  and  let  the  skies  pour  down  righteous- 
ness: let  the  earth  open,  and  let  them  bring 
forth  salvation;  and  let  righteousness  spring  up 
together,"  Isa.  xlv.  8.  "For  unto  us  a  Child 
is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given,  and  the  govern- 
ment shall  be  upon  his  shoulder;  and  his  name 
shall  bo  called.  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  The 
mighty  God,  The  everlasting  Father,  The 
I'rince  of  Peace,"  Isa.  ix.  C.  "  Lill  up  your 
eyes  to  the  heavens,  and  look  ujion  the  earth 
beneath:  for  the  heavens  shall  vanish  away  like 
smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  gar- 
ment, and  they  that  dwell  therein  shall  die  in 
like  manner;  l)iit  my  salvation  shall  be  for  ever, 
and  my  righteousness  shall  not  bo  abolished," 
Isa.  li.  G. 

Now,  what  state  of  felicity  could  possibly 
correspond  to  conceptions  raised  so  higii  by  pre- 
parations of  such  mighty  inii)orL'  What! 
amount  to  nr>  more  than  that  which  the  Mcs- 
siaii  beslnwH  in  this  world?  Wiial!  no  more 
than  to  fre(|uent  these  lemjiles?  What!  no 
more  than  to  raise  th<;se  sacred  son<Ts  of  praise: 
to  celebrate  our  Koleiini  l(:a:jLs:  to  eat  a  little 
breodj  uud  tu  drink  a  little  wuio  al  tlie  com- 


munion table!  And  then  to  die?  And  then  to 
exist  no  more?  And  can  this  be  all  that  salva- 
tion which  the  tiirtU  was  to  bring  fortit?  And 
can  this  be  all  that  ri'^hteoxisness  which  the  skits 
were  to  pour  down/  And  can  this  be  the  dew 
which  </ie  luafem  were  to  drop  doirn  from  abort? 
And  can  this  be  the  whole  amount  of  the 
achievements  of  that  Counsellor,  of  that  Wov/- 
dcrful  one,  of  that  Prince  of  Peace,  of  that  Fa- 
ther of  Eternity?  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy 
servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word, 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation."  Good 
Simeon,  what  meaning  do  you  intend  to  convey 
by  these  words?  Into  what  peace  art  thou  wish- 
ing henceforth  to  depart,  if  these  eyes,  which 
behold  the  Messiah,  are  going  to  be  doomed  to 
the  darkness  of  an  eternal  night'  If  these 
hands,  which  are  privileged  to  hold,  and  to 
embrace  him,  are  going  to  become  a  prey  to 
worm.s?  And  if  that  life  which  thou  wast  en- 
Joying  before  thy  Redeemer  appeared,  is  going 
to  be  rent  from  thee,  because  he  is  already  come? 

Ah!  my  brethren,  how  widely  different  are 
the  ideas  which  this  holy  man  of  God  enter- 
tained! "Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant 
depart  in  peace."  Wherefore  7ioiy?  Because 
now  I  know,  from  the  accomplishment  of  thy 
promise,  what  was  before  a  matter  of  presump- 
tion only,  namely,  that  my  soul  is  not  a  mere 
modification  of  matter,  and  a  result  of  the 
arrangement,  and  of  the  harmony  of  my  organs: 
because  I  am  now  convinced,  that  this  soul  of 
mine,  on  being  separated  from  the  body,  shall 
not  become  a  forlorn  wanderer  in  a  strange  and 
solitary  land:  because  nom  I  no  longer  entertain 
any  doubt  rcsj)ectinir  my  own  immortality,  and 
because  1  hold  in  my  arms  him  who  has  pur- 
chased it,  and  who  bestows  it  upon  me:  because 
to  see  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  die,  is  the  highest 
blessedness  that  can  be  conferred  on  a  mortal 
creature. 

I'ermit  me,  my  beloved  brethren,  to  repeat 
my  words,  and  with  them  to  finish  this  dis- 
course: to  see  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  die,  is  the 
highest  blessedness  that  can  be  conferred  on  a 
mortal  creature.  Enjoy,  my  friends,  enjoy  the 
felicity  which  the  Saviour  bestows  upon  you, 
during  the  course  of  a  transitory  life:  gratify, 
as  you  this  day  turn  a  wondering  eye  to  the 
manger  in  which  this  divine  Saviour  lies,  and 
as  you  celebrate  the  memory  of  his  incarnation, 
gratify  tlie  taste  which  you  have  for  the  great 
and  the  marvellous:  and  cry  out  with  an  en- 
raptured apostle,  "  Without  controversy,  great 
is  the  mystery  of  godliness:  God  was  manifest 
in  the  llesh,"  1  Tim.  iii.  16.  Gratify,  as  in 
the  retirement  of  the  closet  you  devote  your- 
selves to  the  study  of  the  doctrine  of  this  Jesus, 
gratify  the  desire  you  feel  to  learn  and  to  know: 
draw  constant  supplies  of  light  and  truth  from 
those  "  treasures  of  wistlom  and  knowledge," 
Col.  ii.  3,  which  he  opens  to  you  in  his  gospel. 
Gratify,  as  you  receive,  next  Lord's  day,  the 
elfusions  of  his  love,  gratify  the  propensity 
which  naturally  disposes  you  to  love  him.  Let 
every  power  of  the  soul  expand  on  hearing  tlie 
lender  expressions  which  he  addresses  to  you 
in  liic  sacrament  of  the  supper:  "Come  unto 
iiic,  all  ye  that  hibour  and  are  heaven  laden, 
and  1  will  give  you  rest,"  Matt.  xi.  -8.  "  lîc- 
hold  1  .stand  at  the  door  and  knock;  if  any  man 
lieti4  my  voice,  ;uid  uiH;n  the  door,  I  will  come 


Ser.  LXX.] 


CHRIST'S  VALEDICTORY  ADDRKSS,  &c. 


147 


in  to  him,  and  will  Bup  with  him,  and  ho  with 
me,"  Rev.  iii.  20. 

But  after  all,  it  is  not  during  tho  course  of  a 
transitory  lifu,  :it  loast  it  is  not  while  you  con- 
Bider  dcalli  as  still  rciiioti;,  that  you  are  i-ai)aljlc 
of  knowing  lliu  i»U'asuro  there  is  in  bciiiir  a 
Christian.  No,  it  is  neither  ia  tho  rctireincut 
of  the  closet,  nor  seated  at  tho  table  of  the 
Lord:  it  is  not  in  your  solemn  feasts,  that  you 
are  capable  of  relishing  the  sweetness  which  is 
to  be  found  in  beholding  Jesus  Christ,  in  cm- 
bracing  him,  in  believing  on  him:  it  is  in  the 
last  moments  of  life;  it  is  when  stretched  on  a 
deatli-bod.  Till  then,  your  passions  will  some- 
times call  it  in  question,  wlietiier  the  man  of 
the  world  docs  not  actually  enjoy  more  hap- 
piness than  the  Christian;  whetlicr  tho  com- 
merce of  society,  whether  s])ectaclcs,  plaj's,  the 
splendour  of  a  court,  do  not  confer  more  real 
pleasure  than  that  which  Hows  from  comnm- 
nion  with  Jesus  Christ. 

But  when  you  shall  find  yourselves,  like 
Simeon,  in  a  state  of  universal  dereliction;  but 
when  you  shall  beliold  nothing  around  you  save 
unavailing  solicitudes,  save  ineffectual  medi- 
cines, save  fruitless  tears,  then  you  will  know 
what  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  is;  then,  my 
brethren,  you  will  taste  the  delight  of  being  a 
Christian;  then  you  will  feel  all  the  powerful 
attraction  of  that  peace  which  is  mentioned  in 
tiie  text:  "Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant 
depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word,  for 
mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation." 

May  these  ideas  of  the  Christian  religion  at- 
tach us  inviolably  unto  it.  Let  us,  with  Simeon, 
embrace  the  Saviour  of  the  world;  let  us,  with 
the  wise  men  of  the  East,  present  unto  him  our 
gold,  and  frankincense,  and  myrrh:  or  rather, 
let  us  present  unto  him  hearts  penetrated  with 
admiration,  with  gratitude,  with  love.  Yes, 
divine  infant,  desire  of  all  nations,  glory  of 
Israel,  Saviour  of  mankind!  divine  infant,  whom 
so  many  oracles  have  predicted,  whom  so  many 
prophets  have  announced,  whom  so  many  types 
have  represented,  and  whose  radiant  day  so 
many  kings  and  prophets  were  desirous  to  be- 
hold: my  faith  pierces  through  all  those  veils 
which  overspread  and  conceal  thee;  I  behold,  in 
the  person  of  a  creature  feeble  and  humbled,  my 
God,  and  my  Redeemer:  I  contemplate  thee 
not  only  as  born  a  few  days  ago  at  Bethlehem 
of  Judah,  but  subsisting  "before  the  mountains 
were  brought  forth,  before  the  earth  was  form- 
ed, even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,"  I's. 
xc.  2.  I  behold  thee  not  only  lying  in  a  man- 
ger, wrapped  in  swaddling  cloths,  but  I  behold 
thee  seated  on  a  throne  of  glory,  "  highly  ex- 
alted," having  "a  name  that  is  above  every 
name,"  adored  by  angels  and  seraphim,  en- 
circled with  rays  of  divinity. 

Every  power  of  my  understanding  shall 
henceforth  be  devoted  to  the  knowledge  of 
thee:  it  shall  bo  my  constant  endeavour  to 
please  thee,  my  supreme  delight  to  possess 
thee;  and  it  shall  be  my  noblest  ambition  to 
prostrate  myself  one  day  before  thy  throne, 
and  to  sing  with  the  innumerable  multitudes 
of  the  redeemed  of  every  nation,  and  people, 
and  tongue:  "  Unto  him  who  sitteth  upon  the 
throne,  and  unto  tlie  Lamb,  be  honour  and 
glory,  and  power,  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen." 


SERMON  LXX. 


CHRIST'S    VALEDICTORY     ADDRESS 
TO  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


John  xiv.  xv.  xvi. 
Lei  not  Tjour  heart  be  troubled:  ye  believe  in  God, 
believe  also  in  me,*  Sfc. 
We  begin,  this  morning,  with  explaining  to 
you  tho  texts  which  refer  to  our  blessed 
Saviour's  passion.  If  tho  knowledge  of  tho 
Christian  be  all  reducible  to  this,  "to  know 
Jesus  CJhrist,  and  him  crucified,"  1  Cor.  ii.  2, 
it  is  impossible  to  fix  your  eyes  too  frequently 
on  the  mysteries  of  the  cross.  Very  few  dis- 
courses, accordingly,  arc  addressed  to  you,  in 
which  these  great  objects  are  not  brought  for- 
ward to  view.  Nay,  more;  it  is  the  pleasure 
of  this  church,  that,  at  certain  stated  seasons, 
the  doctrine  of  the  cross,  to  the  exclusion  of 
every  other,  should  be  tho  subject  of  our 
preaching:  that  all  the  circumstances  attend- 
ing it  should  be  detailed,  and  every  view  of  it 
displayed.  But  whatever  powers  may  be  ap- 
plied to  the  execution  of  this  w'ork,  it  cannot 
possibly  be  accomplished  within  the  space  of  a 
few  weeks.  We  have  especially  had  to  lament 
that  our  Saviour's  last  address  to  his  disciples 
should  be  omitted:  I  mean  the  discourse  which 
he  addressed  to  them,  a  little  while  before  he 
retired  into  the  garden  of  Gethscmane,  and 
which  St.  John  has  preser\'ed  to  us  in  the  xiv. 
XV.  and  xvi.  chapters  of  his  gospel.  This  part 
of  tho  history  of  the  j)^ssion  is,  unquestionably, 
one  of  the  most  tender  and  most  interesting. 
We  propose  to  make  it  pass  in  review  before 
you  this  day,  as  far  as  the  bounds  prescribed  to 
us  will  permit. 

Were  it  proper  to  make  the  place  whero  I 
stand  a  vehicle  for  communications  of  this  kind, 
I  am  ready  ingenuously  to  acknowledge,  that  a 
particular  circumstance  determined  my  choice 
on  this  occasion.  A  few  days  only  have  elapsed 
since  I  was  called  to  be  witness  of  the  dying 
agonies  of  a  valuable  minister,!  whom  Provi- 
dence has  just  removed  from  tho  superintend- 
ence of  a  neighbouring  church.  God  was 
pleased  to  visit  him  for  some  months  past,  if 
we  may  presume  to  sjieak  so,  with  a  "  tempta- 
tion," more  than  "  is  common  to  man,"  1  Cor. 
x.  13;  but  he  granted  him  a  fortitude  more 
than  human  to  support  it.  I  was  filled  with 
astonishment  at  the  violence  of  his  sufferings; 
and  still  more  at  the  patience  with  which  ho 
endured  them;  I  could  not  help  expressing  a 
wish  to  know,  what  particular  article  of  reli- 
gion had  contributed  the  most  to  produce  in 
him  that  prodigy  of  resolution:  "  Have  you 
ever  paid  a  close  attention,  my  dear  brother," 
said  he  to  me,  "to  the  last  address  of  Jesus 
Christ  to  his  disciples?  My  God,"  exclaimed 
he,  "  what  charity!  what  tenderness!  but  above 
all,  what  an  inexliaustible  source  of  consola- 
tion in  the  extremity  of  distress!"    His  words 


*  Those  who  wish  to  derive  benefit  from  the  following 
discourse,  must  previously  peruse,  with  attention,  the  xiv 
XV.  and  xvi.  chapters  of  John's  gospel. 

\  Mr.  Bcgnou,  pastor  of  the  church  at  Leyden. 


148 


CHRIST'S  VALEDICTORY  ADDRESS 


[Ser.  LXX. 


filled  me  with  asioniHhment:  my  llioiijrhtii  were 
immediately  turned  towards  ymi,  my  dearly 
beloved  brethren;  and  I  said  witliiu  myself,  I 
must  furnish  my  hearers  with  tiiis  powerful 
defence  against  suffering  and  death.  1  enter 
this  day  on  the  execution  of  my  design.  Con- 
descend to  concur  with  mc  in  it.  ("omc  and 
meditate  on  the  hist  expressions  which  fell  from 
the  lips  of  a  dying  Saviour;  let  us  penetrate 
into  the  very  centre  of  that  heart  which  the 
sacred  tiame  of  charity  animated. 

I  must  proceed  on  the  sujiposition  that  your 
minds  are  impressed  with  tlie  subject  of  the 
three  chapters  of  which  I  am  going  to  attempt 
an  analysis.  The  great  object  which  our  Lord 
proposes  to  himsell;  in  this  address,  is  to  fortify 
his  disciples  against  the  temptations  to  which 
they  were  about  to  be  exposed.  And,  in  order 
to  reduce  our  reflections  to  distinct  classes, 
Jesus  Christ  means  to  fortify  his  di.sciples, 

I.  Against  the  offence  of  his  cross. 

II.  Against  tlie  persecution  which  his  doc- 
trine was  going  to  excite. 

III.  Against  forgetfulness  of  his  precepts. 

IV.  Against  sorrow  for  his  absence. 

I.  First,  Jesus  Christ  means  to  fortify  Ids 
disciples  against  the  offence  of  the  cross.  A 
man  must  be  a  mere  novice  in  the  history  of 
the  gospel  if  he  know  not  how  extremely  con- 
fused their  ideas  were  with  respect  to  the  mys- 
tery of  redemption.  Those  who  ascribe  to  them 
superior  illunnnation  are  mistaken,  both  in  the 
principle,  and  in  the  conséquences  which  they 
deduce  from  it.  Their  principle  is,  that  the 
Jewish  church  was  perfectly  well  acquainted 
with  the  whole  mystery  of  the  cross;  an  opinion 
supported  by  no  historical  monument  what- 
ever. 

But  granting  we  were  to  admit  this  principle, 
we  must  of  necessity  resist  the  consequences 
deduced  from  it,  with  respect  to  the  apostles. 
It  is  very  possible  to  have  a  clouded  under- 
standing amidst  a  luminous  dispensation,  and 
to  grovel  in  ignorance  be  the  age  ever  so  en- 
lightened. Had  we  a  mind  to  demonstrate  to 
what  a  degree  the  age  in  which  we  live  sur- 
passes those  which  preceded  it,  whether  in 
physical  discovery,  or  in  metaphysical  and 
theological  speculation,  would  we  go  to  collect 
our  proofs  among  our  common  mechanics,  or 
from  among  the  lishermen  who  inhabit  our  sea- 
j)orta' 

Let  us  call  to  remembrance  the  indiscreet 
zeal  of  Peter,  when  Jesus  Christ  declared  to 
him,  "  How  he  must  go  unto  Jerusalem,  and 
suffer  many  things — and  bo  killed,"  Matt.  xvi. 
21,  "  Be  it  far  from  thee,  Lord:  this  siiall  not 
bo  unto  thee,"  ver.  22.  Recollect  the  reply 
which  Jesus  made  to  that  disciple:  "  Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan:  thou  art  an  offence  to  me," 
ver.  »:$.  Recollect  farther  the  question  which 
the  ajKjstles  put  to  their  master  some  time  be- 
fore his  a.scension:  "Ixjrd,  wilt  thou  at  this 
time  restore  again  the  kingdom  to  Israel?"  Acts 
i.  G.  Above  all,  recollect  tlio  conversation 
whicJi  passed  between  certain  of  them  imme- 
diately aflcr  his  resurrection:  "  we  trusted  tliat 
it  had  been  ho  which  should  have  redeemed 
Israel:  and  besides  all  this,  to-day  is  the  third 
day  since  these  things  wore  done,"  Luke  xxiv. 
21.  "  You  trusted  that  it  had  l)ocn  he  which 
should   have   redeemed    Israel!"     Well!     and 


wherefore  trust  no  longer?  Whence  then  arises 
this  diHid(!nce?  \Vhercin  has  his  promise  failed? 
What  oracle  of  the  propheU  has  he  neglected 
to  fulfil?  "  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe 
all  that  tlie  prophets  have  spoken!  Ought  not 
Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to 
enter  into  his  glory?"  ver.  25,  26. 

Taking  it  for  granted,  then,  that  the  apos- 
tles had  but  confused  ideas  of  the  mystery  of 
the  cross,  what  offence  must  they  not  have 
taken  when  they  were  called  to  be  witnesses  of 
that  fearful  spectacle!  From  our  being  ac- 
customed to  hear  the  punishment  of  crucifixion 
spoken  of  in  terms  of  high  dignity,  we  lose 
sight  of  what  was  ignominious  and  humiliat- 
ing in  it.  Represent  to  yourself  a  man  whom 
you  had  made  the  centre,  the  fixed  point  of  all 
your  hopes.  Represent  to  yourself  a  man,  a 
God-man,  to  whom  you  had  been  accustometl 
to  yield  all  the  homage  of  adoration:  repre- 
sent to  yourself  this  divine  personage,  whom 
you  believed  to  have  descended  from  heaven 
to  remedy  the  woes  of  mankind;  to  remove 
your  private  distresses;  to  re-establish  your 
credit,  and  to  restore  to  your  country  all  its 
sjjlendour  and  all  its  importance:  represent  to 
yourself  this  divine  |)ersonage  bound  by  the 
hands  of  an  insolent  rabble;  dragged  along 
from  one  tribunal  to  another;  condenmed  as  a 
felon,  and  nailed  to  a  tree.  Can  this  be  that 
Messiah,  into  whose  hand  God  was  to  put  a 
"  rod  of  iron  to  break  the  nations,  and  to  dash 
them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel'"  Ps.  ii.  9. 
Can  this  be  that  Messiah  who  should  "  have 
dominion  from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  river 
unto  the  ends  of  the  earth?"  Ps.  lx.\ii.  S.  Can 
this  be  the  Messiah  who  was  to  make  us  "  sit 
on  thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel?" 
Luke  xxii.  30.  As  this  was  the  grand  offence 
with  the  apostles,  their  Master  supplies  them 
with  more  than  one  buckler  to  repel  it. 

1 .  The  first  buckler  for  repelling  the  offence 
of  the  cross — The  miserable  condition  of  a 
lost  world.  "  I  tell  you  the  truth;  it  is  expe- 
dient for  you  that  1  go  away;  for  if  1  go  not 
away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come  unto  you," 
ch.  xvi.  7.  Had  not  Jesus  Christ  been  offered 
in  sacrifice,  there  had  been  no  Comforter,  and 
no  consolation  for  the  wretched  posterity  of 
Adam.  The  anger  of  a  righteous  God  was 
kindled  against  them.  They  had  nothing  to 
look  for  from  heaven,  but  thundcrb(dts  and  "  a 
horrible  tem()cst,"  to  crush  their  guilty  heads. 
On  the  cross  it  was  that  Jesus  Ciirist  restored 
a  blessed  correspondence  between  heaven  and 
earth;  "  for  it  plcsiscd  the  Father,  that  in  him 
should  all  fulness  dwell;  and,  having  made 
peace  through  the  blood  of  his  cross,  by  him 
to  reconcile  all  things  unto  himself,  whether 
they  bo  things  in  earth,  or  things  in  heaven," 
Col.  i.  19,20. 

2.  The  second  buckler  against  the  offence 
of  the  cross — The  downfall  of  the  enemy  of 
mankind,  1  mean  the  devil  and  his  angels: 
"  the  prince  of  this  world  is  judged,"  eh.  xiv. 
30,  xvi.  11.  The  crucifixion  of  the  Redeemer 
of  the  world,  it  is  true,  seemed  to  complete  tlie 
triumph  of  Satan,  but  it  was,  in  reality,  pre- 
cisely the  point  of  his  decline  and  fall.  He 
"  bruised  the  heel"  of  the  promissed  seed,  but 
Jesus  Christ  "  bruised  his  head,"  Gen.  iii.  16. 
On  the  cross  it  was  that  Jesus  executed  tlto 


Skr.  LXX.l 


TO  niS  DISCIPLES. 


149 


design  of  his  cominor  into  llio  world,  namely,  to 
"dustroy  the  works  of  the  devil,"  1  Jolin  iii.  8. 
On  the  cross  it  was  that  Jesus  Clirist  poured 
out  the  precious  blood  wiiich  was  «joinj^  to  be- 
come the  true  seed  of  the  church.  Oi\  the 
cross  it  was  that  ho  dashed  down  to  tiie  ground 
the  trophies  of  idolatry,  and  there  he  "spoiled 
principalities  and  powers,  and  made  a  show  of 
them  openly,  triunipiiing  over  them  in  it," 
Col.  ii.  15. 

3.  The  third  buckler  against  the  offence  of 
the    cross — The  sovereign   command   of   his 
heavenly  Father:    "  the  prince  of  this  world 
cometii,  and  hath  nothing  in  me.     Jiut  that 
■  the  world  may  know  that  I  love  the  Father; 
and  as  the   Father  gave  me  commandment, 
oven  so  I  do,"  chap.  .\iv.  30,  31.     What  was 
the  commandment  given  of  the  Father  to  .le- 
ans Christ'     You  know  it,  my  brethren;  the 
commission  which  he  had  given  him,  was  to 
deliver  from  the  dreadful   abysses  of  hell   a 
world   of  miserable   wretches,    whom   divine 
justice  had  there  doomed  to  undergo  the  pun- 
ishtnent  of  everlasting  fire.     This  was  the  su- 
preme will  which  the  Redeemer  had  continu- 
ally before  his  eyes.     For  this  it  was  that  he 
says,  when  he  corneth  into  the  world:  "  sacri- 
fice and  offering  thou  didst  not  desire:  but  a 
body  hast  thou  prepared  for  mo:  burnt-offering 
and  sin-oHering  hast  thou  not  required:  then 
said  I,  Lo,  I  come:  in  the  volume  of  the  book 
it  is  written  of  me:  I  deligiit  to  do  thy  will,  O 
my  God,"  Ps.  xl.  6 — 8.     For  this  it  was  that, 
dismayed,  and  cast  down,  as  it  were  to  the 
ground  at  Gethsemane,  at  the  bare  appreliension 
of  approaching  sufferings,  he  prayed,  saying: 
"  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup 
pass  from  me,"  but  immediately  added,  "  never- 
theless, not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt,"  Matt. 
x.Tvi.  39. 


your  children,"  Luke  xxiii.  28.  You  shall  be- 
hold the  .lews  driven  to  desperation,  imploring 
a.xsistance  from  the  rocks  and  from  the  moun- 
tains, to  shelter  tliem  from  tlie  strokes  of  that 
divine  vengeance  which  pursue»  them:  you  shall 
behold  that  Jerusalem,  that  murderess  of  tho 
prophets,  deluged  with  her  own  blood:  two 
millions  of  Jews  offered  in  sacrifice  to  the 
Justice  of  that  God,  who  requires  at  their  hands 
the  blood  of  tho  Messiah. 

5.  The  fifth  buckler  against  the  offence  of 
the  cross — The  spectacle  of  charity  which  Jesus 
Christ  presents  to  his  disciples:  "  Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friends,"  chap.  xv.  13.  Accord- 
ingly, when  this  divine  Saviour  had  arrived 
at  the  period  of  his  death,  and  had  formed,  if  I 
may  use  the  expression,  the  ultimate  resolution 
to  die,  every  flood-gate  of  his  charity  is  set 
open:  from  this  fountain  of  love,  whence 
emanated  the  heroic  purpose  of  immolating 
himself  for  his  disciples,  we  behold  every  other 
proof  of  affection  gushing  out  in  copious 
streams:  "  Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants, 
for  tho  servant  knoweth  not  what  his  lord 
doeth:  but  I  have  called  you  friends;  for  all 
things  that  I  have  heard  of  my  Father  I  have 
made  known  unto  you,"  chap.  xv.  15.  If  you 
have  been  faithful  to  me  while  I  was  giving 
you  strong  proofs  of  my  tenderness,  is  it  possi- 
ble you  should  be  unfaithful,  now  that  I  am 
j)reparing  to  give  you  a  demonstration  of  it 
still  more  irresistible?  Is  it  possible  you  should 
choose  the  time  of  my  crucifixion  to  betray  me? 
Is  it  possible  you  should  deny  your  Redeemer, 
precisely  at  the  moment  when  he  is  dying  to 
accomplish  the  work  of  your  redemption? 

II.  Our  blessed  Lord  having  spoken  to  the 
disciples,  of  the  cross  which  he  was  about  to 
sutler,  and  this  is  the  second  article  of  media- 


4.  The  fourth  buckler  against  the  offence  of  I  tion,  proceeds  to  speak  to  them  concerning 


the  cross — The  idea  of  the  storm  which  was 
ready  to  burst  on  the  authors  of  those  suHer- 
ings,  and  upon  a  whole  guilty  nation  which 
had  obstinately  rejected  his  ministry:  "  If  I  had 
not  come  and  spoken  unto  them,  they  had  not 
had  sin:  but  now  they  have  no  cloak  for  their 
sin.  He  that  hateth  me,  hatetii  my  Father 
also,"  chap.  xv.  22,  23.  This  parricide  filled 
up  the  measure  of  the  incredulity  and  barbari- 
ty of  the  Jews:  it  was  going  to  put  the  last 
hand  to  an  accumulation  of  criminality.  But 
let  not  the  impatience  of  the  flesh  hurry  tho 
spirit  into  the  formation  of  precipitate  judg- 
ment: let  not  the  libertine  and  tho  profane 
here  display  tiieir  abominable  system;  let  them 
not  say,  as  they  point  to  the  cross  of  the  Sa- 
viour, on  which  innocence  is  immolated  to  ini- 
quity, where  is  that  Providence  which  guides 
tho  helm  of  the  universe?  Whore  are  those 
eyes  which  go  up  and  down  through  the  earth, 
to  contemplate  the  actions  of  mea'     Where  is 


their  own.  He  disguises  not  either  the  horror 
or  the  weight  of  it:  "  These  things  I  have 
spoken  unto  you,  that  you  should  not  be  of- 
fended. They  shall  put  you  out  of  tho  syna- 
gogues: yea,  tiie  time  cometh,  that  whosoever 
killeth  you  will  think  that  he  doeth  God  ser- 
vice," chap.  xvi.  1,  2.  But  while  he  utters  a 
prediction  so  melancholy  and  discouraging,  he 
softens  it,  and  supplies  them  with  motives  the 
best  adapted  to  fortify  and  sustain  them  against 
the  fearful  accomplishment  of  it.  The  objects 
which  Jesus  Christ  presents  to  the  eyes  of  his 
disciples,  in  the  three  chapters  which  we  are 
attempting  to  analyze,  are  the  same  which  have 
supported  our  own  martyrs  and  confessors  in 
this  ago  of  fire  and  blood,  when  the  enemies 
of  religion  have  taken  for  their  models  the  per- 
secutors of  Christ  and  of  his  apostles. 

I  suffer,  I  die  for  the  gospel,  said  each  of 
our  confessors  and  martyrs  within  themselves, 
in  the  extremity  of  their  sufferings:  I  suffer,  I 


that  righteous  judge  of  all  the  earth,  ever  ready    die  for  the  gospel:  it  is  my  highest  glory;  it  is 


to  administer  justice?  Have  a  little  patience, 
and  you  shall  see,  that  as  this  parricide  con- 
Btituted  the  most  atrocious  of  all  crimes,  it 
was  likewise  speedily  followed  by  the  most 
tremendous  of  all  punishments.  You  shall  be- 
hold the  accomphshment  of  that  prophetic 
denimciation:  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep 
not  for  rae,  but  weep  for  yourselves  and  for 


my  badge  of  conformity  to  my  adorable  Sa- 
viour: "  I  fill  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the 
afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh,"  Col.  i.  24. 
"  I  bear  in  my  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,"  Gal.  vi.  17.  It  is  one  of  the  motives 
which  our  Lord  himself  proposes  to  the  apos- 
tles: "  if  tho  world  hate  you,  you  know  that  it 
hated  mo  before  it  hated  you.    The  servant  is 


150 


CHRIST'S  VALEDICTORY  ADDRESS 


[Sf.r.  LXX. 


not  greater  tlian  liis  lord.  If  tliey  liavo  per- 
secuted inc,  they  will  also  persecute  you," 
chap.  XV.  18.  20. 

I  sutler,  I  din  for  tlic  jrosprl.  The  world 
places  before  me  a  theatre  of  misery  and  per- 
secution only:  but  it  is  because  1  am  not  of 
this  world  I  am  looking  and  longing  for  an- 
otlier  establishment  of  things,  and  every  stroke 
aimed  at  me  by  the  men  of  tlio  world,  is  a 
I)ledge  of  my  being  a  citizen  of  another,  of  a 
heavenly  coimtry.  This  is  a  farther  motive 
suggested  by  Jesus  Christ  to  the  disciples:  "  If 
ye  were  of  the  world,  tlie  world  would  love  his 
own:  but  because  ye  are  not  of  the  world,  but 
I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  therefore 
the  world  hateth  you,"  chap.  xv.  19. 

I  suffer,  I  die  for  tiie  gospel.  How  glorious 
it  is  for  a  man  to  devote  himself  in  such  a 
cause!  How  glorious  it  is  to  be  the  martyr  of 
truth  and  of  virtue!  Our  Lord  suggests  this 
likewise  as  a  motive  to  his  disciples:  "  all  these 
things  will  they  do  unto  you  for  my  name's 


hold  Moses  approaching  llie  last  closing  scene 
of  life:  "Take  tliis  book  of  the  law,"  says  he 
to  the  Lévites,  "  and  put  it  in  the  side  of  the 
ark  of  the  (  ovcnant  of  tlie  Lord  your  God, 
thai  it  niiiy  bo  there  for  a  witness  against  thee, 
for  I  know  thy  rebellion  and  thy  stiff  neck: 
behold,  while  I  am  yet  alive  with  you  this 
day,  ye  have  been  rebellious  against  the  I^ord; 
and  how  much  more  after  my  death?"  Deut. 
.\xxi.  26,  27.  Behold  St.  Paul:  consider  tho 
terrors  which  ho  feels  as  ho  prepares  to  go  up 
to  Jerusalem:  it  is  not  that  of  being  made  a 
partaker  of  his  master's  sufferings:  "  no,"  says 
he,  "  the  Holy  Gliost  witnesseth  in  every  city, 
saying,  that  bonds  and  atllictions  abide  me  at 
Jerusalem.  But  none  of  these  things  move 
me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  myself, 
so  that  I  might  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and 
the  ministry  which  I  have  received  of  tho 
Lord  Jesus,  to  testify  the  gospel  of  tiie  grace 
of  God,"  Acts  XX.  23,  24.  But  that  which 
fills  him  with  painful  apprehension  is  the  dan- 


sake,  because  tiiey  know  not  him  who  sent    ger  of  apostatizing,  to  which  his  beloved  Ephe 


me,"  chap.  xv.  21 

I  suffer,  I  die  for  the  gospel;  but  God  is 
witness  of  my  sufferings  and  death:  he  feels 
every  stroke  which  falls  upon  me:  "he  who 
toucheth  me,  toucheth  the  apple  of  his  eye," 
Zech.  ii.  8.  And  as  he  is  tlie  witness  of  tiie 
barbarity  of  my  tormentors,  he  will  likewise 
be  the  .judge  and  the  avenger.  This  likewise 
is  a  motive  suggested  by  our  Lord  to  his  dis- 
ciples: "  he  that  hateth  me  hateth  my  father 
also,"  chap.  xv.  23. 

I  suffer,  I  die  for  the  gospel:  but  I  have  be- 
fore my  eyes  the  great  pattern  of  patience  and 
fortitude.  I  derive  the  support  which  I  need 
from  the  same  source  whence  my  Saviour  de- 
rived his:  I  look  to  "  the  author  and  finisher  of 
my  faith,  who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
him  endured  tlie  cross,  despising  the  shame," 
Heb.  xii.  2,  and  I  aspire  after  tlie  same  triumph. 
This  is  a  motive  suggested  by  Jesus  Christ  to 
his  disciples;  "  in  the  world  ye  shall  have  tri- 
bulation: but  be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  over- 
come the  world,"  chap.  xvi.  33.  What  cross 
would  not  appear  light,  when  tho  mind  is  sup- 
ported by  motives  so  powerful.' 

III.  We  observed,  in  the  third  place,  that 
our  blessed  Lord  is,  in  this  address  cautioning 
his  disciples  against  forgetfulncss  of  his  com- 
mandments. The  presence  of  a  good  pastor  is 
a  bulwark  against  error  and  vice.  The  re- 
spect which  he  commands  by  his  e.\emplary 
conduct,  and  the  lustre  which  his  superior  in- 
telligence diffuses,  impress  truth  upon  the  un- 
derstanding, and  transfuse  virtue  into  tho 
heart.  He  has  his  eyes  ever  open  upon  the 
various  avenues  through  which  tiio  enemy 
could  find  admission  into  the  field  of  the  Lord, 
to  sow  it  with  tares,  and  by  tho  exercise  of 
constant  vigilance  defeats  the  cunning  of  tho 
wicked  one. 

Conformably  to  this  idea,  one  of  the  most 
grievou.s  solicitudes  which,  at  a  dying  hour, 
have  oppressed  the  minds  of  those  extraordi- 
nary men  to  whom  God  committed  the  over- 
Bight  of  his  church,  proceeded  from  the  ap- 
prehension of  tiiat  corruption  into  which  their 
charge  wius  in  danger  of  falling  after  their  own 
departure;  and  tho  object  of  their  most  an.\- 
iou3  concern  has  been  to  prevent  this.     Bo- 


sians,  among  whom  he  has  been  so  successful, 
were  going  to  be  exposed  after  he  had  left 
tliem:  for  this  reason  it  is,  that  in  bidding  them 
a  final  adieu,  he  expresses  an  ardent  wish  that 
a  last  effort  should  indelibly  impress  on  their 
hearts  the  great  truths  which  had  been  the 
subject  of  his  ministry  among  them;  "  I  take 
you  to  record  this  day,  tiiat  1  am  pure  from 
tiie  blood  of  all  men:  for  I  have  not  sliunned 
to  declare  unto  you  all  the  counsel  of  God. 
Take  heed  therefore  unto  yourselves,  and  to 
all  the  flock  over  which  the  Holy  Ghost  hath 
made  you  overseers,  to  feed  the  church  of 
God,  which  he  hath  purchased  with  his  own 
blood.  For  I  know  this,  that  after  my  depart- 
ing shall  grievous  wolves  enter  in  Among  you, 
not  sparing  tiie  flock,"  Acts  sx.  26 — 29. 

Jesus  Christ,  in   like   manner,  is  ready  to 
finish  the  work  which  his  heavenly  Father  has 
given  him  to  do:  he  shrinks  from  it  no  longer: 
he  advances  forward,  braving  the  cross,  being 
"  now  ready  to  be  offered,"  2  Tim.  iv.  6. 
"Arise,"  says  he  to  them,  "arise,"  (he  was 
still  in  the  house  where  ho  had  just  eaten  the 
passover,  when  he  pronounced  the  discourse 
which  we  are  endeavouring  to  explain)  "  let 
us  go  hence,"  chap.  xiv.  31.     I  must  pass  no 
more   time  with  my  beloved   disciples;   I  am 
going  to  bo  delivered  up  to  my  executioners; 
1  must  "no   more   drink"  with  you  "of  tho 
fruit  of  the  vine,"  Luke  xxii.  18,  in  a  feast  of 
love;  it  is  time  for  me  to  go  and  drink  to  tho 
very  dregs  the  cup  which  the  justice  of  my 
Father  is  putting  into  my  hands:  "  let  us  go 
hence:"  let  us  go  to  Getlisemane:  let  us  ascend 
to  Golgotha.     But,  "  Simon,  Simon,  behold, 
Satan  hath  desired  to  have  you,  that  he  may 
sift  you  as  wheat,"  Luke  xxii.  31.     But,  "  all 
yo  shall  be  oflended  because  of  me  this  night," 
Matt.  xxvi.  31.    But,  the  devil,  and  the  world, 
and  aU  hell,  aro  going  to  unite  their  efforts  to 
dissolve   your   communion   with    me.     What 
docs    ho    oppose   to    danger    so   threatening? 
What  means  does   he   employ  to  prevent  it? 
What   ought  to   bo   done   by  a  good   pastor 
when  stretched  on  a  death-bed;  not  only  ear- 
nest  prayers  addressed   to  heaven,    but  also 
tender  oxliortations   addressed   to    men.     Ho 
gives  them  an  ubridgnient  of  Uio  sermons 


Ser.  LXXI.] 


TO  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


151 


which,  during  tlio  period  of  his  intercourse 
witli  them,  liad  iiccn  tlio  subject  of  his  min- 
istrations: "if  ye  love  me,  keep  my  conunand- 
ments,"  chap.  xiv.  15. 

But  wliat  merits  especial  attention  in  the 
last  address  of  Jesns  Christ  to  his  apostles,  is 
the  precept  on  which  he  ])articularly  insists; 
and  tiie  subject  of  that  precept  is  cliarity:  "by 
this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  arc  my  disci- 
ples, if  ye  have  love  one  to  anotlier,"  chap, 
xiii.  35.  "  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto 
you,  tliat  ye  love  one  another;  as  I  have  loved 
you,  that  yc  also  love  one  another,"  ver.  31; 
a  precept  whicli  they  were  bound  to  observe 
as  Christians,  and  more  especially  as  ministers 
of  his  gospel. 

1.  As  Christians:  without  cliarity  Christi- 
anity cannot  possibly  subsist.  A  society,  the 
individuals  of  which  do  nut  love  each  other, 
cannot  be  a  society  of  tlio  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Tell  me  not  of  your  passing  whole 
days  and  nights  in  meditation  and  reading  the 
Scriptures;  of  your  uninterrupted  assiduity  in 
exercises  of  devotion;  of  your  fervour  and 
frequency  of  attendance  at  the  table  of  the 
Lord.  Tlie  question  still  recurs,  where  is  thy 
charity?  Lovest  thou  thy  neighbour?  Makest 
thou  his  interest  thy  own?  Is  his  prosperity  a 
source  of  satisfaction  to  thee?  Canst  thou  bear 
with  and  overlook  his  infirmities?  Respectest 
thou,  recommendcst  thou  his  excellencies? 
Defendest  thou  his  reputation?  Labourest 
thou  to  promote  his  salvation?  Such  ques- 
tions aro  so  many  touchstones  to  assist  us  in 
attaining  the  knowledge  of  ourselves:  so  many 
articles  of  condemnation  to  multitudes  who 
bear  the  Christian  name.  Of  charity,  alas, 
little  more  is  known  than  tlie  name:  and  the 
whole  amount  of  the  practice  of  it  is  reduced 
to  a  few  of  the  functions  altogether  insepara- 
ble from  mere  humanity:  when  a  man  has 
given  away  a  small  portion  of  his  superfluity 
to  relieve  the  poor;  wlien  he  has  bestowed  a 
morsel  of  bread  to  feed  that  starving  wretch; 
when  he  has  covered  those  shivering  limbs 
from  the  inclemency  of  the  air,  he  considers 
liimself  as  having  satisfied  the  demands  of 
cliarity:  ho  founds,  sliall  I  venture  to  say  it, 
he  founds  on  this  symptom  of  love  a  title  to 
warrant  his  iiiditierencc,  his  vengeance,  his 
hatred:  he  backbites  without  control,  he  ca- 
liiminates  without  hesitation,  ho  plunges  tiio 
daafger  without  remorse:  he  pines  at  the  pros- 
perity of  another,  and  his  neighbour's  glory 
clothes  him  with  shame. 

2.  Hut  if  the  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ  are 
engaged  as  Christians  to  love  one  another, 
they  more  especially  are  so  as  ministers  of  the 
gospel.  Where  aro  we  to  look  for  charity, 
if  not  in  the  heart  of  those  who  are  the  her- 
alds of  charity?  What  monster  so  detestable 
as  a  minister  destitute  of  charity!  The  more 
that  charity  is  inculcated  by  the  religion 
which  he  professes  to  teach,  the  more  it  must 
expose  him  as  a  most  unnatural  being,  if  he  is 
capable  of  resisting  the  power  of  motives  so 
tender.  The  more  venerable  that  his  minis- 
try is,  the  more  liable  must  it  bo  to  suspicion 
and  contempt,  when  exorcised  by  a  man  who 
is  himself  a  stranger  to  cliarity.  J  le  will  warp 
tho  truths  of  religion  according  to  seasons 
and  circuinstuuces;  he  will  accoiiunudalu  his 


preaching  to  his  interest;  ho  will  carry  hia 
passions  with  him  into  the  jiulpit;  he  will 
conceal  the  heart  of  a  wolf  under  the  clothing 
of  a  sheep,  and  will  avail  himself  of  the  law 
of  charity  itself,  to  difliiso  through  the  whole 
churcli  the  pestilential  air  of  that  hatred,  ani- 
mosity, and  envy,  which  torment  and  prey 
upon  his  own  mind. 

It  was,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  the  desire  of 
Jesus  Christ,  that  charity  should  be  the  reign- 
ing princi|)le  in  the  college  of  the  apostles, 
that  united  together  in  bands  of  the  tenderest 
affection,  they  might  lend  each  other  etfectual 
support  in  the  great  work  of  publishing  the 
gospel.  Never  does  the  devil  labour  with 
more  success  against  a  church,  than  when  he 
acquires  the  power  of  disuniting  the  ministers 
who  have  the  oversight  of  it.  Call  to  the 
pastoral  charge  of  a  llock  persons  of  the  great- 
est celebrity,  preachers  the  most  eloquent, 
geniuses  the  most  transcendant,  unless  they 
are  closely  united  in  the  bands  of  charity, 
small  will  be  their  jirogress;  they  will  sepa- 
rate the  hearts  which  they  were  bound  to 
unite;  they  will  foster  the  spirit  of  party; 
they  will  encourage  the  fomenters  of  discord; 
they  will  instruct  one  to  say,  "  I  am  of  Paul;" 
and  another,  "  I  am  of  Cephas;"  and  another, 
"  I  am  of  Apollos,"  1  Cor.  iii.  4.  They  will  be 
in  constant  mutual  opposition.  Apollos  will 
do  bis  utmost  to  pull  down  what  Cephas  has 
built  up;  Cephas  will  attempt  to  rear  what 
Paul  had  demolished.  Discover  the  art,  on 
the  contrary,  of  uniting  tho  hearts  of  those 
who  have  the  care  of  a  flock,  and  you  ensure 
their  success;  they  will  strengthen  each  other's 
luuids;  they  will  attack  the  common  enemy 
with  concentrated  force;  they  will  concur  in 
pursuing  the  same  object.  "  A  new  com- 
mandment I  give  unto  you,  that  ye  love  one 
another.  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye 
aro  my  disciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  an- 
other." O  charity!  the  livery  of  the  disciples 
of  Jesus  Christ,  must  it  needs  be  that  thou 
shouldst  be  as  rare  as  thou  art  indispensable! 
Banished  from  the  rest  of  the  universe,  flee  for 
refuge  to  the  church.  Exert  thy  sovereign 
power  at  least  in  the  sanctuary.  Bind  together 
in  bands  of  indissoluble  afiection  the  shep- 
herds of  this  flock.  Let  all  animosity,  let  dis- 
cord, let  envy,  be  for  ever  banished  from  the 
midst  of  us,  my  beloved  companions  "  in  the 
work  of  the  ministry,"  Eph.  iv.  12. 


SERMON  LXXI. 


CHRIST'S    VALEDICTORY    ADDRESS 

TO  HIS  DISCIPLES. 

PART  II. 


John  xiv.  I. 
Let  not  your  liearts  he  troubled:  ye  believe  in  God; 
believe  also  in  me. 
IV.  The  fourth  and  last  great  end  which 
our  blessed  Lord  had  in  view,  in  addressing 
this  farewell  di.^course  to  his  disciples,  was  to 
furnish  them  with  supplies  of  consolation  un- 
der the  sorrow  which  his  absence  was  going  to 
excite  in  tbcui.     This  sorrow  is  one  of  those 


ira 


CHRIST'S  VALEDICTORY  ADDRESS 


[Ser.  LXXL 


dispositions  of  tlio  soul  which  no  powers  of 
langiiajrc  are  cn|)ablo  of  exprcssintf.  The 
apoFlles  tenderly  loved  their  master.  Though 
the  history  of  their  life  had  not  conveyed  to 
us  this  idea  of  tlicm;  though  the  gospel  had 
not  traced,  for  our  information,  certain  parti- 
cular traits  of  their  atVection;  had  nothing  been 
mentioned  of  the  tenderness  of  the  discij)le 
whom  Jesus  loved,  nothing  of  the  vehenicnce 
of  St.  Peter,  always  ready  to  kindle  into  a 
flame  when  the  glory  and  the  life  of  his  mas- 
ter were  concerned,  the  very  nature  of  the 
thing  would  be  sufficient  to  give  us  the  assu- 
rance of  it.  Who  could  have  known  Jesus 
Christ  without  loving  liini? 

Is  it  possible  to  conceive  the  idea  of  a  cha- 
racter more  amiable?  Have  you  found  in  the 
history  of  those  excellent  ones,  who  were  the 
delight  of  mankind;  or  even  in  the  produc- 
tions of  those  who  have  communicated  to  us 
imaginary  ideas  of  excellency  and  perfection, 
have  you  found  in  these  higher  instances  of 
delicacy,  of  magnanimity,  of  cordial  aflection? 
If  it  be  impossible  for  you  to  apply  your 
thoughts  to  this  great  object  without  being 
transported,  what  nm.st  have  been  the  feelings 
of  the  disciples'  Continual  hearers  of  the  gra- 
cious words  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  the 
blessed  Jesus,  the  constant  witnesses  of  his  vir- 
tues, the  spectators  of  his  wonderful  works, 
admitted  to  the  most  intimate  familiarity  with 
him,  and  honoured  with  the  most  untwunded 
confidence,  what  must  have  been  the  love  to 
him  which  inflamed  their  hearts.'  Now  this  is 
the  gracious  Master,  this  the  delicious  inter- 
course, this  the  tender-hearted  friend  whom 
they  are  going  to  lose. 

What  charm  can  the  world  possess  after  we 
have  had  the  infelicity  of  surviving  certain  per- 
sons who  were  dear  to  us.'  No,  neither  the 
mourning  of  Joseph,  when  he  accompanied 
with  tears  to  "  the  threshing  floor  of  Atad"  the 
coffin  of  Jacob  his  father,  Gen.  i.  10;  no,  nor 
the  loud  lamentation  of  David,  when  he  ex- 
claimed, in  an  agony  of  wo,  "  O  my  son  Absa- 
lom; my  son,  my  son  Absalom,  would  God  I 
had  died  for  thee:  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son!" 
2  Sam.  xviii.  33;  no,  nor  the  anguish  of  Rachel 
"  weeping  for  her  children,  and  refusing  to  be 
comforted  because  they  are  not,"  Matt.  ii.  18. 
No,  nothing  is  capable  of  conveying  an  idea  of 
the  condition  to  which  the  disciples  were  going 
to  be  reduced  on  beholding  their  Master  exi)irc. 
One  must  have  survived  Jesus  (Jhrist  in  order 
to  1)0  sensible  what  it  is  to  survive  Ji>sus  Christ. 
This  fatal  stroke  was  to  become  to  them  an  in- 
cxliaustiiile  fountain  of  tears.  This  death  ap- 
peared to  them  the  utter  annihilation  of  all 
things:  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  universe  were 
dying  together  with  him.  "  Now  I  go  my  way 
to  hitn  that  sent  me;  and  none  of  you  asketli 
me,  Whither  goest  thou?  but  because  I  have 
said  these  things  unto  you,  sorrow  liath  fdled 
your  hearts,"  chaj).  xTi.  6,  6.  "  A  little  while 
and  ye  shall  not  see  nic,"  ver.  16.  "Verily, 
verily,  I  sjiy  unto  you,  Ye  shall  weep  and  la- 
ment, l)ut  the  world  sliall  rejoice;  and  yo  shall 
be  sorrowful,"  ver.  -0. 

There  can  be  no  room  to  doubt  that  Jesus 
('hrist,  who  himself  loves  with  so  nnich  delicacy 
of  afliection,  and  who  was  animated  with  such 


participated  in  their  sorrow.  As  the  loss,  which 
they  were  about  to  sustain,  was  the  deepest 
wound  in  their  soul,  he  \>outs  into  it  the  most 
poweil"ul  balm  of  divine  consolation.  And  here, 
my  dciirly  beloved  brethren,  here  it  is  that  I 
stand  in  need  of,  not  all  the  attention  of  your 
intellectual  powers,  but  of  all  the  sensibility  of 
which  your  heart  is  susceptible,  that  while  you 
partake  in  th«  sorrow  of  the  apostles,  you  may 
likewise  partake  with  them  in  the  consolation 
which  their  Lord  and  ours  was  pleased  to  ad- 
minister. 

I  shall  sometimes  turn  aside  from  those  holy 
men,  my  dear  hearers,  to  address  myself  to  you, 
and  to  supply  you  witl»  abundant  consolation, 
under  the  most  oppressive  ills  which  you  may 
be  called  to  endure  on  the  earth;  I  mean  tmder 
the  loss  of  those  who  were  most  dear  to  you  in 
life.  1  could  wish  to  convince  you,  that  the 
Christian  religion  is  "  profitable  for  all  things:" 
that  it  will  serve  us  as  a  bulwark  and  a  refuge 
in  our  greatest  sorrows,  if  we  have  but  the  wis- 
dom to  resort  to  it.  Only  take  care  to  apply, 
every  one  to  his  own  particular  situation,  the 
truth  which  I  am  going  to  propose  to  you. 
Derive  your  consolations  from  the  same  sources 
which  Jesus  Christ  opened  to  his  disci])les,  and 
to  a  particij)ation  of  which  we  now,  after  his 
example,  cordially  invite  you:  prayer,  the  mis- 
sion of  the  Comforter,  the  place  to  which  your 
Redeemer  is  gone,  the  foretastes  of  the  glory 
which  he  is  there  j)re|>aring  for  you,  his  spi- 
ritual presence  in  the  midst  of  you,  and  the  cer- 
tainty and  nearness  of  his  return. 

1.  In  all  your  distresses  have  recourse  to 
prayer.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  What- 
soever ye  shall  ask  the  Father,  in  my  name,  he 
will  give  it  you.  Hitherto  ye  have  asked  no- 
thing in  my  name:  ask  and  ye  shall  receive, 
tliat  your  joy  may  be  full,"  chap.  xvi.  L'3,  24. 
Tiiis  ouglit  to  be  adopted  as  a  new  form  of 
prayer  in  the  Ciiristian  world.  Scarcely  do  we 
find  any  trace  of  it  in  the  devotions  of  the  faith- 
ful of  ancient  times.  Tliey  indeed  sometimes 
introduce  the  names  of  Abraham,  of  Is;iac,  and 
of  Jacob;  but  nowhere,  except  in  the  prophecy 
of  Daniel,  do  we  find  a  prayer  put  up  in  the 
name  of  the  Messiah.  This  at  lea.sl  is  the  sense 
which  may  be  assigned  to  those  words  of  that 
prophet:  "  Now,  therefore,  O  our  God,  hear  the 
prayer  of  thy  servant,  and  his  supplication,  and 
cau.se  thy  face  to  shine  upon  thy  sanctuary,  that 
is  desolate,  for  the  Lord's  sake,"  Dan.  ix.  n. 

Rut  this  unexampled  form,  or  of  wliich  there 
is  at  most  so  few  examples  in  the  ancient 
church,  was  to  be  henceforward  adopted  by  all 
Christians:  it  is  the  first  source  of  consolation 
which  Christ  opened  to  his  disciples,  and  it  is 
likewise  the  first  which  we,  after  him,  would 
propose  to  you.  Perhaps  there  may  be  many 
among  us  to  whom  Jesus  might  still  say,  aa 
formerly  to  his  disciples,  "  hitherto  have  ye 
asked  nothing  in  my  name."  To  i>ray,  and  to 
pray  in  the  name  of  Christ,  is  the  Christian's 
grand  resource.  Resort  to  it  in  all  your  tribu- 
lations. Have  you  reason  to  apprehend  that 
some  stroke  from  the  hand  of  God  is  going  to 
fall  heavy  upon  you?  Do  you  believe  yourself 
on  the  eve  of  hearing  some  melancholy  tidings? 
Are  you  called  to  undergo  some  pahiful  and 
dangerous  operation  on  your  person?     And,  to 


a  i>redilcctiou  in  behalf  of  his  disciples,  tenderly  |  say  every  tiling  in  one  word,  are  you  iJireatcned 


Ser.  LXXI.] 


TO  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


153 


with  the  loss  of  tho  most  valuable,  tho  most 
generous,  the  most  tender  friend  that  Heaven 
could  bestow?  Have  recourse  to  prayer:  God 
still  sutwiists  when  all  things  else  have  become 
dead  to  thee.  God  continues  to  hear  thee, 
when  death  has  reduced  to  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility all  that  was  dear  to  thee,  llctiro  to  tiiy 
closet;  prostrate  thyself  at  tho  footstool  of  tiie 
throne  of  the  Father  of  mercies.  Pour  out  your 
heart  into  his  bosom:  say  to  him,  "  O  Lord,  irty 
strenirth,  teach  my  hands  to  war,  and  my  fin- 
gers to  fight,"  Ps.  cxliv.  1.  Lord,  take  pity  on 
thy  creature;  Lord,  proportion  my  trials  to  tho 
strength  thou  shalt  be  pleased  to  administer  to 
sustain  them;  "O  my  God,  hear  the  prayer  of 
thy  servant;  cause  thy  face  to  shine  upon  me, 
for  tho  Lord's  sake,"  Dan.  ix.  IK.  This  exer- 
cise, my  friend,  will  render  thee  invulnerable: 
this  exercise  will  conununicate  strength  on 
which  thou  mayest,  with  confidence,  rely,  far 
beyond  what  thou  durst  have  expected:  it  will 
place  thee  under  the  shadow  of  tlio  Almighty, 
and  will  establish  tiiee  "  as  Mount  Zion,  which 
cannot  be  removed,  but  abideth  for  ever,"  Ps. 
cxxv.  1. 

2.  In  all  your  distresses  call  to  remembrance 
tho  promise  of  tho  Comforter,  which  Jesus 
Christ  gave  to  his  disciples:  "  I  will  pray  the 
Father,  and  he  shall  give  you  another  Com- 
forter; that  ho  may  abide  with  you  for  over," 
chap.  xiv.  16.  This  promise  contained  some- 
thing peculiar,  relatively  to  the  apostles,  and 
to  the  then  state  of  the  infant  church.  It  de- 
noted the  economy  of  miracles,  which  was  not 
to  commence  till  Jesus  Christ  had  reascended 
into  heaven;  and  this  is  precisely  the  meaning 
of  these  words:  "  If  I  go  not  away,  the  Com- 
forter will  not  come  unto  you,"  chap.  xvi.  1;  it 
is  likewise  the  meaning  to  be  assigned  to  that 
passage,  "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  he  that 
believeth  on  me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall  he 
do  also;  and  greater  works  tlian  these  shall  he 
do;  because  1  go  unto  my  Father,"  chap.  xiv. 
By  the  xcorks  which  the  apostles  were  to  do,  we 
are  to  understand  miracles.  Those  works  were 
to  bo  p-eatcr  than  the  works  of  Jesus  Christ, 
with  respect  to  their  duration,  and  with  respect 
to  the  number  of  witnesses  in  whose  presence 
tliey  were  to  be  perfonned. 

This  is,  farther,  tho  idea  which  we  are  to 
afiix  to  those  other  words  of  our  Saviour:  "  I 
have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  you 
cannot  bear  them  now.  Howbeit,  when  he, 
the  Spirit  of  Truth,  is  come,  he  will  guide  you 
into  all  truth,"  chap.  .xvi.  12,  13.  This  refers 
to  those  o.xtraordiniiry  gifts  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  was  to  pour  down  upon  the  apostles,  the 
aid  of  inspiration,  and  the  grace  of  infallibility, 
which  were  going  to  be  communicated  to  them. 
It  is  likewise  of  these  peculiar  circumstances, 
that  we  must  explain  the  eftccts  which  Jesus 
Christ  ascribes  to  that  Spirit  whom  ho  promises 
to  send  to  his  disciples:  "And  when  he  the 
Comforter  is  come,  he  will  reprove  tho  world 
of  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on  me,"  chap, 
xvi.  8,  9;  or,  as  it  might  have  been  translated, 
"  he  shall  convince  them  of  their  criminality  in 
refusing  to  believe  on  me:"  in  other  words,  that 
the  mission  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  Jesus 
Christ  had  promised  to  his  disciples,  shoidd  bo 
a  new  proof  of  tho  divinity  of  liis  owu  mission, 
Vol.  II.— 20 


and  should  render  those  persons  inexcusable 
who  presumed  to  call  it  in  question. 

Again,  "  he  eliall  reprove  them  of  righteous- 
nesn,  because  I  go  to  my  Fatlier,"  ver.  10,  that 
is,  the  miraculous  gifts  communicated  to  tho 
first  heralds  of  the  gospel  should  demonstrate, 
in  a  sensible  manner,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  in 
heaven,  and  should,  from  that  very  circum- 
stance, evince  that  he  was  perfectly  righteous, 
although  he  had  been  condemned  as  an  im- 
postor, seeing  God  had  thus  exalted  him  to  the 
iiighest  pinnacle  of  glory. 

Once  more,  "  he  shall  reprove  them  of  judg- 
ment, because  the  prince  of  this  world  is  judg- 
ed," ver.  II;  in  other  words,  that  the  triumphs 
which  the  Christian  religion  was  about  to  ob- 
tain, tlirough  the  miraculous  endowments  of  its 
ministers,  were  to  be  an  awful  forerunner  of  tho 
judgments  which  should  overtake  those  who 
persisted  in  their  unbelief.  All  this  is  peculiar 
to  tho  apostles;  all  this  relates  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  primitive  church. 

But  this  promise,  my  beloved  brethren,  has  a 
reference  to  us  also;  and  let  it  be  our  support  in 
the  midst  of  tribulation.  Jesus  Christ  has  pro- 
mised to  us  also,  the  Comforter,  His  Spirit  is 
within  us:  "  Greater  is  he  that  is  in  us,  than  he 
that  is  in  the  world,"  1  John  iv.  4.  Let  us 
yield  ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  this  Spirit: 
he  will  not  grant  us  to  exercise  authority  over 
insensible  beings,  to  control  the  powers  of  na- 
ture, and  to  rule  the  elements;  but  he  will  exalt 
us  to  a  glorious  superiority  over  flesh  and  blood; 
he  will  support  us  under  every  pressure  of  ca- 
lamity, and  make  us  "  more  than  conquerors" 
over  every  foe. 

3.  In  all  your  distresses,  call  to  remembrance 
the  place  to  which  Jesus  Christ  is  gone.  "  If 
ye  love  me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  said,  I 
go  unto  the  Father,"  chap.  xiv.  28.  It  is  the 
desire  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  his  disciples,  on  be- 
ing separated  from  him,  should  not  confine  their 
thoughts  to  their  own  interest  merely.  It  is  his 
wish,  that  the  glory  to  which  he  was  about  to 
be  exalted,  should  sweeten  to  them  the  bitter- 
ness of  separation.  Jesus  Christ  teaches  us 
how  to  love.  We  frequently  imagine,  that  we 
are  inspired  with  love  to  a  person  excruciated 
with  agonizing  pains,  whereas  it  is  only  self- 
love  in  disguise.  When  death  has  removed  a 
person,  who  was  justly  dear  to  us,  we  dwell 
only  on  tho  loss  which  we  have  sustained,  but 
make  no  account  of  what  our  friend  has  gained. 
Whence  proceed  those  tears  which  stream  from 
your  eyes?  Whence  these  sighs  and  sobbings.' 
What  dreadful  event  can  thus  have  rent  your 
heart,  and  excited  those  piercing  shrieks  which 
rend  tho  air?  You  have  just  beheld  one  who 
was  the  object  of  your  tenderest  affection  depart 
out  of  this  valley  of  tears;  he  has  breathed  out 
his  soul  into  the  hands  of  his  Creator,  and  the 
blessed  "  angels,  who  rejoice  over  a  sinner  tliat 
repenteth,"  Luke  xv.  10,  experience  new  trans- 
ports of  delight,  when  a  believer  who  had  been 
combating  under  tlie  banner  of  the  cross  of 
Christ,  comes  to  be  admitted  to  a  participation 
in  his  triumph:  and  can  you  consider  this  as  a 
ground  of  affliction  to  you?  Do  you  call  this 
love?    No,  you  know  not  how  to  love. 

Ah!  if  the  departed  could  see  what  is  passing 
below  tho  sun!  if  the  supreme  order  of  the  Al- 


154 


CHRIST'S  VALEDICTOKY  ADDRESS 


[Ser.  LXXI. 


miglity  would  permit  those  who  are  in  heaven 
to  maintain  a  communication  with  their  sur- 
viving Irionds  on  the  cartii!  tlio  person,  whose 
loss  you  so  bitterly  deplore,  would  re])roach  you 
with  tliat  excess  of  grief.  He  would  address 
you  in  the  words  of  the  Saviour  to  his  disciples: 
"  If  you  loved  me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  1 
said,  I  go  unto  the  Father,  for  the  Father  is 
"■realer  than  I."  Would  you  tear  mo  from  the 
bosom  of  that  Father?  Would  you  recall  me 
to  this  scene  of  tribulation  and  distress?  Do 
you  wish  to  see  me  ajjain  struggling  with  the 
calamities  which  are  inseparable  from  the  life 
of  wretched  mortals? 

But  there  is  something  fartlier  which  chal- 
lenges our  attention.  All  that  our  blessed 
Lord  haii  done  for  himself,  has  an  intimate  re- 
lation to  us.  All  the  glory  which  rests  on  our 
illustrious  head  extends  its  inlluence  to  each  of 
its  members.  All  the  parts  of  the  economy 
into  which  he  has  entered  for  our  salvation, 
have  a  direct  reference  to  our  salvation.  "  He 
was  delivered  for  our  offences,  and  was  raised 
again  for  our  justification:  He  is  even  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  where  he  also  maketh  in- 
tercession for  us,"  Rom.  iv.  2b;  viii.  34.  In 
all  your  distresses,  reflect  not  only  on  the  place 
to  which  Christ  is  gone,  but  likewise  on  what 
he  has  thither  gone  to  do,  on  your  behalf  "  In 
my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions:  if  it 
were  not  so  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you,"  chap.  xiv.  2.  God 
no  longer  dwells  in  "  light  which  no  man  can 
approach  unto,"  1  Tim.  vi.  16.  Direct  your 
eyes  to  heaven.  There  are  no  longer  "  cheru- 
bim, and  a  flaming  sword,"  Gen.  iii.  24,  to  ob- 
struct your  passage.  "  Whither  I  go  ye  know, 
and  the  way  ye  know:"  ....  "Jesus  Ciirist 
is  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  chap, 
xiv.  4.  6.  Keep  but  yourselves  closely  united 
to  the  Redeemer  in  the  hour  of  tribulation; 
place  continually  before  your  eyes  this  model 
of  patient  suffering,  and  he  will  himself  con- 
duct you  to  those  mansions  of  glory. 

4.  But  an  impenetrable  veil  conceals  from 
our  eyes  tliose  mansions  in  our  Father's  house: 
but  there  is  an  infinite  distance  between  this 
little  corner  of  the  world,  into  which  God  has 
been  j)leased  to  send  us,  as  into  a  state  of 
exile,  and  the  place  which  Christ  is  preparing  for 
us.  God  is  still,  with  respect  to  us,  "  a  strong 
God,  who  hideth  himself,"  Isa.  xiv.  16.  Well, 
you  must  learn  to  look  through  that  veil. 
You  must  learn  to  fill  up  the  mighty  void 
which  is  between  heaven  and  earth,  and  to  see 
this  God  who  still  conceals  himself  from  our 
eyes.  "  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped 
for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen," 
Heb.  xi.  1.  The  Christian  is  instructed  to 
unite  the  present  to  futurity.  The  Christian  is 
instructed  to  anticipate  periods  the  most  re- 
mote. The  Christian  is  a  man  already  "  quick- 
ened together  with  Christ;  already  glorified; 
already  seated  in  heavenly  places  with  Christ 
Jesus,"  Eph.  ii.  6.  How  so?  By  the  fore- 
tastes of  those  blessings  which  are  the  object 
of  his  expectations.  This  is  the  fourth  source 
of  the  consolation  which  our  Lord  opens  to  his 
disciples,  and  which  we,  after  him,  open  to  you. 
"  From  henceforth  ye  know  the  father,  and 
have  seen  him:  he  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen 
the  Father:  peace  I  leave  with  you;  my  i»eaco 


I  give  unto  you:  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give 
I  unto  you,"  chap.  xiv.  T.  9.  27. 

My  soul,  if  these  are  mere  empty  ideas  with 
respect  to  thee,  to  thyself  alone  is  the  evil  to 
be  imputed.  Thou  hast  corrupted  thy  taste: 
thou  art  plunging  thyself  in  the  world;  dis- 
tracting thyself  with  its  projects:  eagerly  hunt- 
ing after  ita  pleasures:  thou  art  sullering  thy- 
self to  be  fascinated  with  its  charms:  thou  art 
devoting  no  portion  of  thy  immortal  capacity 
to  the  perception  of  that  delight  which  the 
regenerated  man  enjovs,  when  he  can  say  to 
himself,  "  I  know  the  Father;"  he  is  such  as  I 
know  the  Son  to  b<;,  full  of  love,  full  of  cha- 
rily, full  of  goodness  and  long-suffering.  Jesus 
Clirist  has  "  left  me  his  peace;"  I  bear  within 
me  the  testimony  of  "  a  conscience  void  of 
otlence:"  1  give  .myself  up  to  the  joy  of  re- 
flecting that  my  salvation  is  secure."  Thou 
rendercst  thyself  insensible  to  tliese  sublime  at- 
tractions: and  then,  when  tlie  world  betrays 
thee;  when  thy  "gods  are  taken  away  from 
thee,"  Judg.  xviii.  24;  when  thou  art  bent  on 
every  side  with  a  "  great  sight  of  affliction," 
tiiou  findest  thyself  destitute  of  every  resource. 
Reform  thy  depraved  taste.  Call  down  para- 
disc  to  reside  within  thee;  anticipate  that  glo- 
rious period,  when  thou  "shall  see  God  as  he 
is,"  1  John  iii.  2.  Call  to  remembrance  tliese 
words  of  thy  Saviour:  "  From  henceforth  ye 
know  the  father,  and  have  seen  him:  he  that 
hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  father:  peace  I 
leave  with  you;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you; 
not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you. 
Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be 
afraid." 

5.  There  is  a  fifth  source  of  consolation 
which  Jesus  Clirist  disclosed  to  his  disciples, 
and  which  we,  after  him,  disclose  unto  you: 
it  is  the  assurance  of  his  spiritual  presence, 
and  of  the  presence  of  his  heavenly  Father  in 
the  midst  of  you.  "  I  will  not  leave  you  com- 
fortless," or,  as  it  might  have  been  rendered,  I 

will  not  leave  you  orphans "  If  a 

man  love  me,  ho  will  keep  my  words;  and  my 
father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto 
him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him:"  chap.  xiv. 
18.  23.  In  all  your  distresses  call  to  remem- 
brance that  God  is  with  you  of  a  truth.  With 
what  fortitude  did  this  reflection  inspire  those 
holy  men  whom  the  Scriptures  have  proposed 
to  us  as  models! 

With  what  fortitude  was  Moses  animated  by 
it!  "  Wherein  shall  it  be  known  here,"  said 
of  old  time  that  eminent  servant  of  God,  "  that 
I  and  thy  people  have  found  grace  in  thy 
sight'  Is  it  not  in  that  thou  goest  with  us? 
So  shall  we  bo  separated,  I  and  thy  people, 
from  all  the  people  that  are  upon  the  lace  of 
the  earth:"  Ex.  xxiii.  16.  With  what  forti- 
tude did  it  animate  the  prophet,  when  he  said, 
"  When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me, 
tlien  the  Lord  will  take  me  up!"  Ps.  xxxvii.  10. 
With  what  fortitude  did  it  inspire  Jesus  Christ 
himself,  under  that  universal  desertion  which 
he  experienced  at  the  hour  of  deatlu'  "  Be- 
hold, the  hour  cometh,  yea,  is  now  come,  that 
ye  sliall  be  scattered  every  man  to  his  own, 
and  shall  leave  me  alone:  and  yet  I  am  not 
alone,  because  the  Father  is  with  me,"  chap, 
xvi.  32. 
Let  us  never  lose  sight  of  God  in  the  day  of 


Ser.  LXXI.] 


TO  HIS  DISCIPLES. 


156 


adversity.  Let  us  ever  dwell  with  complacen- 
cy and  joy  on  th:it  expression  of  the  Redeemer, 
"  I  will  not  leave  you  orphans."  IjCt  us  aj)- 
ply  to  ourselves  what  God  said  of  his  ancient 
people:  "  Surcily  tlwjy  arc  my  j)eoplo,  children 
that  will  not  lie:  so  he  was  thoir  Saviour.  In 
all  their  aflliction  he  was  afflicted,  and  the  an- 
gel of  his  presence  saved  them,"  Isa.  Ixiii.  8,  9; 
and  let  us  exult  in  the  fulness  of  a  Christian 
confidence:  "  I  have  set  the  Lord  always  be- 
fore me:  because  he  is  at  my  right  hand,  I 
shall  not  be  moved,"  Ps.  .xvi.  8. 

6.  Finally,  the  last  source  of  consolation 
which  Jesus  Christ  disclosed  to  his  discijdns, 
and  which  we,  after  his  exami)le,  would  dis- 
close unto  you,  is  the  nearness  of  his  return: 
"  Ye  now  have  sorrow:  but  I  will  see  you 
again,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice,  and  your 
joy  no  man  taketh  from  you,"  chap.  xvi.  22. 
In  all  your  distresses  call  to  remembrance,  that 
if  Jesus  Christ  be  not  now  sensibly  present  in 
the  midst  of  you,  the  time  is  at  hand  when  he 
will  certainly  be  so.  Call  to  remembrance 
what  the  angels  said  unto  the  apostles,  when 
lost  in  astonishment  at  beholding  a  cloud  re- 
ceive him  out  of  their  sight;  "  Ye  men  of  Ga- 
lilee, why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven.' 
this  same  Jesus  which  is  taken  up  from  you 
into  heaven,  shall  so  come,  in  like  manner  as 
ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven,"  Acts  i.  11. 
Call  to  remembrance  that  Jesus  Christ  will 
quickly  reappear;  "  Yet  a  little  while,  and  he 
who  shall  come,  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry," 
Heb.  X.  37. 

No,  this  economy  is  not  made  for  eternity. 
The  world  is  waxing  old;  our  years  are  hasten- 
ing to  fill  up  their  measure:  we  are  advancing 
with  rapid  strides  towards  the  tomb.  The  de- 
corations of  the  universe  are  speedily  to  be 
changed  with  respect  to  us.  The  universe  it- 
self is  about  to  undergo  a  real  change.  The 
state  of  the  world,  that  now  is,  presents  a  state 
of  violence,  which  cannot  be  of  long  duration. 
The  last  trumpet  must  ere  long  utter  its  voice: 
yet  a  little  while,  and  those  thunders  must  be 
heard  which  shall  shake  the  pillars  of  the 
earth:  "  arise  ye  dead,"  and  leave  your  tombs. 
Yet  a  little  while,  and  we  shall  see  again  those 
whose  death  hath  cost  us  so  many  tears,  and 
we  shall  be  reunited  to  them.  Yet  a  little 
while,  and  "  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  shall 
appear  in  heaven,"  Matt.  xxiv.  30.  Yet  a  little 
while,  and  this  Son  of  man  shall  himself  ap- 
pear in  his  own,  and  in  his  "  Father's  glory, 
with  all  his  holy  angels." 

Ah!  my  brethren,  till  that  blessed  period  ar- 
rive, we  dare  not  promise  you  the  possession 


of  the  fulness  of  joy.  Till  that  bles-sed  period, 
church  of  .Fesus  Christ,  "  thou  afflicted,  tossed 
with  tempest,  and  not  comforted,"  Isa.  liv.  2, 
a  fearful  night  must  involve  thee  in  thick  dark- 
ness. Till  that  blessed  period,  weep;  weep, 
dejected  Christian,  disciple  of  the  crucified  Je- 
sus, weep  and  lament,  and  let  "  the  world  re- 
joice because  ye  are  sorrowful,"  but  ere  long, 

"  your  sorrow  shall  be  turned  into  joy 

I  will  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall  re- 
joice, and  your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you." 
What  powers  of  thought  are  equal  to  a 
hai)py  termination  of  this  subject  of  medita- 
tion! What  pencil  is  capable  of  depicting  the 
joys  of  the  sons  of  God,  in  that  eventful  day, 
in  which  they  shall  behold  again,  in  which 
they  shall  embrace,  a  father,  a  friend,  a  child, 
from  whom  death  had  once  separated  them! 
Let  imagination  soar  to  the  highest  object 
which  the  mind  is  capable  of  contemplating. 
Let  nothing  divide  the  love  which  we  entirely 
owe  to  our  adorable  Redeemer,  or  damp  the 
delight  which  we  derive  from  the  exalted  hope 
of  seeing  him  return  to  us  in  the  clouds  of  hea- 
ven, with  his  "angels  that  excel  in  strength." 
Who  is  capable  of  representing  the  transport 
which  the  return  of  this  Jesus  shall  kindle  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  faithful!  There  he  is,  that 
Jesus  in  whom  we  believed:  this  is  he,  that  Je- 
sus whom  we  loved,  and  to  whom  we  were 
"faithful  even  unto  death."  Come,  Redeemer 
of  our  souls,  come  and  wipe  away  the  tears 
which  thy  departure  drew  from  our  eyes:  come, 
and  compensate  to  us  the  heaviness  of  so  long 
a  separation  from  thee;  come  and  receive  the 
effusions  of  our  gratitude  and  joy:  suffer  us, 
suffer  us  to  yield  to  the  transports  of  that  love 
which  absorbs  every  faculty,  which  constrains 
us,  which  exalts  us  to  seraphic  ardour. 

This  is  the  last  source  of  consolation  which 
Jesus  Christ  disclosed  to  his  disciples;  this  is 
that  consolation  which  flows  out  in  copious 
streams  towards  you.  Christian,  confounded, 
overwhelmed  with  wave  upon  wave,  in  all  thy 
fears,  thy  sorrows,  thy  sufferings.  O  religion 
of  the  blessed  .Jesus,  how  powerful  are  thy  at- 
tractions! What  charms  dost  thou  possess  for 
a  wretched  creature  who  feels  the  whole  earth 
a  cheerless  void:  let  this  religion,  my  beloved 
brethren,  be  the  object  of  our  most  ardent  af- 
fection. Let  us  go  on  unto  perfection:  let  us 
transmit  it  to  our  children,  as  the  goodliest  por- 
tion, as  the  fairest  inheritance:  let  us  live  with 
Jesus  Christ:  let  us  die  with  Jesus  Christ. 
May  God  grant  us  this  supreme  felicity.  To 
him  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever  and  ever. 
Amen. 


156 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


[Ser.  Lxxn. 


SERMON  LXXII. 


CHRIST'S    SACERDOTAL    PRAYER. 

PART    I. 


JoHK  xvii. 
These  words  spake  Jemm,  and  lifted  vp  his  eyes  to 
heaven,  and  said,  Father,  the  hour  is  come;  glo- 
rify thy  Son,  that  thy  Son  may  also gli/rify  thee: 
w3s  thou  hast  given  him  pou'er  over  alljlesh,  that 
he  should  give  eternal  life  to  as  many  as  thou 
hast  given  him.     -^nd  this  is  life  eternal,  that 
they  might  know  thee  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  icliom  thou  hast  sent.     I  have  glo- 
rified thee  on  tlie  earth:  Jhuvefmlihed  the  toork 
which  thou  gavest  me  to  do.     Jlnd  now,  0  Fa- 
ther, glorify  thou  me  with  thine  own  self,  loith 
tiu  glory  which  I  had  with  thee  before  the  world 
was.     I  have  vianifested  thy  name  unto  the  men 
which  thou  gavest  me  out  of  the  world:  thine 
they  were,  ami  thou  gavest  them  me;  and  they 
have  kept  thy  icord.     J^ow  they  have  known, 
that  all  things,  ichatsoever  t/iou  hast  given  me, 
are  of  thee:  For  I  have  given  unto  them  the 
words  which  thou  gavest  me;  and  they  have  re- 
ceived them,  and  have  known  surely  that  I  came 
out  from  thee,  and  they  have  believed  tliat  thou 
didst  send  me.     I  pray  for  them;  I  pray  not  for 
the  world,  but  for  them  which  thou  hast  given  me; 
for  they  are  thine.    Jlnd  all  mine  are  thine  and 
thine  are  mine;  and  I  am  glorified  in  them. 
Jlnd  now  I  am  no  more  in  the  world,  hut  these 
are  in  the  world,  and  I  come  to  thee.    Holy 
Father,  keep  through  thine  men  name  those 
wliom  thou  hast  given  me,  that  they  may  be  one, 
as  we  are.      While   I  was   with   them  in  the 
wmrld,  I  kept  them  in  thy  name;  those  that  thou 
gavest  me  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is  lost, 
but  the  son  of  perdition;  that  the    Scripture 
might  be  fulfilled.     Jlnd  now  come  I  to  thee; 
and  tluse  things  I  speak  in  the  world,  that  they 
might  have  my  joy  fulfdled  in  themselves.     I 
have  git'en.  them  my  word:  and  tlic  world  halh 
hated  them,  because  they  are  not  of  the  wm-ld, 
tven  as  I  am  not  of  the  ivorld.    I  pray  not  that 
thou  shouliht  lake  them  out  of  the  wm-ld,  but  that 
thou  shouldst  keep  them  from  the  evil.     They 
are  not  of  the  irorld,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the 
world.     Sanctify  them  through  thy  truth:  thy 
word  is  truth.     .'Js  thou  hast  sent  me  into  the 
world,  even  so  have  I  also  sent  them  into  the 
world.     Jlnd  for  their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself, 
VuU  tliey  also  might  be  sanctified  through  the 
truth.     J^either  pray  I  for  these  alone,  but  for 
them  also  which  shall  believe   on  me  through 
their  word;  that  they  all  may  be  one;  as  thou, 
Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee,  that  they  also 
may  be  one  in  us;  that  the  world  may  believe 
that  thou  hast  sent  nu.     Jlnd  the  glory  which 
thou  gavest  me  I  have  given  them;  that  they 
vuty  be  oiu,  even  as  we  are  one:  I  in  them,  and 
tlum  in  me,  that  they  may  he  made  perfect  in 
one;  and  that  the  world  may  knoto  that  thou 
hast  sent  me,  and  hail  Inved  them,  as  thou  hast 
loved  me.     Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom 
thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  lehere  I  am;  that 
they  may  behold  my  glory,  which  thou  hast  given 
nu:  for  thou  lovedst  me  before  the  fouiuialion 
of  the  world,    0  ri^lUeous  Father,  the  world 


hath  not  knmrn  tlue:  hut  I  hare  knmcn  thee, 
and  these  have  knoicn  that  thou  hast  sent  me. 
,1nd  I  have  declared  unto  them  thy  name,  and 
will  declare  it;  that   the  love  wherewith  thou 
hast  loved  nu  may  be  in  them,  and  I  in  them. 
The  words  of  dying   persons  usually  sink 
deep  into  the  listening  ear,  and  touch  the  in- 
most soul.    Ah!  why  are  not  the  impressions 
which  they  produce  as  lasting  as  they  are  lively! 
The  words  of  a  dying  pastor,  more  especially, 
seem  calculated  to  produce  an  extraordinary 
ellect. 

At  these  last  solemn  moments  of  life,  every 
motive  of  self-interest,  or  of  vain-glory,  by 
which  he  might  have  been  actuated  through 
the  course  of  his  ministry,  vanishes  away. 
Then  it  is  that  a  faithful  minister  derives  from 
the  bosom  of  that  religion  which  he  lias  taught 
to  otlicrs,  the  means  of  fortifying  himself 
against  the  idea  of  a  futurity  all  gloom,  if  a 
man  has  mere  human  reason  for  his  only  guide, 
but  all  light  and  joy  to  him  who  follows  the 
spirit  of  revelation.  Then  it  is  that  he  feels  a 
more  particular  concern  and  tenderness  for  the 
church,  and  that  now,  himself  lifted  up,  be 
would  draw  all  men  after  him. 

Wlicn  it  is  a  pastor  of  the  ordinary  rate  that 
expires,  no  other  consequence  can  be  deduced 
from  his  perseverance  to  the  last  but  this,  that 
he  had  preached  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
truth,  not  what  was  so  in  fact.  And  it  is  pos- 
sible he  may  deceive  himself  when  he  is  dying, 
as  he  pretended  not  to  infallibility  while  he 
lived.  Rut  the  death  of  those  extraordinary 
men,  who  have  established,  by  their  testimony, 
the  facts  on  %vhich  all  religion  rests,  is  the 
touchstone  of  tlie  doctrines  which  they  taught. 
As  it  was  impossible  they  should  have  been  de- 
ceived in  the  points  whicii  they  attest,  there 
can  remain  no  other  suspicion  to  atfect  their 
testimony,  but  this,  that  it  was  their  intention 
to  impose  upon  others:  and  this  suspicion  falls 
to  the  ground,  when  we  behold  them,  without 
deviation,  persisting  to  the  end  in  the  faith 
which  they  professed,  attesting  it  by  new  ap- 
peals to  heaven,  calling  God  to  witness  their 
sincerity,  and  their  innocence. 

All  these  different  considerations  unite  in  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ:  all  these  motives  to  at- 
tention, and  in  an  order  infmitely  superior,  fix 
our  meditation  on  the  words  which  have  been 
read.  Come  and  behold  the  sentiments  of  your 
Saviour  unfolded,  without  disguise:  come  and 
behold  tlie  most  lofty  display  of  the  human  soul 
tliat  ever  was  exhibited:  come  and  behold  whe- 
ther he,  for  one  moment,  doubted,  whether  he 
shrunk  back:  above  all,  come  and  behold  the 
charity  by  which  he  was  animated.  Ciiarity 
formed  the  plan  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  should 
offer,  and  charity  is  hastening  to  accomplish  it. 
Every  thought  of  this  dying  Jesus  is  employ- 
ed on  his  disciples:  is  employed  about  you,  my 
beloved  brethren.  "  Thine  they  were,  and 
thou  gavest  them  me.  I  pray  for  tliem.  I 
pray  for  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me:  keep 
them  through  thine  own  niune.  Neither  pray 
I  for  these  alone,  but  for  tiiem  also  which  sliall 
believe  on  me  througii  their  word." 

Such  are  the  objects,  my  friends,  which  I 
would  this  day  present  to  your  contemplation. 
I  put  aside  all  tiie  theological  controversies 
which  have  token  their  rise  from  tlio  poasagc 


Seh.  LXXII.] 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  I'RAYRR. 


157 


under  review.  My  only  aim  shall  be  to  recom- 
mend to  your  most  serious  attention  the  ex- 
pressions, one  after  another,  the  heart-affect- 
ing', the  penetrating  expressions  of  the  dyin|sj 
Saviour  of  mankind.  So  far  from  going  abroad 
in  quest  of  enemies  to  combat,  I  could  even 
wish  to  confine  my  address,  at  the  present 
hour,  to  such  of  my  hearers  as  have  a  iieart 
susee|)tible  of  those  tender  sentiments  with 
wliicii  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  inspires  all 
who  cordially  embrace  it.  On  hearts  possessed 
of  such  sensibility  I  could  wish  to  engrave  the 
last  expressions  of  the  Redeemer's  love:  I 
could  wish  this  sermon  might  accompany  you 
up  to  your  dying  hour:  1  could  wish  that,  in 
the  moment  of  expiring  agony,  you  might  be 
enabled  to  oppose,  to  the  fearful  threats  of  the 
king  of  terrors,  these  fervent  petitions  of  tiie 
Saviour  of  the  world,  which  set  open  to  you 
the  gates  of  heaven,  and  which  establish  your 
eternal  felicity  on  a  foundation  more  umnove- 
able  than  those  of  heaven  and  earth:  "  Father 
I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me 
bo  with  me  where  1  am;  that  they  may  beliold 
my  glory  which  thou  hast  given  me."  Amen. 
We  shall  arrange  our  subject  in  the  order  of 
the  three  following  ideas,  and  shall  endeavour 
to  point  out  to  you, 

I.  The  relation  in  which  Jesus  Christ  stands 
to  God. 

II.  The  relation  which  subsists  between  the 
apostles  and  Jesus  Christ. 

III.  The  relation  subsisting  between  believ- 
ers and  the  apostles. 

We  shall  distinguish  these  three  ideas  only 
for  the  purpose  of  afterward  establishing  and 
sublimating  the  mystery  of  their  union.  For 
the  perfect  obedience  which  Jesus  Christ  yield- 
ed to  the  supreme  will  of  his  heavenly  Father, 
has  united  him  to  God  in  a  manner  ineffable, 
so  that  he  is  one  with  God,  not  only  as  par- 
taking of  the  divine  nature,  but  considered  as 
a  creature. 

Again,  the  glorious  manner  in  which  the 
apostles  have  executed  the  functions  of  their 
apostleship;  having  not  only  believed  the  doc- 
trines which  their  master  taught  them,  but 
diffused  them  over  the  whole  world;  and,  like 
him,  sealed  them  with  their  own  blood,  has 
united  them  in  the  closest  intimacy  with  Jesus 
Christ,  so  that  they  are  "  one  with  them  as 
Jesus  Christ  is  one  with  the  Father." 

Finally,  the  respect  with  which  believers 
receive,  and  acquiesce  in,  the  doctrine  of  the 
apostles,  and  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  raises  them 
to  a  participation  of  the  same  exalted  glory 
and  felicity;  so  that  believers  being  united  with 
the  apostles,  the  apostles  with  Jesus  Christ, 
and  Jesus  Christ  with  God,  there  resultSj  from 
this  union,  a  society,  a  whole,  noble,  sublime, 
possessing  the  perfection  of  glory  and  blessed- 
ness. 

Now  it  is  the  complete  union  of  this  whole, 
it  is  the  perfection  of  this  communion  among 
all  these  orders  of  beings,  that  Jesus  Christ 
hero  asks  of  the  Father. 

I.  Let  us  first  examine  the  relations  in  which 

Jesus  Christ  stands  to  God.     Jesus  Christ  may 

bo  considered  under  two  different  ideas,  as 

God,  and  as  Mediator. 

There  are,  accordingly,  two  kinds  of  rela- 


tion, Bulwisting  between  God  and  Jesus  Christ: 
I.  A  relation  of  nature;  aii<l  2.  A  relation  of 
economy.  Jesus  as  God  is  "one  with  the  Fa- 
ther;" ho  is  likewise  so  in  his  character  of  Me- 
diator. 

1.  There  subsists  between  God  and  Christ  a 
unity  of  nature. 

We  perceive  more  than  one  proof  of  this  in 
the  words  of  my  text.  For  what  are  we  to 
uridorsland  by  "  that  glory"  of  which  Jesus 
Christ  speaks,  which  he  "had  with  the  Father 
before  the  world  was,"  unless  it  be  that  he  is 
God,  as  the  Father  is  God.' 

I  am  well  aware  that  in  the  very  chapter  we 
are  attempting  to  explain,  some  have  pretend- 
ed to  discover  an  argument  which  militates 
against  this  doctrine.  The  enemies  of  the  di- 
vinity of  our  idessed  J-.ord  have  frequently  em- 
ployed the  words  which  we  have  recited,  as  a 
bulwark  to  defend  their  error:  "this  is  life 
eternal,  that  they  might  know  thee  the  only 
true  God,  and  .lesus  Clirist  whom  thou  haat 
sent,"  ver.  3.  They  tell  us,  that  Jesus  Christ 
here  distinguishes  himself  from  "the  true 
God,"  and  they  have  thence  concluded,  that 
he  is  of  a  different  nature.  But  it  is  an  eaisy 
matter  to  refute  this  objection  by  permitting 
Jesus  Christ  to  explain  his  own  meaning,  and 
interpreting  Scripture  by  Scripture.  Let  us, 
from  other  passages,  see  how  Jesus  Christ  ha3 
distinguished  himself  from  the  true  God.  Is  it 
because  he  is  not  a  true  God?  By  no  means; 
for  it  is  expressly  declared  in  another  place, 
that  he  is  "  the  true  God,  and  eternal  life,"  1 
John,  V.  20. 

If  then,  Jesus  Christ  has  referred  to  two 
classes,  every  branch  of  Christian  knowledge: 
if  he  has  placed  in  one  class  the  knowledge 
relating  to  "tlic  true  God,"  and  in  the  other 
class,  all  knowledge  relating  to  the  Son,  whom 
the  true  God  has  sent  into  the  world,  this  is 
simply  reducing  the  whole  of  Christian  theo- 
logy to  the  two  great  questions  which  were  the 
subject  of  discussion  in  his  time,  and  which 
contained  a  summary  of  all  the  topics  which 
can  be  discussed  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
The  first  was  the  point  in  dispute  between  the 
|)agan  and  the  Jew:  the  other,  between  the 
Jew  and  the  Christian. 

The  matter  in  dispute  between  the  pagan  and 
the  Jew  w;is,  whether  there  were  only  one  God, 
or  more  than  one.  Respecting  this  question, 
Jesus  Christ  pronounces  a  clear  decision:  that 
"  eternal  life  consists  in  knowing  the  one  true 
God."  The  point  in  dispute  between  the  Jew 
iind  the  Christian  relates  to  Cluist's  being  the 
Messiah,  the  sent  of  God.  But  this  Jesus  whom 
God  has  sent,  is  he,  God  Creator,  or  is  he  a 
creature  merely?  Neither  the  negative  nor 
the  affirmative  side  of  this  question  is  directly 
established  in  these  words:  "  this  is  life  eternal, 
to  know  thee  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent."  Once  admit 
what  Jesus  Christ  demands  on  the  subject  of 
the  first  two  questions,  and  the  third  will 
presently  resolve  itself  For  if  we  know  that 
there  is  only  one  God,  and  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
sent  by  him,  wo  must  receive,  without  hesita- 
tion, the  doctrine  which  God  has  taught  us  by 
this  Son  whom  he  has  sent:  and  if  we  receive 
this  doctrine,  we  must  beUeve  from  the  doctrine 


158 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


[Ser.  LXXII. 


itaelf,  that  lie  who  is  seni  must  bo  God:  be- 
caiiuo  tlic  divinity  of  his  nature  is  one  jwint  of 
the  doi.'triiic  whicli  he  has  tauglit. 

TJiero  are,  tiierefore,  relations  of  nature  be- 
tween Jesus  Christ  and  God.  Tliere  is  a  unity 
of  Jesus  Christ  as  God  witl»  liis  Father.  There 
is  a  glory  which  Jesus  Christ  "  had  with  God, 
before  the  world  was,"  and  which  he  always 
possessed,  even  at  tiio  period  of  his  deepest 
humiliation.  This  union  is  as  unchangeable  as 
Deity  itself  The  glory  which  Jesus  Christ 
derives  from  it  is  not  Kusce])tible  of  increase  or 
diminution.  All  tiiat  ho  prays  for  in  respect 
of  it,  is,  that  it  might  be  known  among  men: 
and  in  this  sense  we  may  understand  the  ex- 
pression in  our  te.Tt:  "  Father,  glorify  me  with 
the  glory  which  1  had  with  thee,  before  the 
world  was,"  ver.  5.     But, 

2.  Tliere  subsists  likewise  a  relation  of  eco- 
nomy between  Jesus  Christ  and  the  Father. 
Jesus  Christ  as  Mediator  is  "one  with  God." 
I  have  a  conception  of  three  kinds  of  Unity  in 
this  respect:  1.  Unity  of  idea:  2.  Unity  of  will: 
3.  Unity  of  dominion. 

(1.)  There  is  a  unity  of  idea.  I  mean,  that 
the  human  soul  of  Jesus  Christ  Mediator  was 
endowed  with  so  much  intelligence,  that  he 
had  the  same  ideas  with  God,  that  he  formed 
the  same  judgments,  and  that  he  possessed 
the  same  infallibility.  This  truth  had  been 
predicted  of  him  by  the  prophets:  "the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  God  is  upon  me:  because  the  Lord 
hath  anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto 
the  meek,"  Is.  l.\i.  1.  It  was  taught  by  Jesus 
Christ  himself:  "my  doctrine  is  not  mine,  but 
his  that  sent  me,"  John  vii.  16.  "  I  am  the 
light  of  the  world:  he  that  followeth  me  shall 
not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the  light 
of  life,"  John  viii.  12.  It  is  the  foundation  of 
the  faith  which  we  have,  in  the  truths  which 
flowed  from  his  lips. 

But  however  perfect  this  unity  may  have 
been,  it  was  nevertheless  susceptible  of  degrees. 
Jesus  Christ,  considered  as  Mediator,  never 
could  be  in  an  error,  but  he  did  not  always  know 
the  whole  truth.  He  had  not  in  the  cradle  the 
same  extent  of  knowledge  which  he  possessed 
at  the  age  of  "  twelve  years,"  Luke  ii.  42; 
when  in  the  temple,  he,  by  his  profound  know- 
ledge, excited  astonishment  in  the  most  learned 
of  the  doctors.  Most  probably,  likewise,  he 
did  not  yet  possess  at  the  age  of  twelve  years, 
the  illumination  which  ho  attained  unto  in  the 
sequel  of  his  ministry.  The  evangelist  ex- 
pressly remarks  that  "  ho  grew,  and  waxed 
strong  in  spirit,  filled  with  wisdom,"  Luke  ii. 
40.  Never  did  he  attain  during  his  abode  on 
earth  that  height  of  intelligence  which  he  had, 
after  his  ascension  into  heaven.  It  is  expressly 
said,  that,  as  "the  Son  of  man,"  ho  "knew 
not  the  day"  of  judgment.  The  soul,  to  which 
his  mortal  body  was  united,  acquired,  un- 
doubtedly, after  that  body  left,  the  tomb,  an 
extension  of  knowledge  which  it  had  not,  so 
long  as  the  body  to  which  it  was  united  was 
yet  in  a  mortal  condition.  This  is  the  first 
glory  that  Jesus  Christ  a.skH  of  his  Father.  He 
prays  that  ho  would  grant  him  to  partake,  in 
a  manner  moro  mtimatc,  in  his  counsels,  and 
to  draw  from  tho  uiiiiouiided  ocean  of  light 
more  abundant  supplies  of  divine  wisdom  and 
knowledge:  "  Father,  the  hour  is  come,  glorify 


thy  Son,  that  thy  Son  also  may  glorify  thee," 
ver.  1. 

(2.)  The  second  unity,  subsistmg  between 
JesuB  Christ  Mediator  and  the  Father,  is  a 
unity  of  will.  Observe  to  what  an  extent  it 
has  been  carried.  The  incarnation  was  an 
etfect  of  the  entire  submission  of  this  divine 
Saviour  to  the  will  of  his  Father:  "  when  he 
cometh  into  the  world,  he  saith,  Sacrifice  and 
oilbring  thou  wouldst  not,  but  a  body  hast 
thou  prepared  me:  in  burnt-offerings  and  sa- 
crifices for  sin  thou  hast  had  no  pleasure:  then 
said  I,  Lo,  I  come  (in  the  volume  of  the  book 
it  is  written  of  me,)  to  do  thy  will,  O  God," 
Ileb.  X.  6 — 7.  When  Josej)h  and  Alary  found 
fault  with  him  for  having  parted  company 
with  them,  ho  replied,  "how  is  it  that  ye 
sought  me.'  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about 
my  Father's  business?"  Luke  ii.  49.  When 
his  disciples  presented  him  with  food,  "  saying. 
Master  eat:  he  said  unto  them,  1  have  meat 
to  cat  that  ye  know  not  of:  ....  my  meat  is 
to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish 
his  work,"  John  iv.  31,  &c.;  and,  in  the  text, 
he  says,  that  for  the  "  sake"  of  the  disciples 
whom  the  Father  had  given  him,  he  "  sancti- 
fied himself." 

It  is,  however,  demonstrably  certain,  that  in 
proportion  as  the  human  soul  acquires  more 
light  and  knowledge,  according  as  it  is  less  dis- 
tracted by  the  sinless  infirmities  of  nature,  it 
takes  the  loftier  flight  towards  the  love  of 
order,  and  conceives  a  more  powerful  attach- 
ment to  tiie  sovereign  will  of  Heaven.  There 
were  certain  moments  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ,  during  his  abode  on  earth,  in  which  he 
was  entirely  absorbed  by  those  objects  which 
incessantly  engage  the  attention  of  the  angels 
of  God.  He  was  led  of  the  Spirit  into  the 
wilderness;  there  "  he  fasted  forty  days  and 
forty  nights,"  Matt.  iv.  2;  and  these  days  and 
nights  were,  undoubtedly,  passed  in  contem- 
plation,  in  rapture,  in  an  ecstacy  of  zeal  and 
fervour.  But  after  these  forty  days  and  forty 
nights  were  over,  "  he  was  afterwards  an  hun- 
gered." 

In  like  manner,  he  beheld  the  glory  of  God 
on  tho  holy  mountain,  and  the  transfiguration 
which  he  underwent,  kindled  to  a  higher  and 
a  higher  degree,  the  desire  which  he  felt,  to 
discharge,  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  exalted 
character,  the  commission  which  ho  had  re- 
ceived of  tho  Father.  But  those  rays  of  glory 
were  to  be  eclipsed,  and  from  that  sacred  place 
ho  must  descend.  During  the  whole  course 
of  his  life,  he  kept  constantly  in  view  the  end 
of  his  mission,  ho  expressed  many  an  ardent 
wish  to  accomplish  the  sacrifice  which  he  came 
into  the  world  to  oiler  up. 

But  at  the  idea  of  death  he  is  for  a  season 
in  heaviness:  there  is  on  ajtpearance  of  desir- 
ing, as  it  wore,  to  compound  matters  with 
Deity;  and  this,  some  interpreters  consider  as 
tho  sense  of  these  words:  "  Father,  if  it  bo 
possible,  let  tiiis  cup  pass  from  me,  that  I  may 
not  drink  it,"  Matt.  xxvi.  39;  and,  perhaps,  it 
is  likewise  the  sense  of  those  which  follow: 
"now  is  my  soul  troubled:  and  what  shall  I 
say?  Father,  save  mo  from  this  hour,"  John 
xii.  27.  Not  that  Jesus  (,'hrist  over  thought 
he  could  bo  saved  from  that  hour,  or  delivered 
from  drinking  that  cup  which  was  going  to 


Ser.  LXXII.] 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


159 


be  put  into  his  hand,  but  it  was  the  language 
of  innocent  iiuman  infirniity,  excited  by  tlie 
first  ideas  of  extreme  approaching  agony.  It 
is  only  in  tlie  possession  of  perfect  blessedness, 
that  our  virtues  shall  acquire  all  the  activity, 
all  tiie  extent,  of  which  they  are  susceptible. 
And  it  is,  yes,  it  is  this  activity,  it  is  this  ex- 
tent of  virtue,  which  had  the  power  of  still 
farther  strengthening  the  hand  which  united 
Jesus  Christ  to  his  Father.  For  this  reason  it 
is  that  he  promises  to  the  glory  of  God,  that 
return  and  increase  of  glory  which  he  asks  of 
him:  "  Fatljcr,  glorify  thy  Son,  that  thy  Son 
also  may  glorily  thee,"  ver.  1. 

(3.)    In  tlio  third   place,  there  subsists  be 


and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the 
King  of  glory  shall  come  in,"  I's.  xxiv.  7. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  habitation  of  his  glory, 
he  assumes  his  place  at  the  Father's  right 
hand.  And  thence  it  is  that  he  exercises  the 
dominion  to  which  his  sufferings  and  death 
have  exalted  him:  thence  it  is  he  beholds  tho 
impotent  designs  of  the  enemies  of  the  church, 
and,  to  use  theexpression  of  Scripture,  "  laughs 
at  them,"  Ps.  ii.  4.  Thence  it  is  he  brings 
down  to  the  ground  the  heads  of  the  haughtiest 
potentates;  thence  it  is  he  controls  tho  power 
of  tyrants,  or  permits  it  to  act,  and  to  accom- 
plish his  purpose;  thence  it  is  ho  bends  his  eyes 
upon  us,  my  brethren;  that  he  hears,  and  re- 


tween  the  Father  and  the  Son,  a  unity  of  do-    gards,  and  answers  the  prayers  which,  m  our 
minion.      Magniiicent   displays  of  this  were    indigence,  we  present  at  the  throne  of  grace; 

thence  it  is  he  beholds  St.  Stephen,  and  grants 


visible  even  while  our  blessed  Lord  tabernacled 
among  men.  Is  the  expression  too  strong,  if 
we  say,  that  God  Almighty,  when  he  sent  Je- 
sus Christ  into  the  world,  made  him  the  de- 
positary of  his  omnipotence.'  The  winds,  the 
waves,  men,  devils,  life,  death,  the  elements, 
universal  nature,  all,  all  submitted  to  his  sove- 
reign will. 

But,  if  the  power  of  Jesus  Christ  was  un- 
bounded, as  considered  in  itself,  it  was  limited, 
however,  in  its  exercise.  It  was  no  easy 
matter,  to  discover  the  depositary  of  the  di- 
vine omnipotence  in  the  person  of  that  Man, 
consigned  over  to  the  hands  of  executioners, 
dragged  before  a  tribunal  of  iniquity,  and 
nailed  to  a  cro.ss.  There  is  a  dominion,  with 
which  it  implies  a  contradiction  to  suppose 
Jesus  Christ  invested  before  he  suffered  death, 
for  this  dominion  was  to  be  expressly  the  re- 
ward of  suffering:  "  he  humbled  himself,  and 
became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death 
of  the  cross.  Wherefore,  God  also  hath  high- 
ly exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name  which 
is  above  every  name;  that  at  the  name  of  Je- 
sus every  knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven, 
and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  tho 
earth:  and  that  every  tongue  sliould  confess 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of  God 
tho  Father,"  Phil.  ii.  8 — 11:  and  in  the  second 
Psalm,  ver.  8,  9,  "  Ask  of  me,  and  I  will  give 
thee  the  heathen  for  thine  inheritance,  and  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  thy  possession. 
Thou  shalt  break  them  with  a  rod  of  iron, 
thou  shalt  dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's 
vessel." 

This  is  the  dominion  of  which  he  took  pos- 
session. On  the  third  day  after  his  death, 
angels  alight  upon  his  tomb,  not  to  effect  his 
resurrection  from  the  dead,  but  to  admire  the 
wonders  of  it;  to  render  their  profoundest 
homage  to  that  divine  Man,  the  only  dead 
person  who  had  ever  revived  by  his  own  power; 
and  to  yield  obedience  to  that  mandate  of  the 
great  Supreme:  "  let  all  the  angels  of  God 
worship  him,"  Heb.  i.  6.  Forty  days  after  his 
resurrection,  ho  makes  a  cloud  to  serve  him  as 
a  triumphal  chariot,  on  which  he  is  home  aloft, 
and  disappears  from  tho  eyes  of  his  beloved 
disciples.  As  he  ascends  tlirough  the  regions 
of  the  air,  to  occupy  a  throne  above  the  skies, 
the  church  triumphant,  and  all  the  spirits  in 
bliss,  unite  in  celebrating  his  return  to  lieaven, 
with  songs  of  praise:  the  celestial  arches  re- 
sound with  tlieir  joyful  acclamations,  while 
they  cry  aloud,  "  liil  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 


the  petition  of  that  martyr,  from  amidst  the 
shower  of  stones  which  is  overwhelming  him: 
"  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit,"  Acts  vii.  59. 
Thence  it  is  he  draws  to  himself  the  souls  of 
our  expiring  believers,  and  says  to  all  those 
who  combat  under  the  banner  of  the  cross: 
"  To  him  tliat  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit 
with  me  in  my  throne,"  Rev.  iii.  21.  "Be 
thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a 
crown  of  life,"  llev.  ii.  10. 

Such  is  the  glory  which  must  follow  the 
sufferings  and  death  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  Such  must  be  the  perfection  of  that 
unity  which  subsists  between  Jesus  Christ  the 
Mediator  and  his  Father:  "  Father,  the  hour 
is  come:  glorify  thy  Son,  that  thy  Son  also 
may  glorily  thee.  ...  I  have  manifested  thy 
name  unto  the  men  whom  thou  gavest  me  out 
of  the  world.  .  .  .  Those  that  thou  gavest  me 
I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is  lost  but  the  son 
of  perdition.  ...  I  have  glorified  thee  on  the 
earth:  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do:  and  now,  O  Father,  glorify 
thou  me  with  thine  own  self,  with  the  glory  I 
had  with  thee,  before  the  world  was." 


SERMON  LXXII. 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 

PART    II: 


JoH.VT  xvii.  18 — 21 
«ÎS  thou  hast  sent  me  into  the  world,  even  so  have 
I  also  sent  them  into  the  xcorld.  Jlnd  for 
their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself,  that  tluy  also 
might  be  sanctified  through  the  truth.  ^Veither 
pray  I  foi-  these  alone,  but  for  them  also  tchich 
shall  believe  on  me  through  their  word:  that 
tluy  all  may  be  one;  as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me. 
and  J  in  thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  its: 
that  the  world  may  believe  that  thou  hast  sent 
me. 

We  have  seen  the  relation  which  subsists 
between  Jesus  Christ  and  his  heavenly  Father. 
1.  A  relation  of  nature,  implied  in  that  "  glory 
which  he  had  with  the  Father  before  the  world 
was."  2.  There  is  a  relation  of  cconomv: 
Jesus  Christ  as  Mediator  is  "  one  with  God'" 
And  this  relation  consists  of  three  particulars: 
1.  Unity  of  idea:  2.  Unity  of  will:  3.  Unity  of 
dominion.    Let  us, 


160 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


[Ser.  LXXII. 


II.  Consider  Uie  relation  subsisting  between 
Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles,  not  in  their  cha- 
ractpr  simply,  of  believers  in  Christ,  but  prin- 
cipally in  tlic  view  of  their  juiblic  character  a.s 
apostles.  Let  us  inquire,  in  what  sense  it  is 
that  Jesus  Christ  makes  it  his  refjuest,  that 
they  may  be  one  with  the  P'atlier  and  with 
himself,  as  he  Wiis  one  with  the  Father.  This 
is  the  second  object,  this  the  second  mystery, 
to  which  we  now  call  upon  you  to  direct  yqur 
serious  attention. 

Weigh  tlie  import  of  these  remarkable 
words:  "  As  thou  hast  sent  me  into  the  world, 
even  so  have  I  also  sent  tiicm  into  the  world: 
and  for  their  sakes  I  .«ianctify  myself,  that  they 
also  might  be  sanctified  through  the  truth." 
Jesus  Christ  had  entered  into  the  plan  of  the 
eternal  Father,  resi)ecting  the  .salvation  of  the 
human  race;  and  had  cotno  into  the  world  to 
put  it  in  execution.  It  was  necessary,  in  like 
manner,  that  the  apostles  should  enter  into 
the  plan  of  this  divine  Saviour,  and  to  the 
utmost  extent  of  their  ability,  should  labour, 
together  with  liim,  in  executing  the  merciful 
design.  And  as  Jesus  Christ,  in  order  to  ac- 
quit himself,  with  success,  of  this  ministry 
which  was  committed  unto  bin),  must  have 
possessed,  with  the  Father,  a  unity  of  idea,  of 
v;ill,  and  of  dominion,  it  was  likewise  neces- 
sary that  the  apostles  should  possess  this  three- 
fold unity  with  Jesus  C'brist,  and  this  precisely 
is  the  substance  of  what  Jesus  Christ  prays  for 
in  their  behalf 

1.  In  order  to  accjuit  themselves  successfully 
of  the  functions  of  their  ministry,  it  was  ne- 
cessary that  the  apostles  should  i)articipate  in 
the  ideas  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  infalli- 
bility of  his  doctrine.  He  had  himself  said  to 
them,  "  He  that  heareth  you  hearetli  me," 
Luke  X.  16.  He  had  given  them  tliis  com- 
mission: "  Go  ye,  and  teach  all  nations,  bap- 
tizing them  in  the  name  of  tho  Father,  of  the 
Son,  and  of  tho  Holy  Spirit:  and,  lo,  I  am 
with  you,  always,  even  to  the  end  of  the 
world,"  Matt,  xxviii.  19,  20. 

How  could  they  possibly  have  executed 
this  commission  to  any  advantage,  unless  they 
had  participated  in  tjie  ideas  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  in  the  infallibility  of  his  decisions'  What 
dépendance  could  we  repose  on  their  testi- 
mony had  it  been  liable  to  error?  How  should 
we  implicitly  admit  the  oracles  which  emanat- 
ed from  tho  aiwstolic  college,  if  they  were  to 
be  subjected  to  examination  at  the  tribunal  of 
human  reason,  as  those  of  mere  Imman  teach- 
era'  The  slightest  alteration  aftecting  the  as- 
sertion of  the  infallibility  of  tho  doctrine  of 
these  holy  men,  subverts  it  from  tho  very 
foundation.  Tho  moment  that  human  reiuson 
aaaumes  a  right  to  appeal  from  their  decisions, 
it  is  all  over,  and  we  are  at  once  brought  back 
to  tho  religion  of  nature.  And  the  moment 
wo  are  brought  back  to  tho  religion  of  nature, 
we  are  bewildered  in  all  the  uncertainty  of  the 
human  understanding;  we  are  still  "  seeking 
tho  Ixjrd,  if  haply  we  miglit  feel  after  him  and 
find  him,"  Acts  xvii.  iiT,  as  did  tlio  Pagan 
world.  We  are  still  saving,  ils  did  the  greatest 
philosophers  of  the  gentile  nations,  respecting 
inquiries  of  the  highest  importance  to  nian- 
kindj    W7j«  tan    IcU?  I'aadvaUurc.     Wo   are 


treating  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  aa  we  do  So- 
crates and  Seneca. 

Now,  if  such  be  our  condition,  what  advan- 
tage has  the  Christian  over  tho  pagan'  Where- 
in consists  the  su|)criority  of  the  gospel  over 
the  systems  of  mere  human  i)hilo8ophy?  Away 
with  a  suspicion  so  injurious  to  the  great  Au- 
thor and  Finisher  of  our  faith.  He  has  8U|>- 
plied  his  church  with  every  thing  necessar}-  to 
a  clear  knowledge,  and  a  well  grounded  be- 
lief of  all  needful  truth.  When  he  committed 
to  the  hands  of  his  di8ci(>les  the  ministry  of  his 
gospel,  he  obtained  for  them,  in  substance,  the 
illun)ination  which  himself  possessed,  for  the 
successful  exercise  of  it. 

2.  But  is  it  surticient  to  possess  superior  il- 
lumination, in  order  to  the  honourable  and 
useful  exercise  of  the  Christian  ministry?  Is 
it  sufficient  to  "speak  with  the  tongues  of  men 
and  of  angels?"  Is  it  sufficient  to  be  endowed 
with  the  "gift  of  prophecy:  to  understand  all 
mysteries,  to  have  all  knowledge?"  1  Cor.  xiii. 
1.  Ah!  how  fruitless  are  the  most  pathetic 
sermons,  if  the  preacher  himself  pretends  to 
exemption  from  the  obligations  which  ho 
would  impose  upon  other  men!  Ah!  how 
the  most  dazzling  and  sublime  eloquence  lan- 
guishes, when  tarnished  by  the  vices  of  the 
orator!  This  position,  my  brethren,  admits 
not  of  a  doubt:  and  let  the  retlection,  however, 
humiliating,  be  ever  present  to  our  thoughts: 
one  of  the  most  insiumountable  obstacles  to 
the  efficacy  of  preaching,  is  the  irregular  lives 
of  |)rcacliers. 

If  this  reflection,  at  all  times,  rests  on  a  solid 
foundation,  it.  was  particularly  the  case  with 
regard  to  those  ministers  whom  God  set  apart 
to  tho  office  of  laying  the  very  first  founda- 
tions of  his  church,  and  to  be  themselves  "the 
pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth,"  1  Tim.  iii.  15. 
With  what  dreadful  suspicions  must  not  our 
minds  have  been  perplexed,  had  we  seen  in 
tho  persons  whom  Jesus  Christ  himself  im- 
mediately chose  to  be  his  successors,  the  abo- 
minations which  are  visible  in  many  of  those 
who,  at  this  day,  pretend  to  fill  his  place  in 
the  church?  What  dreadful  suspicions  would 
agitate  our  minds,  had  St.  Peter  lived  in  the 
manner  of  some  of  those  who  have  called 
tliemsclves  the  successors  of  St.  Peter?  If  out 
of  the  same  mouth,  from  which  issued  those 
gracious  maxims  which  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
preserved  for  our  instruction,  there  had  pro- 
ceeded, at  tho  same  time,  those  iniquitous  sen- 
tences, those  sanguinary  decrees,  those  insolent 
decisions,  which  have  fulminated  from  the 
mouths  of  certain  ponliils  bearing  the  Chris- 
tian name?  If  these  same  apostles,  who  preach- 
ed nothing  but  superiority  to  tho  world,  no- 
thing but  humility,  but  charity,  but  patience, 
but  chastity,  had  been,  like  some  of  their  pro- 
tended successors,  addicted  to  tho  spirit  and 
practice  of  revenge,  of  ambition,  of  simonjr; 
magicians,  fornicators;  men  polluted  with 
abcjminations  which  tho  majesty  of  this  place, 
and  the  sanctity  of  the  pulpit,  hardly  permit 
me  to  insinuate?  What  must  not  have  been 
the  infamy  of  committing  such  things,  when 
the  bore  idea  of  them  puts  modesty  to  Uie 
blush? 

O  how  much  better  has  Jesus  Clirist,  our 


Ser.  LXXII.] 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


161 


great  leader  and  commander,  provided  wliat- 
ever  was  necessary  for  the  good  of  his  church! 
During  the  wliolo  course  of  his  Hfe,  he  pre- 
sented a  model  of  tlie  most  pure  and  consum- 
mate virtue.  One  of  the  great  ends  of  his  dc- 
votedness  to  death,  was  to  engage  his  beloved 
disciples  thence  to  derive  motives  to  the  prac- 
tice of  holiness;  this  is  the  sense  wliich  may 
be  assigned  to  that  expression  in  the  prayer, 
which  he  here  addresses  to  his  Father:  "  Kor 
their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself,  that  they  may  he 
siinclified,"  ver.  19.  "  For  them  I  sanctify  my- 
self:" the  meaning  may  be,  "  I  labour  inces- 
santly to  e.vcite  thy  love  within  me  to  a  bright- 
er and  a  brighter  flame,  not  only  because  it  is 
a  disposition  of  soul  the  most  becoming  an  in- 
telligent creature,  but  that  I  may  serve  as  a 
model  to  thcin  who  are  to  difl'use  the  know- 
ledge of  my  gospel  over  tlic  world." 

Or,  according  to  the  interpretation  of  others, 
"  for  them  I  sanctify  myself,  that  they  may  be 
sanctified,"  that  is,  "  I  devote  myself  to  death 
for  my  disciples,  to  the  end  that,  beholding  in 
my  sacrifice  the  horrors  of  sin,  which  I  am 
about  to  e.\piate,  and  the  overflowings  of  my 
affection  for  those  in  whose  place  I  am  sub- 
stituting myself,  they  may  be  engaged  to  ex- 
hibit an  inviolable  attachment  to  thy  holy 
laws."  Which  ever  of  these  two  senses  we  af- 
fix to  the  words  of  our  blessed  Lord,  they 
strongly  mark  that  intense  application  of 
thought  by  which  he  was  animated,  to  inspire 
his  disciples  with  the  love  of  virtue. 

This  is  not  all,  he  is  expressing  an  earnest 
wish,  that  assistance  from  Heaven  might  sup- 
ply what  his  absence  was  going  to  deprive 
them  of:  "  For  them  I  sanctify  myself,  tliat 
they  may  be  sanctified."  But  now  1  leave  the 
world.  My  disciples  are  going  to  lose  the  be- 
nefit of  my  instructions,  and  of  my  example. 
May  a  celestial  energy,  may  divine  communi- 
cations of  resolution  and  strength  occupy  my 
place:  "  I  pray  not  thou  shouldst  take  them 
out  of  the  world,  but  that  thou  shouldst  keep 

them  from  the  evil Sanctify  them 

through  thy  truth:  thy  word  is  truth:  as  thou 
hast  sent  me  into  the  world,  even  so  have  I 
also  sent  them  into  the  world;  and  for  their 
sakes  I  sanctify  myself,  that  tiiey  also  might 
be  sanctified  through  the  truth." 

3.  Finally,  Jesus  Christ  asks,  in  behalf  of 
his  disciples,  a  participation  in  the  dominion  of 
which  he  himself  had  taken  possession.  He 
had  already,  in  part  conveyed  to  them  that 
dominion:  "  The  glory  which  thou  gavest 
me,  I  have  given  them;  that  they  may  be 
one,  even  as  wo  are  one,"  ver.  22.  What  is 
that  glory,  wliich  the  Father  had  ^iven  to  Jesiis 
Christ,  and  which  Jesus  Christ  had  given  to 
his  apostles?  Among  a  variety  of  ideas  which 
may  be  formed  of  it,  we  must,  in  a  particular 
manner,  understand  it  as  implying  the  gift  of 
miracles.  In  virtue  of  this  power,  those  sa- 
cred ministers  were  enabled  to  carry  convic- 
tion to  the  human  mind,  with  an  energy  of 
eloquence  altogether  divine.  The  resurrection 
of  one  who  had  been  dead  is  the  great  exor- 
dium of  their  semions.  This  argument  they 
oppose  to  all  the  sophisms  of  vain  philosophy: 
"  This  Jesus  hath  God  raised  up,  whereof  we 
all  are  witnesses;  therefore  being  by  the  right 

hand  of  God  exalted he  hath  shed 

Vol.  II.— 21 


forth  this  which  yo  now  see  and  hear,"  Acts 
ii.  32,  33.  They  confound  those  who  continue 
proof  against  conviction.  They  call  down  the 
most  formidable  strokes  of  celestial  indigna- 
tion on  some  of  those  who  had  dared  to  trifle 
with  the  oath  of  fidelity  plighted  to  their  di- 
vine Master.  Ananias  and  Sapphira  fall  dead 
at  their  feet,  Acts  v.  9.  "  The  weapons  of 
our  warfare  are  not  carnal,  but  mighty,  through 
God,  to  the  pulling  down  of  strong  holds,  cast- 
ing down  imaginations,  and  every  high  thing 
that  exalteth  itself  against  the  knowledge  of 
God,  and  bringing  into  captivity  every  thought 
to  the  obedience  of  Christ:  and  having  in  a 
readiness  to  revenge  all  disobedience,"  2  Cor. 
X.  4— G. 

Rut  this  is  not  the  whole  of  that  authority, 
and  the  whole  of  that  power,  which  Jesus 
Christ  wishes  to  be  conferred  on  his  disciples. 
He  asks,  in  their  behalf,  that  when  they  had, 
like  him,  finished  the  work  which  they*  had 
given  them  to  do,  they  should  be  exalted  to  the 
same  glory;  that  after  having  "  turned  many 
to  righteousness,"  they  might  "  shine  as  the 
brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  as  the  stars 
for  ever  and  ever,"  Dan.  xii.  3.  This  is  what 
he  had  promised  them:  "  I  appoint  unto  you  a 
kingdom,  as  my  P''atlier  hath  appointed  unto 
mc;  that  ye  may  cat  and  drink  at  my  table  in 
my  kingdom,  and  sit  on  thrones  judging  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel."  This  is  what  he  asks 
for  them:  "  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom 
thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am; 
that  they  may  behold  my  glory  which  thou  hast 
given  me:  for  thou  lovedst  nic  before  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world  ....  that  they  all  may 
be  one,  as  thou.  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in 
thee:  that  they  also  may  bo  one  in  us,"  ver. 
24.  21. 

We  conclude  this  head  witii  a  reflection  of 
no  small  importance:  namely  this,  that  among 
the  graces  which  Jesus  Christ  prays  for  in  be- 
half of  his  apostles,  must  be  comprehended  those 
which  were  necessary  to  the  persons  who  were 
after  them  to  exercise  the  gospel  ministry. 
Wiiatever  difference  there  may  be  between 
these  two  orders  of  ministers,  they  are  the  ob- 
jects of  the  same  prayer.  Their  talents  were 
to  differ  only  in  degree,  and  God,  at  this  day, 
limits  the  measure  of  them,  only  because  cir- 
cumstances have  varied,  and  miracles  are  no 
longer  necessary  to  the  church.  But  as  the 
apostles  had,  in  substance,  the  same  gifts  with 
Jesus  Christ,  the  ministers  of  the  gospel  like- 
wise partake  in  the  gifts  of  the  apostles,  because 
they  have  received  the  same  commission,  and 
are  called  to  build  up  the  church,  of  which  those 
holy  men  laid  the  foundations. 

Lofty  idea  of  the  aposlleship!  lofly  idea  of 
the  office  of  the  gospel  ministry!  The  apostles 
entered  with  Jesus  Christ  into  the  plan  of  the 
redemption  of  mankind,  as  Jesus  Christ  entered 
into  it  with  God.  And  the  ministers  of  the 
gospel,  to  this  day,  enter  into  the  same  plan 
wit  il  the  apostles,  as  the  apostles  entered  into 
it  with  Jesus  Christ.  The  eternal  Father, 
"  before  the  foundation  of  the  world,"  Matt. 
XXV.  34,  foreseeing  the  deplorable  misery  in 
which  tlie  wretched  progeny  of  Adam  were  to 

*  The  Krriich  reads, qu'il  leurdouac  a  Ciirc,  which  Ac 
had  given  Uicm  to  do.    I.  S. 


162 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


[Ser.  LXXII. 


involve  themselves,  traced  tlio  plan  of  redemp- 
tion: from  that  period  he  provided  the  victim: 
from  that  period  ho  set  apart  for  us  a  Redeemer: 
from  tlial  period,  he  prepared  for  us  a  kingdom. 
Jesus  Christ,  in  tho  fulness  of  time,  came  and 
executed  this  plan.  He  assumed  our  llesh. 
He  lived  among  us.  He  sulfercd.  He  died. 
"  I  have  glorified  thee  upon  the  earth.  I  have 
finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  mo  to  do," 
ver.  4. 

The  apostles  succeeded  their  Master.  And 
these  holj  men,  with  that  heroic  courage  wliich 
the  idea  of  a  commission  so  honourable  inspires 
into  generous  minds,  braved  and  surmounted 
all  the  ditliculties  which  ojjposcd  their  progress. 
"  They  trod  upon  the  lion  and  adder:  tlie  young 
lion  and  dragon  they  trampled  under  feet,"  I's. 
ici.  13.  "  Power  was  given  them  to  tread  on 
serpents  and  scorpions,  and  over  all  tlie  power 
of  the  enemy,"  Luke  x.  19.  'J'hey  took  as  a 
model  in  their  course  (it  is  an  idea  of  the  psalm- 
ist,) that  glorious  orb  of  day,  whose  "going 
forth  is  from  tho  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his 
circuit  unto  the  ends  of  it,"  Ps.  xix.  6.  "  Yes, 
verily,  their  sound  went  into  all  the  earth,  and 
their  words  unto  the  ends  of  the  world,"  Rom. 
X.  18.  They  rose  superior  to  the  powei-s  of 
sense  and  nature:  they  subdued  the  passions 
which  have  naturally  the  greatest  influence 
over  the  heart  of  man:  they  "  knew  no  man 
after  the  flesh,"  2  Cor.  v.  16.  They  carried  on 
their  souls  the  impress  of  their  Saviour's  vir- 
tues, as  they  bare  liis  marks  imprinted  on  their 
bodies. 

The  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ  assume  the 
place  of  the  apostles:  they  have  one  and  tiie 
same  vocation:  they  are  called  to  the  same 
work:  they  have  to  teach  the  same  truths;  the 
same  vices  to  reprove;  the  same  maxims  to 
establish;  the  same  threatenings  to  denounce; 
the  same  consolations  to  administer;  the  same 
felicity  and  the  same  glory  to  promise.  "Who 
is  sufficient  for  these  things.'"  2  Cor.  ii.  16.  But 
we  are  upheld  by  you,  all-powerful  intercession 
of  Jesus  Christ  with  his  Father!  From  your 
energy  it  is  that  we  obtain,  in  our  retirement, 
that  attention,  that  composure,  that  concen- 
tration of  thought  of  which  we  stand  in  need, 
in  order  to  penetrate  into  those  lively  or.acles 
which  it  is  our  duty  to  announce  to  this  people. 
From  your  powerful  energy  it  is  we  obtain  tliat 
clearness,  that  fervour,  that  courage,  that  ele- 
vation of  spirit  of  which  we  stand  in  need  in 
this  chair  of  verity,  to  exalt  us  above  the  ma- 
lignant censure  of  a  mummring  multitude,  ever 
disposed  to  find  fault  with  those  who  preach  the 
truth.  To  you  we  must  stand  for  ever  indebted 
for  the  success  of  our  ministry,  and  for  the  hope 
we  entertain  that  this  people,  to  whom  we  mi- 
nister in  holy  things,  shall  one  day  bo  "  our  joy 
and  our  crown,"  1  Thcss.  ii.  19. 

HI.  Thus  are  we  led  forward,  my  brethren, 
to  the  third  division  of  our  discourse,  in  which 
you  are  most  particularly  interested.  It  is  truly 
delightful  to  behold  "  the  Author  and  Finisher 
of  our  faith"  united,  in  a  manner  so  intimate 
with  tho  Deity.  It  is  delightfid  to  behold  those 
apostles,  whoso  writings  are  in  our  hands,  and 
whose  doctrine  is  the  rule  of  our  faith,  inti- 
mately united  to  Jesus  Christ  as  he  is  with  God. 
There  is,  however,  something  behind  still  more 
purticulu:  and  luoro  consolatory.    All  tliusc  | 


different  relations,  of  Jesus  Christ  witli  God, 
of  the  apostles  with  Jesus  Christ,  have  been 
formed  only  in  the  view  of  producing  others, 
and  these  allect  you.  Attend  to  the  interest 
which  you  have  in  tho  jirayer  of  Jesus  Christ: 
"  Neither  ])ray  I  for  these  alone,  but  for  them 
also  which  shall  believe  on  nie  through  their 
word:  that  they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou,  Father, 
art  in  me,  and  1  in  thee;  that  they  also  may  be 
one  in  us,"  ver.  20,  21. 

Awake  to  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  your  high 
calling,  contemplate  the  unbounded  extent  of 
your  privileges.  Heboid  to  what  a  height  of 
glory  you  are  encouragt-d  to  aspire,  and  what 
unspcakai)le  beiichts  you  already  derive  from 
the  religion  of  tlie  blessed  Je.susl  Already  you 
possess  with  God,  as  does  Jesus  Christ,  a  unity 
of  ideas,  and  you  partake,  in  some  sense,  of  his 
infallibility,  by  subjecting  your  faith  to  his  di- 
vine oracles,  and  by  seeing,  if  I  may  use  tho 
expression,  by  seeing  with  his  eyes.  Already 
you  have  with  God,  as  Jesus  Christ  has,  a  unity 
of  will,  by  the  reception  of  his  laws,  and  by 
exerting  all  your  powers,  that  his  will  may  be 
done  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven.  Already 
you  enjoy  with  God,  as  does  Jesus  Christ,  a 
unity  of  dominion:  "all  things  are  yours;  whe- 
ther Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas,  or  the>vorld, 
or  life,  or  death,"  1  Cor.  iii.  21,  22.  "You 
arc  already  partakers  of  a  divine  nature,"  1 
Pet.  i.  4.  "  You  are  already  transformed  into 
the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as 
by  the  spirit  of  the  Lord,"  2  Cor.  iii.  18. 

lîut  how  is  this  union  still  marred  and  in- 
terrupted! How  imperfect  still  tliis  "participa- 
tion of  the  divine  nature"  and  this  "  trans- 
formation into  the  same  image!"  Let  this  be 
to  us,  my  brethren,  a  source  of  humiliation,  but 
not  of  dejection.  A  more  glorious  state  of 
things  is  to  succeed  the  present:  "  it  doth  not 
yet  appear  what  we  shall  be;  but  we  know  that 
when  he  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  him;  for 
we  shall  see  him  as  he  is,"  1  John  iii.  2.  A 
new  influx  of  light  with  which  the  soul  shall  be 
replenished,  a  new  influx  of  divine  love  with 
whicii  the  heart  shall  be  inflamed,  a  new  influx 
of  felicity  and  delight  with  which  the  immortal 
nature  shall  be  inundated,  are  going,  ere  long, 
to  place  in  its  brightest  point  of  view,  all  the 
sublimity,  all  the  excellency  of  our  condition. 
"  Father,  I  pray  not  for  my  disciples  alone,  but 
for  tliem  also  who  shall  believe  in  mo  through 
their  word:  that  they  all  may  be  one;  as  thou, 
Fatlicr,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee;  tliat  tliey  also 
may  be  one  in  us." 

IJut  how  is  it  possible  for  the  miserable  pos- 
terity of  Adam,  how  is  it  possible  for  wretched 
creatures  born  in  sin,  how  is  it  possible  for  frail 
mortals,  a  compound  of  dust  and  ashes,  "that 
dwell  in  houses  of  clay,  whose  foundation  is  in 
the  dust,  which  are  crushed  before  the  moth," 
Job  iv.  1 9,  how  is  it  possible  for  beings  so  mean, 
so  degraded,  to  become  "one"  with  God,  aa 
Jesus  Christ  is  "  one"  with  him.' 

Away,  Christians,  away  with  every  shade  of 
incredulity.  Nothing  is  too  great  for  this  pray- 
er to  procure.  Tln;ro  is  nothing  that  God  can 
deny  to  this  dying  Intercessor.  Let  tho  mind 
he  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity,  with  all  that  is 
vast  and  aflecting  in  the  sacrifice  which  Jesus 
Christ  was  about  to  present  to  his  Fatlicr. 
Consider  lliat  "God  is  love,"  1  John  iv.  16. 


Ser.  LXXII.] 


CHRIST'S  S/VCERDOTAL  PRAYER. 


163 


And  what  could  tlio  God  who  is  "  lovo"  refuse 
to  the  Kcdeeincr  of  the  world,  at  tlie  moincut 
when  he  was  going  to  devote  himself,  with  siicli 
ardour  of  affection,  for  the  salvation  of  man- 
kind? Behold  him  the  Redeemer  of  a  lost 
world,  behold  him  ready  to  afKx  the  seal  to  the 
great  work  which  God  had  committed  to  him: 
behold  him  prepared  to  bo  "  led  as  a  lamb  to 
the  slaughter,  and  as  a  sheep,  dumb  before  her 
shearers,"  Isa.  liii.  7;  behold  him  prepared  to 
undergo  that  punishment,  the  bare  idea  of 
which  makes  nature  shudder:  behold  him  pre- 
pared to  enter  into  "  the  deep  mire  where  there 
is  no  standing,"  of  which  the  prophets  speak, 
Ps.  Ixix.  2,  and  all  this  out  of  that  love,  and  all 
this  from  that  principle  of  charity  whicJi  glowed 
in  his  compassionate  breast. 

At  that  moment  of  love,  at  that  moment 
which  embraces  an  eternity — pardon  me  the 
expression,  my  friends,  and  condemn  nie  not, 
if  in  a  subject  which  has  nothing  human,  I  am 
constrained  to  employ  modes  of  speech  which 
are  not  in  common  use  among  men — at  that 
moment  which  embraces  a  whole  eternity, 
when  charity  was  carried  as  far  as  it  could  go, 
this  Redeemer  presents  himself  before  the  God 
of  love,  and  asks  of  him,  that  in  virtue  of  this 
sacrifice  of  love,  which  he  is  going  to  otier  up, 
all  the  faithful,  this  people,  yoti,  my  dearly  be- 
loved brethren,  you  might  be  crowned  with  the 
felicity  and  with  the  glory  with  which  he  him- 
self was  to  be  crowned;  but  to  which,  love  would 
have  rendered  him  insensible,  had  he  not  pro- 
mised himself  to  communicate  them,  one  day, 
to  men,  the  objects  of  his  tenderest  affection. 

O  mysteries  of  redemption,  how  far  you 
transcend  all  expression,  all  thought!  Ye  an- 
gels of  light,  who  live  in  the  bosom  of  glory, 
turn  aside  your  eyes  from  beholding  wonders 
which  dazzle  the  heaven  of  heavens:  bend  lowly 
over  the  mystical  ark,  and  search  it  to  the  bot- 
tom. And  you,  for  whom  all  these  wonders 
are  wrought,  children  of  fallen  Adam,  bow 
down  in  gratitude  and  adoration,  and  measure, 
if  you  can,  the  dimensions,  "  the  length,  the 
breadth,  the  height,  the  depth,  of  that  abyss 
which  passeth  knowledge,"  Eph.  iii.  18,  19. 

My  brethren,  there  is  an  air  of  credulity  and 
superstition  in  what  passes  between  a  dying 
person,  and  a  minister  who  is  endeavouring  to 
fortify  him  against  the  fears  of  death.  Tiie 
minister  hastl)e  appearance  of  an  impostor,  and 
the  dying  person  of  a  visionary.  We  promise 
to  a  man  extended  on  a  sick  bed,  to  a  man  who 
is  in  a  few  days  to  be  shut  up  in  a  tomb,  and 
to  become  a  prey  to  worms,  we  promise  him  an 
eternal  abode,  and  rivers  of  pleasures:  we  assure 
him  that  he  is  the  favourite  of  heaven,  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  is  going  to  become  the 
abhorrence  of  the  earth,  at  the  very  moment 
when  corruption  and  rottenness  are  hastening 
to  put  to  flight  from  his  person  his  most  affec- 
tionate friends.  These  pretensions  are,  how- 
ever, incontestable.  They  are  founded  on  the 
charitable  prayers  which  the  Redeemer  of  men 
addressed  to  the  God  of  love,  at  the  time  when 
he  himself  was  perfected  in  love:  "  I  have  glo- 
rified thee  on  the  earth:  I  have  finished  the 
work  which  thou  gavest  me  to  do,"  and  I  am 
going  to  seal  with  my  blood  that  awful  ministry 
which  thou  hast  committed  unto  me.  Grant 
to  my  obedience,  grout  to  the  prayers  aud  to 


the  blood  of  thy  expiring  Son,  that  which  is 
niost  capable  of  8up|)ortiiig  him  amidst  those 
fearful  objects  with  which  he  is  surrounded;  it 
is  the  salvation  of  that  world  of  believers,  who 
are  to  embrace  my  doctrine:  "  Father,  I  will 
that  where  I  am,  those  whom  thou  hast  given 
me  may  may  bo  there  also  with  me,  that  they 
may  behold  my  glory:  and  I  pray  not  for  them 
only,  but  also  for  those  who  shall  believe  in 
thee  through  their  word." 

These  prayers,  my  brethren,  are  still  pre- 
sented.    Jesus  Christ  is  still  doing  in  heaven, 
what,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  he  did  upon  earth: 
he  is  "  even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,"  where 
he  still  "  maketh   intercession  for  us,"  Rom. 
viii.  31.     He  is  still  "able  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost,  that  come  unto  God  by  him,  seeing 
he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them," 
ilcb.  vii.  25.     But  do  we  avail  ourselves  of 
these  prayers.'    But  are  we  seconding  this  inter- 
cession.'    Alas!  I  was  preparing  to  set  open  to 
you  all  the  treasures  of  consolation  which  we 
see  issuing  from  a  dying  Saviour's  prayers. 
But  I  find,  in  that  prayer,  one  word  which  stops 
me  short;  one  word  which  terrifies  me;  one 
word  which  suggests  an  inquiry  that  awakens 
a  tliousand  solicitudes:  are  we  in  the  class  of 
those  for  whom  Jesus  Christ  prayed  to  the  Fa- 
ther; or  are  we  of  those  for  whom,  he  tells  us, 
he  prayed  not'     Does  it  contain  the  sentence 
of  our  absolution;  or  that  of  our  eternal  con- 
demnation?    You  have  heard  this  word;  but 
have  you  seriously  weighed  its  import'     Have 
you  listened  to  it  witii  that  composure,  and 
with  that  application  which  it  demands?     The 
word  is  tliis:  "  I  pray  not  for  the  world;  I  pray 
for  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me,"  ver.  9. 
My  disciples  for  whom  I  pray  to  the#,  "  are  not 
of  the  world,  even  as  ]  am  not  of  the  world," 
ver.  14. 

We  frame  for  ourselves  a  morality  that  suits 
our  own  fancy.  We  look  upon  a  worldly  spirit 
as  a  matter  of  trivial  importance,  which  it  is 
scarcely  wortli  while  to  tliink  of  correcting.  A 
preacher  who  should  take  upon  him  to  condemn 
this  disposition  of  mind,  would  pass  for  a  mere 
declaimer,  who  abused  the  liberty  given  him, 
of  talking  alone  from  the  pulpit.  A  worldly 
life,  wasted  in  dissipation,  in  pleasure,  at  play, 
at  public  spectacles,  has  nothing  terrifying  in 
our  eyes.  But  be  pleased  to  learn  from  Jesus 
Ciirist  whether  or  not  a  worldly  spirit  be  a  tri- 
vial matter.  But  learn  of  Jesus  Christ  what 
are  the  fatal  effects  of  a  worldly  mind.  It  is  an 
exclusion  from  the  glorious  catalogue  of  those 
for  whom  Jesus  Christ  intercedes.  It  destroys 
the  right  of  pretending  to  those  blessings  which 
the  Saviour  requests  in  behalf  of  his  church: 
"  I  pray  not  for  the  world;  I  pray  for  them 
whom  thou  hast  given  me."  IVly  disciples,  for 
whom  I  pray  to  thee,  "  are  not  of  the  world, 
even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world." 

Would  you  wish  to  know  whether  Jesus 
Christ  is  an  intercessor  for  yoa'  Would  you 
wish  to  know  whether  you  are  of  the  number 
of  them  who  shall,  one  day,  be  where  Jesus 
Christ  ia'  See  whether  you  can  distinguish 
yourself  by  this  character,  "  they  are  not  of  the 
world,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world."  And 
what  is  it  not  to  be  of  the  world? 

Not  to  be  of  the  world,  is  not  to  live  in  de- 
serts and  in  sohtudes:  it  is  not  for  a  man  to  bury 


164 


CHRIST'S  SACERDOTAL  I'KAYER. 


[Ser.  Lxxn. 


himself  before  he  is  dead,  and  to  pass  his  hfo  as 
it  were  in  a  tomb.  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apos- 
tles lived  in  society;  but  they  sanctitied  society 
by  useful  instruction  and  by  a  holy  example; 
but  they  were  the  light  of  the  world,  and  if  they 
mingled  "  in  the  uiidst  of  a  crooked  and  per- 
verse nation,"  they  were  "  blameless  and  harm- 
less, and  without  rebuke;"  and  shone  among 
tliem. 

iS'ot  to  be  of  the  world,  is  not  to  abandon  the 
reins  of  government  to  ruHians.  Jesus  Christ 
and  his  apostles  permitted  Christians  to  occupy 
the  most  distinguished  stations  in  society;  but 
it  was  their  wish  and  endeavour,  tliat  wliile  they 
filled  such  stations,  they  should  guard  agaiast 
the  illusions  of  tiieir  own  lustre:  that  they 
should  not  imagine  tliemselves  exalted  to  ter- 
restrial greatness  merely  to  display  their  own 
vain  self-importance,  but  that  they  should  ever 
keep  in  view  the  necessities  of  those  whose  hap- 
piness is  intrusted  to  their  care. 

Not  to  be  of  the  world,  is  not  to  break  off  all 
relation  with  the  world,  to  be  always  absorbed 
in  meditation,  in  contemplation,  in  ecstacies. 
No,  religion  is  adapted  to  the  various  relations 
of  human  life;  to  fathers,  to  children,  to  mas- 
ters, to  servants. 

But  not  to  be  of  the  world,  is  never  to  lose 
sight,  even  in  the  distraction  of  worldly  con- 
cerns, of  the  end  which  God  proposed  to  him- 
self, when  he  placed  us  in  the  world:  it  is  con- 
stantly to  recollect  that  we  have  a  soul  to  be 
saved;  an  account  to  render;  a  hell  to  shun;  a 
heaven  to  gain:  it  is  habitually  to  direct,  towards 
these  great  objects,  the  edge  of  our  spirit,  the 
vivacity  of  our  passions,  the  ardour  of  our  de- 
sires: it  is  to  be  able  to  say,  at  the  close  of  life, 
with  Jesus  Christ,  as  far  as  the  infinite  distance 
between  the  sanctity  of  this  divine  Saviour  and 
ours  can  permit:  "  Father,  1  have  glorified  thee 
on  the  earth,  I  have  finished  the  work  which 
thou  gavest  mc  to  do.  I  have  fought  the  good 
fight;  I  have  kept  the  faith,"  2  Tim.  iv.  1.  Wo 
be  to  the  man  who,  at  that  fatal  i)eriod,  shall 
be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  holding  an  op- 

Îosite  language,  and  of  saying,  "  Scarcely  have 
,  as  yet,  put  my  hand  to  the  works  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do.  Scarcely  have  1  employed  an 
instant  of  my  time  in  meditating  on  eternity." 
Wo  be  to  the  man  who  shall  then  have  cause 
to  say:  and  ah!  how  many  such  are  there,  under 
the  name  of  Christians!  I  have  employed  part 
of  my  life  in  cultivating  my  estate,  in  swelling 
my  revenue,  in  "pulling  down  my  barns  and 
building  greater,"  Luke  xii.  18.  I  have  de- 
voted another  part  to  the  delights  of  a  present 
life,  to  refinement  in  ])leasure.  A  third  has 
been  employed  in  gratifying  tlie  most  criminal 
appetites,  in  vomiting  out  blasphemy  against 
my  Benefactor,  in  waging  war  with  religion, 
morals,  and  common  decency,  in  scandalizing 
the  church  of  CJod  by  my  impurities  and  excess. 
Let  us  not  be  ingenious  in  practising  illusion 
upon  ourselves.  Let  us  not  amuse  ourselves 
with  unprofitable  speculations  respecting  the 
meaning  of  these  words,  "  1  pray  not  for  the 
world."  What  bold  and  rash  researches  have 
the  schools  pursued  on  the  subject  of  this  saying 
of  Christ'  What  cliiinerical  consecjuences  have 
not  been  deduced  from  it'  But  from  these  I 
must  still  revert  to  this  grand  principle:  Are 
you  of  the  world,  or  are  you  not  of  the  world? 


"  Say  not  in  thine  heart.  Who  shall  ascend  into 
heavea'  or.  Who  shall  descend  into  the  deep? 
the  word  is  nigh  thee,  even  in  thy  mouth,  and 
in  thy  heart,"  Rom.  x.  6 — 8.  "  The  friendship 
of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God,"  James  iv.  -1. 
If  you  are  of  the  world,  you  arc  not  of  the  num- 
ber ot"  those  for  whom  Jesus  Christ  pleads.  If 
you  are  not  of  the  world,  you  are  within  the 
decree  of  his  election:  he  has  interceded  for  you, 
and  you  are  warranted  to  expect  all  the  fruits 
of  his  intercession. 

These  reflections  will  probably  excite,  in 
some,  many  a  painful  apprehension,  amounting 
to  a  conviction  that  you  are  in  the  dreadful  class 
of  those  for  whom  Christ  intercedes  not.  But 
if  it  be  high  time  to  renounce  this  world,  by 
acts  of  penitence,  of  mortification,  of  a  sincere 
return  unto  God,  let  us  proportion  these  acts 
to  the  degree  of  criminality  v^hich  renders  them 
necessary.  The  love  of  the  world  has  inspired 
a  taste  for  voluptuousness:  let  us  deny  ourselves 
by  a  course  of  abstinence,  during  the  passion 
weeks,  even  from  what  is  necessary  to  nature. 
The  love  of  the  world  has  transported  us  into 
excesses  of  worldly  joy:  let  us  clothe  ourselves 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  during  the  passion 
weeks,  or  rather  let  us  present  unto  God  the 
"  sacrifice  of  a  broken  and  contrite  heart,"  Ps. 
li.  19.  Let  u?  make  extraordinary  efforts  to 
disarm  his  wrath,  ever  enkindled  against  the 
abominations  of  the  Christian  world.  Let  us 
say  to  him  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times, 
as  we  turn  our  eyes  towards  the  cross  of  Jesus 
Christ:  "  O  Lord,  righteousness  belongeth  unto 
tlieu,  but  unto  us  confusion  of  faces:"  Dan.  ix. 
"7.  Let  us  entreat  him  by  those  bowels  of  love 
which  prompted  him  to  restore  a  fallen  world, 
that  he  would  disunite  us  from  the  creature, 
and  unite  us  to  himself 

if  we  act  in  this  manner,  we  have  every  thing 
to  expect  from  a  God  whose  great  leading  cha- 
racter is  love.  He  will  take  pity  on  this 
wretched  people.  He  will  have  comp;ission  on 
these  miserable  provinces,  in  which  it  seems  as 
if  every  individual  had  undertaken  the  task  of 
shutting  his  own  eyes,  in  order  to  precipitate 
himself,  with  the  greater  indifference,  into  the 
abyss  which  is  gaping  to  swallow  us  up:  he  will 
repress  those  sea-piracies  which  have  reduced 
so  many  families,  and  impaired  the  general 
commerce:  he  will  remove  those  dreadful 
plagues  which  have  ruined  so  many  respectable 
conmmnities  as  well  as  individuals:  he  will  stop 
those  fearful  inundations  which  have  already 
committed  such  devastation  in  the  midst  of  us, 
and  which  still  occiusion  so  many  well-groimded 
alarms:  he  will  reconcile  the  hearts  of  the  po- 
tentates of  Europe,  and  engage  them  to  use 
their  united  eflbrts  to  promote  the  happiness  and 
the  glory  of  the  Christian  world. 

Much  more,  if  we  are  not  of  the  world,  wo 
shall  partake  of  delights  which  the  world  knows 
not  of,  and  which  it  cannot  take  from  us,  as  it 
cannot  bestow.  If  we  are  not  of  the  world,  wo 
shall  have  cause  of  self-gratulation,  with  our 
divine  Master,  that  we  are  not  like  tlioso  des- 
perate madmen  who  seem  resolutely  bent  on 
mutual  and  self-destruction;  and  in  these  senti- 
ments shall  thus  address  ourselves  to  God:  "O 
righteous  Father,  the  world  hath  not  known 
thee:  but  I  have  known  thee,"  ver.  25.  If  we 
aro  not  of  tlie  world,  wo  sliall  be  animated  with 


Ser.  LXXIII.] 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


165 


a  holy  intrepidity,  wlmn  death  takes  tis  out  of 
the  world,  nay,  when  the  world  and  its  founda-* 
tions  crumlilc  into  dust  bcneatli  our  feet. 

We  shall  be  fdled  with  joy  unspeakable  wlien 
we  reflect,  that  we  are  leaving  a  world  of  which 
we  were  not,  to  jjo  to  that  of  which  wu  are 
citizens.  We  shall  say,  amidst  tlic  tears  and 
lamentations  of  a  last  adieu:  "  It  is  true,  my 
dear  children,  it  is  true  my  dear  friends,  I  leave 
you  upon  the  earth:  hut  my  Jesus  is  in  heaven, 
and  I  go  to  be  wliere  he  is:  "  having  a  desire  to 
depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  bet- 
ter," Phil.  i.  23;  it  is  true,  I  tear  myself  from 
you,  and  it  is  like  tearing  me  from  m)'self;  but 
this  mouniful,  is  not  an  overlasiting  separation. 
Jesus  Christ  has  prayed  cqualiy  for  you  and  for 
me.  He  has  asked  for  me  and  for  you,  tiiat 
we  should  all  be  "  where  he  is,  that  wo  may  all 
be  one  in  him  and  with  the  Father:"  and  1  only 
go  before  you  a  few  instants  into  this  state  of 
blessedness. 

Ah!  God  grant,  that  after  having  preached 
the  gospel  to  you,  we  may  be  enabled  to  say, 
with  Jesus  Christ,  at  our  dying  hour;  "  Father, 
those  that  thou  gavest  me  1  have  kept,  and 
none  of  them  is  lost!"  ver.  12.  God  grant  tliat 
there  may  be  no  "  son  of  perdition"  in  this  as- 
sembly! May  God  vouchsafe  to  hearken  to  the 
praj^r  which  we  present  in  your  behalf,  in  tiiis 
place,  and  which  we  shall  present  to  him  on  a 
dying  bed:  or  rather  may  God  vouchsafe  to  hear 
the  prayer  which  Jesus  Ciirist  presents  for  us: 
"  Father,  I  will  that  they  wliom  thou  hast  given 
me,  be  with  me  where  1  am;  that  they  may  be- 
hold my  glory!"  Amen.  To  the  Fatlier,  to 
the  Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  honour  and 
glory  for  ever.     Amen. 

SERMON  LXXIII. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 

PART  I. 


Matthew  xxvii.  45 — 53. 
■Now  from   the  sixth  hour  there  was  darkness 
over  all  the  land  unto  the  ninth  hour.     .Ind 
about  the  ninth  hour  Jesus  ci'ied  with  a  loud 
voice,  saying,  Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachthani?  that 
is  to  say.  My  God,  my  God,  lohy  hast  thou 
forsaken  me?     Some  of  them  that  stood  there, 
when  they  heard  that,  said.  This  man  callelh 
for  Elias,     ^flnd  straightway  one  of  them  ran, 
and  took  a  sponge,  and  filled  it  icith  vinegar, 
and  put  it  on  a  reed,  and  gave  him  to  drink. 
The  rest  said,  Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias 
will  come  to  save  him.     Jesus,  tchen  he  had 
cried  again  with  a  loud  voice,  yielded  up  the 
ghost.     »ÎH(/,   behold,   the  veil  of  the    temple 
was  rent  in  twain  from  the  top  to  the  bottom: 
and  the  earth  did  quake;  and  the  rocks  rent; 
and  the  gi-aves  irere  opened;  and  many  bodits 
of  saints  which  slept,  arose,  and  ca)ne  out  of 
the  graves  after  his  resurrection,  and  went  into 
the  holy  city,  and  appeared  uiito  many. 
We  are  going  to  set  before  you  this  day, 
my  Christian  friends,  the  concluding  scene  of 
the  most  dreadful  spectacle  that  ever  the  sun 
beheld.     On  beholding  the  order,  the   prepa- 
rations, and  the  approacliing  completion  of  the 


sacrifice  of  Isaac,  the  soul  is  thrown  into  as- 
tonishment. A  father  binding  his  own  son 
with  cords,  extending  him  upon  a  funeral  pile, 
raising  up  an  armed  right  hand  to  pierce  his 
bosom;  and  all  tiiis  by  the  command  of  Hea- 
ven! What  a  prodigy!  At  such  a  sight  reason 
murmurs,  faith  is  staggered,  and  Providence 
seems  to  labour  under  an  indelible  imputation. 
But  a  seasonable  and  happy  interposition  dis- 
sipates all  this  darkness.  An  angel  descends 
from  heaven,  a  voice  pierces  the  yielding  air: 
"  Abraham,  Abraham,  lay  not  thy  hand  upon 
the  lad:  for  now  I  know  that  tiiou  fearest  God, 
seeing  thou  ha.st  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine 
only  son  from  me,"  Gen.  xxii.  12.  And  this 
revolution  silences  the  murmurings  of  reason, 
re-establishes  our  faith,  and  vindicates  the  ways 
of  Providence. 

A  griiater  than  Isaac,  my  brethren,  a  greater 
than  Abraham  is  here.  This  sacritice  must  be 
completed;  this  victim  mast  die;  this  burnt- 
offering  must  be  reduced  to  ashes.  In  the 
preceding  chapter  you  have  seen  the  command 
given,  the  scaflbld  erected,  the  arm  extended 
to  smite  the  devoted  Jesus.  You  are  going  to 
behold  him  expire;  no  victim  substituted  in 
his  room;  no  revocation  of  the  decree;  and  in- 
stead of  inquiring  like  Isaac,  "  Behold  the  fire 
and  the  wood;  but  where  is  the  lamb  for  a 
burnt-ortering?"  ver.  7,  he  savs,  "  Lo,  I  come; 
....  to  do  thy  will,  O  my  God,"  Ps.  xl.  7, 
8.  Jesus  expires:  the  dead  leave  their  tombs: 
the  sun  withdraws  his  light:  nature  is  convuls- 
ed at  tiie  sight  of  her  Creator  dying  upon  a 
cross.  And  the  Son  of  God's  love,  before  he 
utters  his  last  sigli,  gives  a  free  course  to  his 
complaints,  and  makes  an  astonished  world 
re-echo  those  mournful  sounds:  "  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  mer"  ver.  46. 

And  you.  Christians,  what  are  you  to  be- 
come at  beholding  this  spectacle;  and  what 
effects  arc  these  objects  to  produce,  that  shall 
be  in  any  proportion  to  their  magnitude?  With 
whatever  success  our  happiest  addresses  to  you 
may  be  crowned,  your  actions  must  ever  fall 
far  short  of  your  obligations  and  engagements. 
It  is  possible,  however,  that  on  certain  points, 
we  may  have  commendation  only  to  bestow. 
When  restitution  is  the  theme,  some  one  per- 
haps conscience-struck,  some  Zaccheus  is  in- 
duced to  restore  four  fold.  When  tiie  doctrine 
of  forgiveness  and  reconciliation  is  preached, 
some  one,  smitten  to  tlie  heart,  is,  it  may  be, 
disposed  to  open  his  arms  to  an  estranged  bro- 
ther. But  what  fruit  can  this  discourse  pro- 
duce, capable  of,  I  do  not  say,  fulfilling  your 
obligations,  but  that  shall  bear  any  manner  of 
proportion  to  them?  Were  your  heart-^,  hence- 
forward, to  burn  with  the  purest  and  most  ar- 
dent affection;  were  your  eyes  to  become  a 
living  fountain  of  tears:  were  every  particle  of 
yourframo  to  serve  as  a  several  victim  to  peni- 
tence; were  this  vaulted  roof  to  cleave  asunder; 
were  the  dead,  deposited  in  these  tombs,  to 
start  up  into  life:  what  would  there  be  in  all 
this  that  is  not  absorbed  by  the  objects  which 
we  are  going  to  display? 

Come  and  clothe  yourselves  in  mourning 
with  the  rest  of  nature.  Come,  with  the  cen- 
turion, and  recognise  your  Redeemer  and  your 
God;  and  let  the  sentiments  which  severally 
occupy  all  these  hearts  and  minds  unite  in  this 


166 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


[Ser.  Lxxm. 


one:  "  I  am  crucified  with  Clirist;  nevertheless 
I  live,  yet  not  1,  but  Christ  iiveth  in  me;  and 
the  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  Hesh,  I  live  by 
the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  wlio  loved  me, 
£Uid  gave  himself  for  me,"  Gal.  ii.  i-'O.    Amen. 

That  you  may  derive  from  the  words  which 
wo  have  read,  the  fruit  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
presents  to  us  in  thuin,  we  shall,  1.  Attempt 
some  elucidation  of  the  letter  of  tlie  text:  and 
then,  2.  Endeavour  to  penetrate  into  the  spirit 
of  it,  and  dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  mysteries 
which  it  contains. 

I.  We  be<Tin  with  attempting  some  elucida- 
tion of  the  letter  of  the  text. 

1.  Our  first  remark  turns  on  the  time  which 
the  evangelist  assigns  to  tlie  first  events  which 
ho  is  hero  relating:  "  from  the  sixth  hour," 
says  he,  "  there  was  darkness  unto  the  ninth 
hour:  and  about  the  ninth  hour  Jesus  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,"  and  so  on.  Respecting 
which,  it  is  to  be  observed,  th.at  the  .Jews  com- 
puted the  hours  of  the  day  from  sun-rising. 
The  first  from  sun-rising  was  called  one  hour, 
the  second  two,  and  so  of  the  rest:  "  from  the 
sixth  hour  to  the  ninth  hour;"  in  other  words, 
from  noon  till  three  of  the  clock  afternoon. 

But  what  merits  a  more  particular  attention 
is  this,  that  the  evangelists  appear  here  to  vary 
in  their  testimony;  at  least  St.  Mark  tells  us, 
chap.  XV.  25,  that  part  of  the  events  which  the 
other  evangelists  say  took  place  about  the  ninth 
hour,  happened  at  the  third  hour.  A  single 
remark  will  resolve  this  difficulty.  The  Jews 
employed  another  method  in  computing  time, 
besides  that  which  we  have  indicated.  They 
divided  tlic  day  into  four  intervals.  The  first 
comprehended  the  space  from  the  first  to  the 
third  hour  of  the  d;iy  inclusively:  the  second 
from  the  end  of  the  tliird  hour  of  the  day  to 
the  si.xth:  and  so  of  the  rest.  This  mode  of 
com])utation,  if  certain  doctors  are  to  be  cre- 
dited, took  its  rise  from  the  custom  which  was 
observed  in  tlic  temple,  of  iire.senting  prayers 
and  sacrifices  at  the  third,  the  .sixth,  and  the 
ninth  hour.  Now  the  Jews  sometimes  deno- 
minated the  whole  of  this  first  interval,  which 
contained  three  hours  of  the  day,  one  hour,  or 
the  first  hour.  The  second  interval  they  de- 
nominated two,  or  the  second  hour,  which  con- 
tained the  second  three  hours,  and  so  of  the 
rest.  This  remark  solves  the  apparent  diffi- 
culty which  we  ])ointed  out.  Some  of  the 
evangelists  have  followed  the  first  mode  of 
computation,  and  others  have  adopted  the  se- 
cond. The  ninth  hour  in  the  style  of  St.  Mat- 
thew, and  the  third  hour  in  the  style  of  St. 
Mark,  denote  one  and  the  same  season  of  the 
day;  because  the  one  computes  tlie  hours  elaps- 
ed from  sun-rising,  and  the  other  that  third  in- 
terval of  three  hours  which  commenced  pre- 
cisely at  the  nintii  hour. 

2.  Our  second  remark  will  lead  us  into  an 
oxaminntion  of  certain  questions  started,  rela- 
tive to  the  prodigies  recorded  by  our  evange- 
lists.    It  is  said, 

1.  That  "there  was  darkness  over  all  the 
land."  It  appears  from  astronomical  calcula- 
tion, and  from  the  very  nature  of  solar  eclips- 
es, which  are  occasioned  by  the  interposition 
of  the  body  of  the  moon  between  ils  and  the 
orI>  of  day,  which  can  Uike  place  only  at  the 
chajigc,  whereas  it  was  tlieu  at  tlic  full,  being 


the  fourteenth  day  of  the  month  of  March;  it 
■  appears,  1  say,  from  these  considerations,  that 
this  darkness  was  not  an  eclipse  properly  so 
caHed,  but  an  obscuration  effected  by  a  special 
interference  of  Providence,  which  wo  are  un- 
able clearly  to  explain. 

If  we  are  incapable  of  assigning  the  cause, 
we  are  equally  incapal)le  of  determining  the 
extent  of  this  wonderfiil  appearance.  The  ex- 
pression in  the  original,  "  there  was  darkness 
over  all  the  land,"  or,  according  to  St.  Luke's 
phraseology,  "  over  all  the  earth,"  chap,  xxiii. 
44,  which  presents  at  first  to  the  mind  an  idea 
of  the  whole  globe,  is  frequently  restricted  in 
Scri])ture,  sometimes  to  the  land  of  Judea, 
sometimes  to  the  whole  Roman  empire;  and 
this  ambiguity,  joined  to  the  silence  of  the  sa- 
cred historians,  renders  it  impossible  for  us  to 
decide  whether  the  darkness  overspread  the 
land  of  Judea  only,  or  involved  all  tlie  rest  of 
our  hemisphere. 

Neither  do  we  deem  it  of  importance  to 
dwell  on  an  examination  of  the  monuments 
supposed  to  be  found  in  antiquity  respecting 
the  truth  of  the  prodigy  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking.  Among  those  which  are  transmit- 
ted to  us  on  this  subject,  there  is  one  which 
bears  visible  marks  of  forgery.  I  speak  of  the 
testimony  of  Dionysius,  falsely  denominated 
the  Areopagite,  who  affirms  that  he  himself 
saw,  in  Egypt,  the  darkness  mentioned  by  the 
evangelists,  which  drew  from  him  this  excla- 
mation: "  Assuredly  either  the  God  of  nature 
is  suffering,  or  the  frame  of  the  universe  is 
going  to  be  destroyed."*  The  learned  have  so 
clearly  demonstrated  that  the  author  of  this 
book  is  an  impostor,  who,  though  ho  did  not 
live  till  the  fourth  century,  would  neverthe- 
less pass  for  the  Dionysius  who  was  converted 
to  Christianity,  by  the  preaching  of  St.  Paul 
on  J\Iars-hill,  Acts  xvii.  34,  that  this  author, 
transfixed  with  a  thousand  wounds,  is  fallen, 
never  to  rise  again. 

Much  more  dependence  is,  undoubtedly,  to 
be  placed  on  what  is  said  by  Phlegon,  sumam- 
ed  the  Trallian,  the  emperor  Adrian's  freed- 
man.  lie  had  composed  a  history  of  the  Olym- 
piads, some  fragments  only  of  which  have 
reached  us:  but  Eusebius  the  historian  has 
preserved  the  following  passage  from  it:]  "  In 
the  fourth  year  of  the  two  hundred  and  second 
Olympiad,  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the  sun, 
much  greater  than  any  one  which  had  ever 
before  been  observed.  The  night  was  so  dark 
at  noon-day  that  the  stars  were  perceptible, 
and  there  were  such  violent  earthquakes  in 
Bithynia,  that  the  greatest  part  of  the  city  of 
Nicea  was  swallowed  up  by  it."  These  are  the 
words  of  Eusebius:  but  tlie  inquiries  to  which 
they  might  lead  could  not  be  prosecuted  in  an 
exercise  like  the  present,  and  they  would  en- 
croach on  that  time  which  wo  destine  to  sub- 
jects of  much  higher  importance. 

2.  The  evangelists  tell  us  in  the  second 
place,  that  "  the  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in 
twain,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom."  There 
wore  two  veils  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem; 
that  which  was  suspended  over  the  door  that 

*  Diony-".  Areorajj.  lorn.  ii.  p.  91.  and  Anoot.  Oorder. 
p.  3.?.  and  102.     Edit.  Antwerp,  1634. 

f  EusrI).  Tampb.  TheMurui  Temporum,  p.  158.  Edit. 
Amsl.  1U59. 


Ser.  LXXIII.] 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


1G7 


separated  the  holy  place  from  the  exterior  of 
tlic  temple,  which  .losciihus  calls  "  a  Babyloni- 
an hanging,"  embroidered  curiously  witli  gold, 
purple,  scarlet,  and  fine  flax.*  There  was  also 
a  veil  over  the  door  which  separated  the  holy 
place  from  the  Holy  of  Holies.  The  expres- 
sion in  the  text  the  veil,  described  in  Exod. 
xxvi.  31,  and  denoted  the  veil  by  way  of  ex- 
cellence, makes  it  presumable  that  the  second 
is  here  meant. 

3.  The  evangelist  relates  that  "the  graves 
were  opened;  and  many  bodies  of  saints  which 
slept,  arose,  and  went  into  the  holy  city,  and 
aj)peared  unto  many."  This  has  induced  in- 
terpreters to  institute  an  inquiry,  who  those 
dead  persons  were?  It  is  pretended  by  some 
that  they  were  the  ancient  prophets;  others, 
with  a  greater  air  of  probability,  maintain  that 
they  were  persons  lately  deceased,  and  well 
known  to  those  to  whom  they  appeared.  But 
how  is  it  possible  to  form  a  fixed  opinion,  when 
we  are  left,  so  entirely  in  the  dark? 

4.  Our  last  remark  relates  to  the  interpreta- 
tion afHrmed  to  the  Syriac  words  which  Jesus 
Christ  pronounced;  "  Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachtha- 
ni,"  and  which  St.  Mark  gives  in  the  Chaldaic 
form.  The  evangelist  tells  us,  that  some  of 
those  who  heard  Jesus  Christ  thus  express  him- 
self, said  that  "  he  called  for  Elias."  The 
persons  who  entertained  this  idea,  could  not  be 
the  Roman' soldiers,  who  assisted  at  the  execu- 
tion. By  what  means  should  they  have  known 
any  thing  of  Elias?  They  were  not  the  Jews 
who  inhabited  Jerusalem  and  Judea;  how  could 
they  have  been  acquainted  with  their  native 
language?  They  must  have  been,  on  the  one 
hand,  Jews  instructed  in  the  traditions  of  their 
nation,  and  who,  on  the  other,  did  not  under- 
stand the  language  spoken  at  Jerusalem.  Now 
this  description  applies  exactly  to  those  of  the 
Jews  who  were  denominated  Hellenists,  that  is 
to  say,  Greeks:  they  were  of  Jewish  extraction, 


and  had  scattered  themselves  over  the  different 
regions  of  Greece. 

But  whence,  it  will  be  said,  did  they  derive 
the  strange  idea,  that  Jesus  Christ  called  for 
Elias?  I  answer,  that  it  was  not  only  from  the 
resemblance  in  sound  between  the  words  Eli 
and  Elias,  but  from  another  tradition  of  the 
Jews.  It  was  founded  on  those  words  of  the 
I)rophet   Malachi:   "behold,  I  will   send   you 

Elijah  the  prophet and  he  shall  turn 

the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  and  the 
heart  of  the  children  to  their  fathers,"  chap.  iv. 
6;  an  oracle  which  presents  no  difficulty  to  the 
Christian,  whom  Jesus  Christ  has  instructed  to 
consider  it  as  accomplished  in  the  person  of 
John  Baptist.  But  the  Jews  understood  it  in 
the  literal  sense:  they  believed  that  Elias  was 
still  upon  mount  Carmel,  and  was  one  day  to 
reappear.  The  coming  of  this  prophet  is  still, 
next  to  the  appearance  of  the  Messiah,  the 
object  of  their  fondest  hope.f  It  is  Elias,  as 
they  will  have  it,  who  "  shall  turn  the  heart 
of  the  fathers  unto  the  children:  and  the  heart 
of  the  children  unto  their  fathers."  It  is  Elias, 
who  shall  prepare  the  way  of  the  Messiah, 
who  sliall  be  his  forerunner,  and  who  shall 
anoint  him  with  the  holy  oil.     It  is  Elias,  who 

*  Exod.  ixvi.  36.  Joseph.  Wars  of  the  Jews,  Book  vi. 
chap.  14. 
t  See  Kiinchi  and  Xhaa  Jùcra  on  Mai.  iv.  5. 


shall  answer  all  their  inquiries,  and  resolve  all 
their  difllculties.  It  is  Elias,  who  by  his  pray- 
ers, shall  obtain  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 
It  is  Elias,  who  shall  do  for  the  Jews  of  the 
di.si)ersion,  what  Aloses  did  for  the  Israelites 
enslaved  in  Egypt:  he  shall  march  at  their 
head,  and  conduct  them  into  Canaan.  These 
are  all  expressions  of  the  Rabbins,  whose  names 
I  siip|)ress,  as  also  the  lists  of  the  works  from 
which  we  extract  the  passages  just  now  quoted. 
Here  we  conclude  our  pro])osed  commentary 
on  the  words,  and  now  proceed: 

II.  To  direct  your  attention  to  the  great  ob- 
ject exhibited  in  the  text,  Jesus  Christ  exjiiring 
on  the  cross.  We  shall  derive  from  the  words 
read,  six  ideas  of  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ. 
I.  The  death  of  Christ  is  an  expiatory  sacri- 
fice, in  which  the  victim  was  charged  with  the 
sins  of  a  whole  world.  2.  It  is  the  body  of  all 
the  shadows,  the  truth  of  all  the  types,  the  ac- 
complishment of  all  the  predictions  of  the  an- 
cient dispensation,  respecting  the  Messiah.  3. 
It  is,  on  the  part  of  the  Jewish  nation,  a  crime, 
which  the  blackest  colours  are  incapable  of  de- 
picting, which  has  kindled  the  wrath  of  Hea- 
ven, and  armed  universal  nature  against  them. 
4.  It  presents  a  system  of  morality  in  which 
every  virtue  is  retraced,  and  every  motive  that 
can  animate  us  to  the  practice  of  it,  is  display- 
ed. 5.  It  presents  a  mystery  which  reason 
cannot  unfold,  but  whose  truth  and  importance 
all  the  difllculties  which  reason  may  urge  are 
unable  to  impair.  6.  Finally,  it  is  the  triumph 
of  the  Redeemer  over  the  tomb. 

1 .  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  an  expiatory 
sacrifice,  offered  up  to  divine  justice.  "  Eli, 
Eli,  lama  sabachthani:  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  This  is  the  only  proof 
which  we  shall  at  present  produce  in  support 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement.  It  is,  un- 
doubtedly, difficult,  to  determine  with  preci- 
sion, what  were,  at  that  moment,  the  disposi- 


tions of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  In  general, 
we  must  carefully  separate  from  them  every 
idea  of  distrust,  of  murmuring,  of  despair. 
We  must  carefully  separate  every  thing  injuri- 
ous to  the  immaculate  purity  from  which  Jesus 
Christ  never  deviated,  and  to  that  complete 
submission,  wJiich  he  constantly  expressed,  to 
the  will  of  his  heavenly  Father.  We  have 
here  a  victim,  not  dragged  reluctantly  to  the 
altar,  but  voluntarily  advancing  to  it;  and  the 
same  love  which  carried  him  thither,  supported 
him  during  the  whole  sacrifice.  These  com- 
plainings, therefore,  of  Jesus  Clu-ist,  afford  us 
convincing  reasons  to  conclude,  tliat  his  death 
was  of  a  nature  altogether  extraordinary. 

Of  this  you  will  become  perfectly  sensible, 
if  you  attend  to  the  two  following  reflections; 
(1.)  That  no  one  ever  appeared  so  deeply  over- 
whelmed, at  the  thought  of  death,  as  Jesus 
Christ:  (2.)  That  no  person  ought  to  have  met 
death  witli  so  much  constancy  as  he,  if  he  un- 
derwent a  mere  ordinary  death. 

(  1 .  )  No  one  ever  appeared  so  deeply  over- 
whelmed, at  the  thought  of  death,  as  Jesus 
Christ.  Recollect  in  what  strong  terms  the 
sacred  authors  represent  the  awful  conflict 
which  he  endured  in  the  garden  of  Gethse- 
mane.  They  tell  us  of  his  mortal  sorrow:  "  my 
iîoul  is  exceeding  sorrowful  even  unto  deatli," 
Matt.   xxvi.   38.     They  speak  of  liis  agony: 


168 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


[Sea.  L^nL 


"being  in  an  agony,"  says  St.  Luke,  xxii.  44. 
Thoy  spoak  of  Ills  fears:  he  was  lieard  in  that 
he  feared:  they  speak  of  his  cries  and  tears: 
"  he  ortered  up  prayers  and  suiiplicalions,  with 
strong  crying  and  tears,"  Heb.  v.  7.  They 
speak  of  the  prodigious  cfTect  wliich  the  fear 
of  death  produced  upon  liis  body:  "  his  sweat 
was  as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  faUing 
down  to  the  ground."  Tiiey  even  spake  of  the 
desire  which  he  felt  to  draw  back:  "  O  my  Fa- 
ther, if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  [)as3  from 
mo,"  Matt.  xxvi.  39.  And  in  our  text,  they 
represent  him  as  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb  of 
resolution:  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me?"  Is  it  possible  to  be  more  depress- 
ed at  the  thoughts  of  deatlt' 

(2.)  But  we  said,  secondly,  That  no  person 
ought  to  have  met  death  with  so  much  con- 
stancy as  Jesus  Christ,  if  he  underwent  a  mere 
ordinary  death.     For, 

1.  Jesus  Christ  died  with  perfect  submission 
to  the  will  of  his  heavenly  Father,  and  witli 
the  most  fervent  love  towards  the  human  race. 
Now,  when  a  man  serves  a  master  whom  he 
honours,  when  he  suffers  for  the  sake  of  per- 
sons whom  he  loves,  he  sufters  with  patience 
and  composure. 

2.  Jesus  Christ  died  with  the  most  complete 
assurance  of  the  justice  of  his  cause,  and  of 
the  innocence  of  his  life.  When,  at  the  hour 
of  death,  conscience  is  roused  as  an  armed 
man;  when  the  recollection  of  a  thousand 
crimes  awakes,  when  a  life  of  unrepented  guilt 
stares  the  dying  sinner  in  the  face,  the  most 
obdurate  heart  is  then  stretched  on  the  rack. 
But  when,  at  a  dying  hour,  the  eye  can  look 
back  to  a  life  of  innocence,  what  consolation 
does  not  the  retrospect  ins|)ire?  This  was  the 
case  with  Jesus  Christ.  Who  ever  carried  so 
far  charity,  holy  fervour,  the  practice  of  every 
virtue.'  Who  ever  was  more  blameless  in  con- 
duct, more  ardent  in  devotion,  more  pure  in 
secret  retirement? 

3.  Jesus  Christ  died,  thoroughly  persuaded 
of  the  immortality  of  tlie  soul.  When  a  man 
has  passed  his  life  in  atheism,  and  is  dying  in  a 
state  of  uncertainty:  haunted  with  the  appre- 
hension of  falling  into  a  state  of  annihilation; 
reduced  to  exclaim,  with  Adrian,  "  O  my  soul, 
whither  art  thou  going?"  Nature  shudders;  our 
attachment  to  existence  inspires  horror,  at  the 
thought  of  existing  no  longer.  But  when  we 
have  a  distant  knowledge  of  what  man  is;  when 
we  are  under  a  complete  conviction  tiiat  ho 
consists  of  two  distinct  substances,  of  spirit,  and 
of  matter;  when  wo  become  thoroughly  per- 
suaded, that  the  destruction  of  the  one  does 
not  imply  the  destruction  of  the  other;  that  if 
"  the  dust  return  to  the  eartli  as  it  was,  the 
spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it,"  Ec- 
cles.  xii.  7;  when  wo  know  that  the  soul  is  the 
seat  of  all  perception;  that  the  body  is  merely 
a  medium  of  intelligence;  that  the  soul,  when 
disengaged  from  matter,  may  retain  tlie  same 
ideas,  the  same  sentiments,  as  when  united  to 
the  body;  that  it  may  be  capable  of  perceiving 
the  sun,  the  stars,  the  firmament,  death  is  no 
longer  formidable.  This,  too,  was  the  case 
with  Jesus  Christ.  If  ever  any  one  enjoyed  a 
persuasion  of  the  inunorUility  of  the  soul,  and 
of  the  resurrection,  it  undoubtedly  was  this  di- 
vine Saviour,     lie  it  was  who  had  derived  all 


tlio  stores  of  knowledge  from  the  bosom  of  the 
Father,  and  who  had  "  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light,"  2  Tim.  i.  20. 

IV.  Finally,  Jesus  Christ  died  in  the  perfect 
assurance  of  that  felicity  which  he  was  going 
to  take  possession  of  When  the  dying  person 
beholds  hell  opening  under  his  feet,  and  begins 
to  feel  the  gnawings  of  "  the  worm  which  dicth 
not,  and  the  torment  of  the  fire  that  is  never 
to  be  ([uenched,"  Mark  ix.  44,  it  is  not  aston- 
ishing that  he  should  die  in  terror.  But  when 
he  can  say,  as  he  looks  death  in  the  face, 
"there  is  the  termination  of  all  my  woes,  and 
the  reward  of  all  my  labours;  I  am  going  to  re- 
store my  soul  into  the  hands  of  my  Creator;  I 
behold  heaven  open  to  receive  it;"  what  trans- 
ports of  delight  must  not  such  a  prospect  im- 
part! Such,  too,  was  the  case  with  Jesus 
Christ.  If  ever  any  one  could  have  enjoyed  a 
foretaste  of  the  paradise  of  God;  if  ever  any 
one  could  conceive  sublime  ideas  of  that  glory 
and  blessedness,  still  it  was  Jesus  Christ.  He 
knew  all  these  things  by  experience:  he  knew 
all  tlie  apartments  of  the  kingdom  of  his  Fa- 
ther: from  God  he  had  come,  and  to  God  he 
was  returning.  Nay  there  must  have  been 
something  peculiar  in  his  triumph,  transcend- 
ently  superior  to  that  of  the  faithful  in  general. 
Because  "he  humbled  himself,  and  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross;  God  was  about  highly  to  exalt  him,  and 
to  give  him  a  name  that  is  above  every  name," 
Phil.  ii.  8,  9.  A  cloud  was  going  to  serve  him 
as  a  triumphal  car,  and  the  church  triumphant 
was  preparing  to  receive  their  King  in  these 
rapturous  strains:  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye 
gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors, 
and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in,"  Ps. 
xxiv.  7. 

What,  then,  shall  Jesus  Clirist  do?  shall  he 
meet  death  with  joy?  shall  he  say  with  St.  Paul, 
"  I  have  a  desire  to  depart'"  shall  he  exclaim 
with  the  female  celebrated  in  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory: this  is  the  day  that  crowns  are  distribut- 
ed, and  I  go  to  receive  my  share?  No,  Jesua 
Christ  trembles,  he  grows  pale,  his  sweat  be- 
comes "  as  great  drops  of  blood,"  Luke  xxii. 
14,  he  cries  out,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me?" 

Add  to  these  reflections,  the  promises  of 
divine  assistance,  which  all  the  fliithful  have  a 
right  to  claim,  in  the  midst  of  tribulation,  and 
which  .lesus  Christ  must  have  had  a  far  supe- 
rior right  to  plead,  had  he  died  a  mere  ordinary 
death;  but  of  the  consolation  flowing  from 
these  he  seems  entirely  deprived. 

Add,  in  a  particular  manner,  the  example  of 
the  martyrs.  They  met  death  with  unshaken 
fortitude:  they  braved  the  most  cruel  torments: 
their  firmness  struck  their  very  executioners 
with  astonishment.  In  Jesus  Clirist  we  behold 
nothing  similar  to  this. 

Nay,  I  will  go  farther,  and  say,  that  ever»  ^ 
the  penitent  thief  discovers  more  firmness,  in  ^ 
his  dying  moments,  than  the  Saviour  himself. 
He  addresses  himself  to  Jesus  Christ,  ho  im- 
plores his  mercy,  and^  set  at  rest  by  the  pro- 
mises given  to  him,  he  expires  in  traiuiuillity: 
Jesus  Christ,  on  the  contrary,  seems  equally  to 
despair  of  relief  from  heavcu  and  from  the 
eartii. 

The  opposurs  of  the  satisfaction  of  Jesus 


Ser.  LXXIII.] 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


160 


Christ  will  find  it  absolutely  impossible  to  re- 
solve these  difticulties:  the  doctrine  of  the  sa- 
tisfaction is  the  only  key  tliat  can  unlock  this 
mystery.  "  Innumerable  evils  have  compassed 
me  about,"  is  the  prophetic  language  of  the 
psalmist,  "mine  iniquities  have  taken  hold 
upon  me,  so  that  I  am  not  able  to  look  up: 
they  are  more  than  the  hairs  of  mine  head, 
therefore  my  heart  faileth  me,"  Pa.  xl.  12. 
"  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he 
was  bruised  for  our  iniquities:  the  chastisement 
of  our  peace  was  upon  him:"  as  Isaiah  ex- 
presses himself,  chap.  liii.  5.  *'  God  spared 
not  his  own  Son,"  Rom.  viii.  32,  "  he  hath 
made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,"  2  Cor.  v.  21,  "  be- 
ing made  a  curse  for  us,"  Gal.  iii.  13,  to  use 
the  language  of  St.  Paul:  this  is  what  we  un- 
dertook to  prove;  and  this  is  the  first  idea  un- 
der which  we  proposed  to  represent  tlie  dying 
Saviour  of  the  world. 


SERMON  LXXIII. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 

PART  II. 


Matthew  xxvii.  45 — 53. 

JJhw  from  tlu  sixth  hour  there  was  darkness  over 
all  the  land  unto  the  ninth  hour.  Jlnd  ahout 
the  ninth  hour  Jesus  aied  vnth  a  loud  voice, 
saying,  Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachthani?  that  is  to 
say,  My  God,  my  God,  ivhy  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?  Some  of  them  that  stood  there,  vhen  thty 
heard  that,  said,  This  man  cullcth  for  Elias. 
Jlnd  straighticay  one  of  them  ran,  and  took  a 
sponge,  and  filled  it  with  vinegar,  and  put  it 
on  a  reed,  and  gave  him  to  drink.  The  rest 
said,  Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias  will  come 
to  save  him.  Jesus,  when  he  had  cried  again 
with  a  loud  voice,  yielded  up  the  ghost.  And, 
behold,  the  veil  of  the  temple  icas  rent  in  twain 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom:  and  the  earth  did 
quake;  aiul  the  rocks  rent;  and  the  graves  were 
opened;  and  many  bodies  of  saints  which  slept, 
arose,  and  came  out  of  the  graves  after  his  resur- 
rection, and  went  into  llie  holy  city,  and  ap- 
peared unto  numy. 

Having  represented  the  death  of  Christ 
under  the  idea,  1.  Of  an  expiatory  sacrifice, 
in  which  the  victim  was  charged  with  the  sins 
of  the  whole  world;  we  proceed, 

2.  To  consider  it,  as  the  body  of  all  the  sha- 
dows, the  truth  of  all  the  types,  the  accom- 
plishment of  all  the  predictions  of  the  ancient 
dispensation,  respecting  the  Messiah.  In  fact, 
on  what  state  or  period  of  the  Old  Testament 
church  can  we  throw  our  eyes,  without  dis- 
covering images  of  a  dying  Jesus,  and  traces 
of  the  sacrifice  which  he  offered  up? 

If  we  resort  to  the  origin  of  all  our  woes, 
there  also  we  find  the  remedy.  You  will  dis- 
cover that  Adam  had  no  sooner  by  transgres- 
sion fallen,  than  God  promised  him  a  "  seed, 
whose  heel  the  seed  of  the  scrjjent  should 
bruise,"  but  who,  in  the  very  act  of  suffering, 
should  "  bruise  the  serpent's  head,"'  Gen.  iii. 
15.  You  will  find  this  same  promi.se  repeated 
to  Abraham;  that  seed  ainiounced  anew  to 
the  patriarchs,  and,  taking  St.  Paul  for  youi- 

Vol.  II.— 22 


instructer,  you  will  discover  that  this  seed  is 
Jesus  Christ,  Gal.  iii.  16. 

If  you  contemplate  the  temporal  wonders 
which  God  was  pleased  to  work  in  favour  of 
the  Jewish  nation,  you  will  discover  every 
where  in  them  an  adumbration  of  the  spiritual 
blessings  which  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  was 
to  procure  for  the  church.  You  will  there  see 
the  blood  of  a  lamb  on  the  doors  of  the  Israel- 
ites. It  was  the  shadow  of  that  "  Lamb  with- 
out blemish  and  without  spot,  foreordained  be- 
fore the  foundation  of  the  world,"  1  Pet.  i.  19, 
20.  You  will  there  behold  a  rock,  whicii  when 
smitten,  emitted  a  stream  sufficient  to  quench 
the  thirst  of  a  great  people.  This  was  a  shadow 
of  Jesus  Christ.  St.  Paul  tells  us  that  it  was 
Christ  himself,  who  refreshes  us  with  "  living 
water,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life,"  1 
Cor.  X.  4,  and  John  iv.  14.  You  will  there 
behold  a  serpent  lifted  up,  the  sight  of  which 
healed  the  deadly  wounds  of  the  Israelites.  It 
was  a  shadow  of  him  who  was  to  be  lifted  up 
on  the  cross. 

If  you  look  into  the  Levitical  worship,  you 
will  perceive  through  the  whole  types  of  this 
death,  a  perpetual  sacrifice,  tlie  type  of  hira 
"  whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood,"  Rom.  iii.  25.  You 
will  there  behold  victims,  the  types  of  him 
"who,  through  the  eternal  Spirit,  offered  him- 
self without  spot  to  God,  to  purge  the  con- 
science irom  dead  works,  to  serve  the  living 
God,"  Heb.  ix.  14;  a  scape-goat,  bearing  "  on 
his  head  all  the  iniquities  of  the  children  of 
Israel,"  Lev.  xvi.  21.  The  type  of  him  who 
"  suffered  for  us  without  the  gate,"  Heb.  xiii. 
13. 

If  you  run  over  the  predictions  of  the  pro- 
phets, you  will  find  them,  as  with  one  mouth, 
annomicing  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ.  Now  it 
is  Isaiah  who  lifts  up  his  voice,  saying,  "  He  is 
despised  and  rejected  of  men,  a  man  of  sorrows 
....  who  made  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin 
....  who  is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaugh- 
ter, and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb, 
so  he  openeth  not  his  mouth  ....  who  was 
oppressed,  and  was  afflicted  ....  who  was 
cut  off  out  of  the  land  of  the  living,"  chap, 
liii.  3,  &c.  Now  it  is  Daniel  who  holds  up 
the  same  object:  "  Messiah  shall  be  cut  off, 
but  not  for  himself,"  chap.  ix.  26.  Now  Za- 
charias  takes  up  the  subject,  and  under  the  in- 
fluence of  prophetic  inspiration,  gives  anima- 
tion to  the  sword  of  "the  Lord  of  Hosts: 
Awake,  O  sword,  against  my  shepherd,  and 
against  the  man  who  is  my  fellow:  smite  the 
shepherd,  and  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered," 
chap.  xiii.  7.  Now  the  prophetic  David,  mi- 
nutely describing  his  sufferings,  in  such  affect- 
ing terms  as  these:  "  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me?  Why  art  thou  so  far 
from  helping  me,  and  from  the  words  of  my 
roaring?  O  my  God,  I  cry  in  ihe  day  time  but 
thou  hearcst  not;  and  in  the  night  season,  and 
am  not  silent:  ....  I  am  a  worm  and  no 
man;  a  reproach  of  men,  and  despised  of  the 
people:  all  they  that  see  me  laugh  me  to  scorn; 
liicy  shoot  out  the  lip,  and  shake  the  head," 
Ps.  xxii.  1,  2.  6,  1;  and,  in  another  place: 
"  Save  nic,  O  God,  for  the  waters  are  come  in 
unto  my  soul:  I  sink  in  deep  mire,  where  there 
is  no  standing:  I  am-  come  into  deep  waters, 


170 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


[Seh.  LXXIU. 


where  tlic  Hoods  «vorllow  lue.  I  am  weary  of 
my  crying,  my  throat  is  dried:  iiiiiio  eyes  fail 
while  I  wait  for  my  God  ....  for  thy  sake  I 
have  horno  reproach,  siiaine  hatli  covered  my 

face Il(;()roacli  hatli  broken  my  heart, 

and  I  am  full  of  heaviness:  and  I  looked  for 
some  to  take  i>ily,  hut  there  was  none;  and  for 
comforters,  but  I  found  none;  they  ffave  me 
also  gall  for  my  meat,  and  in  my  thirst  tliey 
gave  mo  vinegar  to  drink,"  I's.  Ixix.  I,  ii,  tte. 
Such  good  rca.son  have  we  to  consider  the 
death  of  Jesus  C'hrisl  under  this  second  idea: 
it  is  in  our  text.  The  Saviour  a|i()roi)riates  to 
himself  the  prediction  in  the  twenty-second 
psalm:  "My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  tiiou  for- 
saken me?"  and,  in  order  that  the  Scrijiture 
might  he  fulfdh'd,  he  gives  occasion  to  his  i:xe- 
cutioners  to  present  him  with  vinegar,  wliicli 
preceded  his  expiring  exclamation,  "  It  is 
finislied,"  as  it  is  related  by  another  of  the 
evangeli.sts. 

3.  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  is,  on  tho  ])art 
of  the  Jews,  an  atrocious  crime,  wiiicii  lias 
roused  the  indignation  of  Heaven,  and  armed 
universal  nature  iigainst  them.  But  where 
fihall  we  find  colours  black  enougli  to  dci)ict  it' 
Here  the  most  ardent  ellbrts  of  the  imagination 
must  fall  far  below  the  reality,  and  the  most 
lively  images  come  short  of  truth. 

Supposing  we  possessed  the  faculty  of  col- 
lecting, into  one  point  of  view,  all  tliat  was 
gentle  in  the  address  of  Jesus  Christ,  all  that 
was  fervent  in  his  piety,  humble  in  his  dcj)orl- 
ment,  pure  in  his  conduct:  supposing  us  capa- 
ble of  making  an  enumeration  of  all  tiie  bene- 
fits which  he  accumulated  on  the  heads  of  those 
monsters  of  ingratitude;  the  gracious  exhorta- 
tions which  he  addressed  to  them;  the  mira- 
cles of  goodness  wliich  he  performed  among 
them,  hi  healing  the  sick,  and  raising  the  dead: 
supposing  we  could  display  to  you  those  ma- 
lignant calumnies  with  which  they  loaded  him, 
those  abominable  and  repeated  falseiioods, 
those  cruel  and  remorseless  importunities  for 
permission  to  put  him  to  death,  wortiiy  of  tiio 
severest  execration  had  they  been  employed 
even  against  tho  most  detestable  of  mankind: 
could  wo  represent  to  you  all  that  was  barba- 
rous and  inhuman  in  the  punislmient  of  the 
cross;  by  telling  you  that  it  was  a  huge  stake 
crossed  by  another  piece  of  wood,  to  which 
they  bound  the  body  of  the  person  condenmed 
to  terminate  his  life  upon  it;  tiiat  the  two 
arms  were  stretched  out  upon  that  cross  beam, 
and  nailed,  as  well  as  botii  the  feet,  to  tho  tree, 
BO  that  the  body  of  tho  BulFerer,  sinking  with 
its  own  weight,  and  susjiended  by  its  nerves, 
was  speedily  reduced  to  ojie  vast  wound,  till 
the  violence  and  slowness  of  tlie  torment  at 
length  delivered  him,  and  the  blood  drained 
otf  drop  by  drop,  thus  exhausted  tiie  stream  of 
life:  su])p(jsing  us  to  have  detailed  all  the  ig- 
nominious circumstances  which  accompanied 
the  death  of  Clirist;  that  crown  of  thorns,  that 
purple  robe,  that  ridiculous  sceptre,  that  wag- 
ging of  tlie  head,  those  insulting  defiances  to 
save  himself,  as  he  had  saved  others — sujipos- 
ing,  I  say,  all  this  could  lie  colh^cted  into  one 
point  of  view,  we  should  still  believe  that  we 
had  conveyed  to  yf>u  iiiea.s  much  too  feeble,  of 
the  criminality  of  the  Jews. 

Nature  convulsed,  and  the  cleiiieuls  con- 1 


founded,  shall  supjily  our  defects,  and  serve, 
this  day,  as  so  many  preachers.  The  prodigies 
which  signalized  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ 
shall  persuade  more  j)owerfiilly  than  all  the 
figures  of  rlicloric.  That  darkness  which  covers 
tiie  earth,  tliat  veil  of  the  temi)Ie  rent  in  twain, 
that  trembling  wjiicli  has  seized  the  solid  globe, 
those  rocks  dell  asunder,  tiioso  yawning 
graves,  those  reviving  dead,  they,  they  are  the 
pathetic  orators  who  reproach  tiie  Jews  with 
the  atrocity  of  tlieir  guilt,  and  denounce  their 
impending  destruction.  Tin;  sun  shrouds  him- 
self in  the  shades  of  night,  as  unable  to  behold 
this  accursed  parricide,  and  wliat  courtly  poets 
said  in  adulation,  namely,  that  the  orb  of  day 
clotiied  himself  in  mourning,  whr;n  Julius 
(^'sur  was  a.s.>«Ls.siiiated  in  the  .senate  house, 
was  here  realized  under  special  direction  of 
divine  Trovidence.  The  veil  of  the  temple  is 
lent  asunder,  as  on  a  day  of  lamentation  and 
wo.  Tlie  eaitli  trembles,  as  refusing  to  sup- 
l)ort  tlie  wretches,  whose  sacrilegious  hands 
were  attacking  the  life  of  him  who  "fastened 
tlie  Ibundations  thereof,"  Job  xxxviii.  6,  and 
"  founded  it  ujion  its  bases,"  Ps.  civ.  6.  The 
rocks  cleave,  as  if  to  reprove  the  Jews  for  the 
hardness  of  their  hearts.  The  dead  start  from 
tiieir  tombs,  as  coming  to  condemn  the  rage 
of  the  living. 

4.  Tiie  deatii  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  system  of 
morality,  in  which  every  virtue  is  clearly  traced.  • 
If  the  divine  justice  be  an  oliject  of  fear,  where 
is  it  more  powerfully  int-ulcated  than  on  the 
cross  of  Jesus  CliiisL'  How  very  terrible  does 
that  justice  there  appear!  It  goes  in  pursuit 
of  its  victim  into  the  very  heaven  of  heavens. 
It  extends  on  tho  altar  a  Divine  Man.  It 
spares  not  the  Son  of  God,  his  own  Son. 
And  thou,  miserable  sinner,  who  canst  present 
nothing  to  tho  eyes  of  thy  judge  but  what  is 
odious  and  abominable,  how  slialt  thou  bo  able 
to  escape  his  vengeance,  if  violating  the  law» 
of  the  gospel  thou  renderest  thyself  so  much 
the  more  worthy  of  condemnation,  that  thou 
hadst,  in  that  very  gospel,  the  clicctual  means 
of.  deliverance.' 

If  vice  is  to  bo  held  in  detestation,  where  is 
this  lesson  so  forcibly  taught  as  from  tho  cross 
of  Jesus  Christ?  Let  the  man  wiio  makes 
light  of  sill,  who  forms  to  himself  agrocable 
images,  and  feeds  on  flattering  ideas  of  it, 
learn,  at  the  cross  of  Christ,  to  contemplate  it 
in  its  true  light:  let  him  form  a  judgment  of 
tho  cause  from  the  ellccts;  and  let  him  never 
think  of  sin,  without  tliinking  at  the  same 
time,  on  the  pangs  which  it  cost  the  Saviour  of 
the  world. 

If  we  wish  for  models  to  copy,  where  shall 
we  find  models  so  venerable  as  on  the  cross  of 
ClirisL'  Let  the  i)roud  man  go  to  tiie  cross  of 
Ciirist;  let  him  there  behold  the  Word  in  a 
state  of  humiliation;  let  him  there  coiiteiii]dato 
the  person  who  made  himself  of  no  reputation, 
and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and 
condescended  to  submit  to  the  punishment  of 
a  slave:  tho  person  who  being  in  tiie  form  of 
(iod,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
(iod:  hit  the  proud  man  look  to  him,  ami  learii 
to  Ik!  humble.  Let  the  vnlujituous  repair  to 
the  cross  of  Christ;  let  him  tiiero  behold  the 
ilcsh  crucified,  the  senses  subdued,  pleasure 
mortified,  and  leara  tu  bring  lurth  iruits  meet 


Sen.  LXXIII] 


THE  CRnriFIXION. 


171 


for  ropentancn.  Lot.  Iho  implacable  repair  to  i  Tho  (rospcl  tolls  iis  not  that  sfroatness  and 
tlio  cross  of  (Jhrisl;  l(!t  him  thnio  contf:iii|il;it(!  doprcssiuii,  lh;il  i^jiioiiiiiiy  and  p,\<jTy,  that  the 
Jesus  Clhrist  dyiiifj  for  his  oiiomi»;s,  jimyin^r  mortal,  and  the  ininiurtal  nature,  were  con- 
even  for  his  nmrderers,  and  learn  to  put  on    fijunded  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.    Itsim- 


bowels  of  inorcies.  Lot  the  niurmiirer  go  Icj 
the  cross  of  Christ;  let  him  yo  and  study  that 
complete  submission  which  tiiis  divine  Saviour 
yielded  to  the  most  rigid  commands  of  his  Fa- 
ther, and  learn  to  resign  himself  in  all  things 
to  the  will  of  God. 

If  we  arc  bound  to  love  our  lawgiver,  where 
can  we  learn  this  lesson  better  than  at  the 
cross  of  Christ'  From  that  cross  we  hear  him 
crying  aloud  to  the  guilty  and  the  wretched: 
"  JSehold,  O  sinners,  beiiold  the  tokens  of  my 
afl'oction:  behold  my  hands  and  my  feet:  i)e- 
hold  this  pierced  side:  l)oliold  all  th(!se  wounds 
with  which  my  body  is  torn:  boliold  all  those 
stripes  of  the  justice  of  my  Father,  which  I 
endure  for  your  salvation."  At  a  spectacle  so 
moving,  is  there  an  obduracy  so  invincible  as 
not  to  bend?  Is  tliere  a  heart  so  hard  as  to  re- 
fuse to  nielL'  Is  there  a  love  so  ardent  as  not 
to  kindle  into  a  brighter  ilamc' 

6.  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  mystery 
inaccessible  to  reason,  but  which  all  the  dilH- 
culties  that  reason  can  muster,  are  unable  to 
impair. 

It  is  a  mystery  inaccessible  to  reason:  let  it 
o.'çplain  to  me  that  wonderful  union  of  great- 
ness and  depression,  of  ignominy,  and  glory,  of 
an  immortal  God  with  a  dying  man. 

Let  reason  explain  to  me,  how  it  comes  to 
pass,  that  though  God  is  unsusceptible  of  suf- 
fering and  dying,  the  sufferings  and  death  of 
Jesus  Christ  should,  however,  derive  all  their 
efficacy  from  his  nature  as  God. 

Let  reason  explain  to  me,  how  Jesus  Christ 
could  satisfy  divine  justice,  and  be,  at  the  same 
time,  if  the  expression  be  lawful,  the  Judge  and 
tiio  party  condemned,  the  Avenger  and  the 
party  avenged,  he  who  satisfied,  and  he  to  whom 
satisfaction  was  made. 

Let  reason  explain  to  me,  how  Jesus  nailed 
to  the  cross,  is  nevertheless  worthy  of  the  adora- 
tion of  men  and  of  angels,  so  that  the  Jew  who 
cruciHes  him,  is  at  once  his  executioner  and  his 
creature. 

I^t  reason  explain  to  me,  above  all,  that 
mystery  of  love  which  wo  see  displayed  on  the 
cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  how  God,  who  is  so 
great,  and  so  highly  exalted,  should  have  vouch- 
safed to  perform,  in  behalf  of  man,  a  being  so 
low  and  contemptii)lo,  wonders  so  astonishing. 
n(înd,  bend,  proud  reason,  under  the  weiglit 
of  these  difficulties,  and  from  the  extent  of 
tiiose  mysteries,  learn  the  narrowness  of  thy 
own  empire. 

"  It  is  the  wisdom  of  God  in  a  mystery,  which 
none  of  the  princes  of  tiiis  world  knew,"  1 
Cor.  ii.  7,  8.  It  is  "  the  great  mystery  of  god- 
liness," 1  Tim.  iii.  16.  These  are  "  the  things 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  the  natural  man 
rcceiveth  not,"  1  Cor.  ii.  14.  This  is  the 
"  stmnbling  block  of  the  Jew:"  this  is  "  to  the 
Greek  foolishness,"  1  Cor.  i.  23.  "  These  are 
the  things  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
lieard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man,"  1  Cor.  ii.  9.  This  is  a  mystery  inacces- 
sible to  reason,  but  it  is  a  mystery,  whoso  truth 
and  importance  all  the  difficulties  which  reoiion 
can  muster,  aro  unable  to  impair. 


[)ly  informs  us  that  God,  in  the  depths  of  his 
inlinito  wiiiiliim,  kiiitw  how  to  miile  depression 
to  grt!ulncsH,  glory  to  ignominy,  the  mortal  to 
tile  innnortal  nature.  This  is  a  mystery  inao- 
ces.sii)!e  to  reason,  but  against  which  reason  has 
no  title  to  murmur. 

The  gospel  does  not  tell  us  that  God,  who  is 
unsuscci)til)le  of  either  suffi3ring  or  death,  suf- 
fered and  died,  but  that  the  subject  su.sceptible 
of  sutfering  united  to  the  impassable,  suffered; 
that  th(!  mortal,  united  to  the  immortal  sub- 
ject, died;  and  that,  in  virtue  of  this  union,  his 
sullhrings  and  death  pos-sess  an  infmite  value. 
This  is  a  mystery  inaccessible  to  reason,  but 
against  which  reason  has  no  title  to  repine. 

The  gospel  docs  not  tell  us  that  Jesus  Christ 
considered  as  nailed  to  a  cross,  as  sufi^ring,  as 
dying,  is  worthy  of  adoration,  but,  in  virtue  of 
his  intimate  union  witii  Deity,  that  he  is  an  ob- 
jdct  of  adoration  to  men  and  to  angels.  This  is 
a  mystery  inaccessible  to  rea-son,  but  against 
it  reason  has  not  a  title  to  reclaim. 

The  gospel  does  not  tell  us  that  man,  a  be- 
ing so  mean,  vile,  grovelling,  could  have  me- 
rited this  prodigy  of  love;  but  that  God  has 
derived  it  from  himself,  as  an  independent 
source,  and  tliat  he  considers  it  as  essential  to 
his  glory,  to  acknowledge  no  other  foundation 
of  liis  benefits,  but  the  misery  of  those  to 
whom  he  is  pleased  to  communicate  them. — 
This  is  a  mystery  inaccessible  to  reason,  but 
against  which  reason  has  not  a  title  to  re- 
claim. 

6.  There  remains  only  one  idea  more,  un- 
der which  we  wish  to  represent  the  death  of 
the  Saviour  of  the  world.  It  is  the  triumph 
of  Jesus  Christ  over  death,  and  the  consola- 
tion of  the  dying  believer.  Death  may  be 
considered  in  three  points  of  view.  (1.)  It 
throws  us  into  the  darkness  of  gloomy  night. 
(2.)  It  summons  us  to  appear  beibre  a  tremen- 
dous tribunal.  (3.)  It  strips  us  of  our  dear- 
est possessions.  Jesus  Christ  expires  on  the 
cross,  triumphs  over  death,  in  these  three  seve- 
ral respects. 

I5ut  it  would  be  necessary  to  possess  the  art 
of  renewing  your  attention,  in  order  success- 
fully to  undertake  the  task  of  pressing  these 
ideas  upon  your  minds,  for  thoy  are  more  than 
sufficient  to  furnish  matter  for  a  complete  now 
discourse. 

I  must  confine  myself,  at  present,  to  one  con- 
sideration, founded  on  the  rending  of  the  veil 
of  the  temple,  mentioned  in  the  text.  We 
have  already  pointed  it  out  as  a  token  of  the 
vengeance  »>f  heaven  against  the  Jewish  na- 
tion. It  may  likewisi^  i)n  considered  in  anotlier 
point  of  view,  conformably  to  the  decision  of 
St.  Paul,  and  to  the  ideas  of  the  Jews.  That 
people  looked  on  their  temples  as  a  figure  of 
the  universe.  We  have,  on  this  subject,  pas- 
sages expressly  to  the  purpose,  in  Philo  and  Jo- 
scphus.  All  that  was  on  the  outside  of  the 
most  holy  place,  represented,  to  them,  nature 
and  the  elements.  The  scarlet  colour  of  the 
sanctuary  represented  fire.  The  hyacinthine 
represented  the  air.  The  seven  branches  of 
tho  candlestick  represented  tlie  seven  planets. 


172 


THE  CRUCIFIXION. 


[Ser.  LXXIU. 


The  twelve  cakes  of  show  bread  rcjircsenlcd 
tlje  signs  of  tlie  Zodiac,  and  the  twelve  iiioiilhs 
of  the  year.  liutthey  said,  that  the  most  holy 
place  had  been  set  a|)art  for  (lud:  thai  tht;  I'ro- 
pitiatury  was  his  throne,  tliat  the  cherubim  were 
his  ciiariot.* 

On  this  principle,  the  veil,  which  separated 
the  holy  place  from  the  Holy  of  Holies,  was 
an  imago  of  the  obstacles  which  interposed  be- 
tween the  creature  and  the  heavenly  habita- 
tion, in  which  God  resides.  This  veil  is  rent 
asunder  at  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ;  these  ob- 
etaclcs  are  removed;  access  into  the  abode  of 
the  blessed  is  open  to  us:  and  this  is  the  spirit 
of  the  ceremonial  observance  prescribed  in  the 
Levitical  worship:  "  Into  the  second  went  the 
high  priest  alone,  once  every  year,  not  without 
blood,"  says  St.  Paul  in  his  epistle  to  the  He- 
brews; "The  Holy  Ghost  tiiis  signifying,  that 
tlie  way  into  the  holiest  of  all  was  not  yet  made 
manife*,  while  as  the  first  tabernacle  was  yet 
standing:  but  Christ  being  come,  a  high  priest 
of  good  things  to  come,  by  a  greater  and  more 
perfect  tabernacle,  by  his  own  blood,  entered 
into  the  holy  place,  having  obtained  eternal  re- 
demption for  us,"  Heb.  ix.  1,  Sic. 

Death,  then,  has  nothing,  henceforward,  for- 
midable to  the  Christian.  In  the  tomb  of  Je- 
sus Christ  are  dissipated  all  the  terrors  which 
the  tomb  of  nature  i)resents.  In  the  tomb  of 
nature,  O  sinner,  thou  bcholdest  thy  frailty, 
thy  subjection  to  the  bondage  of  corruption: 
in  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ  thou  beholdest  thy 
strength  and  thy  deliverance.  In  the  tomb  of 
nature  the  punishment  of  sin  stares  thee  in  the 
face:  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ  thou  findcst 
the  expiation  of  it.  From  the  tomb  of  nature 
thou  hcarest  the  dreadful  sentence  pronounced 
against  all  the  posterity  of  Adam:  "  Dust 
thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return," 
Gen.  iii.  19:  but  from  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ 
issue  those  accents  of  consolation:  "  I  am  the 
resurrection,  and  the  life;  he  that  believeth  in 
me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live," 
John  xi.  25.  In  the  tomb  of  nature  thou 
readest  this  universal,  this  irrevocable  doom  I 
written:  "  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to 
die,"  Heb.  ix.  27;  but  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus 
Christ,  thy  tongue  is  loosed  into  this  triumphant 
song  of  praise:  "  O  death,  where  is  tliy  sting? 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  Thanks  be  to 
God  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  1  Cor.  xv.  55.  61. 

All  that  now  remains  is  to  conclude  with  a 
few  reflections  by  way  of  recapitulation.  My 
brethren,  for  some  weeks  j)ast,  there  have  been 
traced  before  your  eyes  the  successive  particu- 
lars of  the  passion  and  death  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  world.  You  have  seen  him  betrayed,  ap- 
prehended, arraigned,  condemned,  and  expiring 
under  the  most  shameful,  and  tlie  most  cruel 
of  all  punishments. 

Do  you  comprehend  all  that  is  sublime  in 
these  truths?  Do  you  feel,  in  all  its  extent, 
the  value  of  these  benefitji''  Have  you,  at 
least,  made  the  attempt  to  take  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  love  of  God,  and  "  to  com])rehend 
with  all  saints,  what  is  the  l)readtii,  and  length, 
and  depth,  and  height:  and  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ,  which  pawcth  knowledge,  that  you 

*  Consult  Jowjih.  Aiilii).  lil>.  iii.  cap.  5,  anJ  I'liil.  de 
Vita  Mo»i»,  lib.  iii.  p.  0G7,  «ic. 


may  Ix;  filled  with  all  the  fullnew  of  God?" 
Kph.  iii.  18,  19. 

Ah!  let  us  beware,  my  beloved  brethren,  tliat 
we  ilcceive  not  ourselves  as  to  this;  after  lo 
many  dislinguislicd  tokens  of  the  grace  of 
God,  we  are  going  to  become  the  most  wretch- 
ed, or  the  happiest,  of  all  creatures.  Our  con- 
dition admits  not  of  mediocrity.  The  two 
interesting  extremes  present  themselves  to 
view — the  extreme  of  justice,  and  the  extreme 
of  mercy.  We  are  going  to  prove  all  that  is 
mild  and  gentle  in  the  peace  of  God,  or  all 
that  is  tremendous  in  his  indignation:  and  that 
blood  which  we  have  seen  poured  out,  must  be 
upon  our  heads  either  to  attract,  or  to  repel, 
the  thunder. 

"  His  blood  be  upon  us,  and  on  our  chil- 
dren," Matt,  xxvii.  :;5.  This  was  the  impreca- 
tion of  those  barbarous  Jews,  who  with  impor- 
tunity demanded  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
glutted  themselves  with  his  sutterings.  But  it 
was,  in  a  far  different  sense,  the  interior  voice 
of  those  believing  souls,  who  entered  into  the 
design  of  God,  wiio,  by  faith,  sprirdiled  them- 
selves with  this  blood,  which  was  to  form  the 
bond  of  union  between  heaven  and  earth. 

"  His  blood  be  on  us,  and  on  our  children." 
This  is  the  voice  which  now  resounds  from  ear 
to  ear,  and  which  must  be  accomplished  on 
this  assembly,  in  one  sense  or  another.  Yes, 
this  blood  shall  be  upon  you,  in  vengeance  and 
malediction,  as  it  was  upon  ungrateful  Jerusa- 
lem, in  your  families  to  trouble  their  peace,  in 
your  plans  to  defeat  them,  in  your  establish- 
ments to  sap  them  to  the  foundation,  in  your 
consciences  to  harrow  them  up,  in  your  death- 
bed to  darken  it  with  horror  and  despair,  and 
through  all  the  periods  of  eternity,  demanding 
the  expiation  of  the  crime,  of  having  trampled 
under  foot  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  and 
of  having  crucified  afresh  the  Lord  of  glory. 
Or  it  will  be  upon  you,  yes,  this  blood  will  be 
upon  you,  to  strengthen  you  under  all  your  in- 
firmities, to  preserve  you  in  the  hour  of  temp- 
tation, to  console  you  under  the  pressure  of 
calamity,  to  speak  peace  to  the  troubled  con- 
science, to  support  you  in  dying  agony,  to  ren- 
der your  death  blessed,  and  eternity  triimi- 
phant. 

I  dwell  for  a  moment  on  these  last  ideas,  and 
under  an  illusion  of  charity,  I  apply  them  to 
all  those  who  compose  my  audience.  Happy 
they,  to  whom  they  are  applicable  of  a  truth! 
To  have  been  attentive  to  the  history  of  the 
sufferings  and  death  of  tiie  Saviour  of  the 
world,  which,  for  some  time  past,  has  been  the 
great  subject  of  our  address,  to  have  traced  it 
through  all  its  successive  circumstances,  to 
have  felt  the  necessity,  and  to  have  penetrated 
into  the  design  of  the  whole;  to  have  applied 
to  ourselves  the  lessons  which  it  inculcates,  the 
consolations  wiiich  it  supplies,  the  hope  which 
it  inspires;  to  deduce,  from  those  grand  objects, 
consequences  affecting  the  conduct  of  life, 
tending  to  promote  sanctity  of  manners,  supe- 
riority to  the  world,  love  to  God  so  rich  in 
mercy,  desire  of  possessing  that  in  perfection, 
of  which  displays  so  astonishing,  convey  ideas 

so  su!)lime 

After  tlmt,  to  come  next  Lord's  day  to  the 
table  of  Jesus  Christ,  with  the  understanding 
convinced,  the    heart  overflowing,  the    soul 


Ser.  LXXIV.] 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


173 


penetrated:  to  discern,  in  tlio  bread  and  the 
wine  of  which  wc  are  to  partake,  the  symbols 
of  that  death,  whose  memorial  the  cliiircli  is 
celebratiiijj:  to  promise  unto  Cîod,  over  tliose 
august  pledges  of  his  love,  to  render  to  iiim 
love  for  love,  and  life  for  life:  to  expand  tiie 
heart  in  such  emotions;  to  communicate  in 
sueh  a  dis|^)OBition,  and  to  wait  for  death  under 
such  impressions — these  are  the  loftiest  objects 
which  man  can  propose  to  his  meditation. 
This  is  the  highest  point  of  perfection  which 
wo  are  capable  of  attaining,  in  the  course  of 
this  mortal  pilgrimage.  This  is  llie  purest  de- 
light that  we  can  taste  in  this  valley  of  tears. 

I  trust,  my  dearly  beloved  brethren,  that 
these  sublime  objects  shall  not  have  been  pre- 
sented to  you  in  vain.  I  trust  tiiat  so  many 
exhortations  will  not  fall  to  the  ground  totally 
without  success.  I  trust  that  these  first  emo- 
tions, which  it  is  impossible  to  withhold  from 
an  expiring  Saviour,  will  not  be  "as  the  early 
cloud,  and  as  the  morning  dew,"  Hos.  vi.  4; 
which  appear  for  a  moment,  and  arc  dissipated 
in  a  moment.  I  trust  they  will  henceforward 
engage  your  heart,  your  mind,  your  whole  life, 
and  that  they  will  accompany  you  to  the  bed 
of  death.  I  trust,  that  when  this  awful  period 
comes,  instead  of  that  mortal  reluctance,  in- 
stead of  those  insupportable  forebodings  which 
imrepented  guilt  inspires,  the  image  of  Jesus 
Christ  crucified,  present  to  your  eyes;  what  do 
I  say,  of  .Jesus  Christ  crucified?  of  Jesus  Christ 
raised  from  the  dead,  glorious,  sitting  at  the 
right  hand  of  his  Father;  of  Jesus  Christ,  pre- 
senting continually  before  his  eyes  the  value 
of  that  blood  which  he  shed  for  the  salvation 
of  the  human  race;  of  Jesus  Christ  extending 
his  arms  to  receive  your  departing  spirit,  that 
he  may  bind  it  up  "in  the  bundle  of  life:"  I 
trust  that  this  image  will  dispel  all  the  terrors 
of  death,  and  thus  prepare  you  to  pass  from 
the  dispensation  of  grace,  to  the  dispensation 
of  glory. 

In  the  dispensation  of  grace,  you  have  be- 
held the  Son  of  God  invested  with  "  the  form 
of  a  servant;"  in  the  dispensation  of  glory,  you 
shall  behold  him  arrayed  in  all  splendour  and 
magnificence.  In  the  dispensation  of  grace, 
you  have  beheld  the  King  of  kings  attended 
by  an  humble  train  of  disciples  of  but  mean 
appearance:  in  the  dispensation  of  glory,  you 
shall  behold  him  accompanied  by  the  heavenly 
hosts,  legions  of  angels  and  archangels,  of  the 
cherubim  and  of  the  seraphim.  In  the  dispen- 
sation of  grace,  you  have  beheld  Jesus  Christ 
expiring  ignominiously  upon  the  cross:  in  the 
dispensation  of  glory,  you  shall  behold  him  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven,  judging  the  quick  and 
the  dead.  In  the  dispensation  of  grace,  you 
have  heard  the  lips  of  your  Saviour  thus  speak- 
ing peace  to  your  soul:  "  Son,  be  of  good  cheer, 
thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee:"  in  the  dispensation 
of  glory,  you  shall  hear  this  decision  from  his 
mouth;  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  in- 
herit the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,"  Matt.  xxv.  34.  May 
God  of  his  infin\te  mercy  grant  it!  To  him  be 
Jionour  and  glory  now  and  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXIV. 


OBSCURE  FAITH; 

OR, 

TIIE    BLESSEDJŒSS    OF  BELIEVIKG, 
WITHOUT  lUVmO  HEEM 


John  xx.  29. 
Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Thomas,  because  thou  hast 
seen  me  thou  hast  beliex^ed:  blessed  are  they  that 
have  not  seen,  aiul  yet  have  believed. 
Stravoe  is  the  condition  in  which  Provi- 
dence has  placed  the  Christian.  He  is  ever 
walking  in  the  midst  of  darkness  and  obscurity. 
He  is  placed  between  two  periods  of  gloomi- 
ness; between  the  cloudy  night  of  the  past,  and 
the  still  darker  night  of  futurity.  Does  he 
wish  to  a.scertain  the  truths  which  are  the  ob- 
ject of  his  faith?  They  are  founded  on  facts; 
and  in  order  to  be  assured  of  those  facts,  he 
must  force  his  way  backward,  through  more 
than  eighteen  hundred  centuries:  ho  must  dig 
truth  and  falsehood  out  of  the  rubbish  of  tra- 
dition; out  of  the  captious  systems  of  the  ene- 
mies of  Christianity;  nay,  sometimes  out  of 
the  pious  frauds,  on  which  an  indiscreet  zeal 
has  attempted  to  establish  it. 

If  he  wishes  to  ascertain  the  reality  of  that 
blessedness  which  is  the  object  of  his  hope,  he 
must  plunge  himself,  in  quest  of  it,  into  periods 
which  do  not  as  yet  subsist.  He  must  "  walk 
by  faith  and  not  by  sight,"  2  Cor.  v.  1,  he 
must  depart,  as  Abraham  did,  and  leave  "his 
kindred  and  his  father's  house,  without  know- 
ing, precisely,  whither  he  goes,"  Heb.  xi.  8. 
It  is  necessary  that  his  persuasion,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself,  should  form  a  new  creation  of 
things,  which  have  no  real  existence  as  to  him; 
or,  to  use  the  expression  of  St.  Paul,  his 
"  faith"  must  be  "  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen," 
Heb.  xi.  1.  Now,  it  is  to  such  obscurity,  it  is 
to  such  darkness,  that  a  man  is  called  to  sacri- 
fice all  that  the  human  mind  is  taught  to  con- 
sider as  the  greatest  reality  and  certainty,  I 
mean  the  decisions  of  reason,  and  the  felicities 
of  a  present  world.  What  a  situation!  What 
a  strange  situation! 

But  be  it  as  it  may,  we,  this  day,  place  our- 
selves, my  brethren,  between  these  two  dark 
clouds;  between  the  night  of  the  past,  and  the 
night  of  futurity.  In  what  are  the  duties  of 
this  day  to  terminate?  What  is  the  language 
suitable  to  the  day  which  is  now  passing?  /  6e- 
lieve:  Ihojie.  I  believe  that  the  Word  was  viade 
flesh,  that  he  suffered,  that  he  died,  that  he  rose 
again:  this  is  the  night  of  the  past.  /  hope 
that,  in  virtue  of  this  incarnation,  of  these  suf- 
ferings, of  this  resurrection,  "an  entrance  shal? 
be  ministered  unto  me  abundantly,  into  tte 
everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Savour 
Jesus  Christ,"  2  Pet.  i.  11,  and  that  I  shall 
partake  in  the  felicity  of  the  ever  blesswd  God: 
this  is  the  night  of  futurity.     /  belkve,  and  to 


174 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


[Ser.  LXXIV. 


that  belief  I  immolate  all  the  ideas  of  my  in- 
tellect, all  the  systems  of  my  reason.  /  hnpe, 
and  to  those  hopes  1  immolate  all  the  attrac- 
tives of  sensual  appetite,  all  tiio  charms  of  tlie 
visible  creation:  and  were  "all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them,"  Matt.  iv. 
8,  to  be  put  in  my  offer,  on  the  condition  that 
I  should  renounce  my  ho|)cs,  I  would  consider 
the  former  "  but  dung,"  Phil.  iii.  8,  and  cleave 
to  the  latter  as  the  only  real  and  solid  good. 

Who  is  there  among  you,  my  brethren,  who 
feels  himself  capable  of  this  effort  of  mind!  I 
acknowledge  him  to  be  a  true  disciple  of 
Jesus  Christ.  He  may  rest  assured  that  ho 
shall  be  received  as  a  wortliy  jiartakcr  at  tliat 
mysterious  table,  wliicli  sovereign  wisdom  is 
once  more,  tliis  day,  furnishing  before  our  eyes. 
But  he  may  likewise  rest  assured,  that  his  feli- 
city, veiled,  invisible  as  it  is,  sliall  remain  more 
firm  and  unshaken,  than  all  those  things  which 
are  the  idols  of  tho  children  of  tliis  world.  To 
meditation  on  this  interesting  subject  I  devote 
the  present  discourse,  to  which  you  cannot  ap- 
ply an  attention  too  profound. 

Tho  occasion  of  tho  words  of  our  text  it 
would  be  unnecessary  to  indicate.  Which  of 
my  hearers  can  be  such  a  novice  in  tho  gospel 
history  as  to  bo  ignorant  of  it'  Thomas  was 
not  present  with  the  other  apostles,  when  Jesus 
Christ  appeared  unto  them,  after  he  had  left 
the  tomb.  His  absence  produced  incredulity. 
He  refuses  to  yield  to  tho  united  testimony  of 
the  whole  apostolic  college.  He  solemnly  pro- 
tests that  there  is  but  one  way  to  convince  him 
of  the  certainty  of  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
Christ,  namely,  to  produce  him  alive.  "  No," 
says  he,  "except  1  shall  see  in  his  hands  the 
print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into  the 
print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his 
side,  I  will  not  believe,"  John  xx.  25.  Jesus 
Christ  is  pleased  to  adapt  his  condescension  to 
the  weakness  of  this  disciple,  and  to  gratify  a 
pretension  so  arrogant  and  rash:  ho  appears  to 
Thomas,  and  says  to  him:  "  Reach  hither  thy 
finger,  and  behold  my  hands;  and  reach  hither 
thy  hand,  and  thrust  it  into  my  side:  and  be 
not  faithless,  but  believing,"  ver.  27.  Thomas 
is  drawn  different  ways;  by  the  shamo  of  hav- 
ing disbelieved,  and  tho  joy  which  ho  felt  in 
being  convinced  by  the  testimony  of  his  own 
senses,  and  exclaims,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God!" 
upon  this  Jesus  Christ  addresses  liim  in  the 
words  of  the  text:  "  Thomas,  because  thou  hast 
seen  me  thou  hast  believed:  blessed  are  they 
that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

You  perceive  from  the  occîision  on  which 
tho  words  were  spoken,  that  they  point,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
Clurist.  Wo  shall  take  care,  accordingly,  not 
to  lose  sight  of  this  object.  Nevertheless,  as 
the  proposition  of  our  blessed  Lord  is  general, 
wo  shall  take  it  in  all  its  generality:  and  shall 
discourse  to  you  of  that  obscure  faith  which 
hjvorts  to  periods  long  since  passed,  and  looks 
foiward  into  periods  hidden  in  a  remote  futu- 
rity. The  nature  of  obscure  faith;  the  excel- 
lency of  obscure  faith:  this  is  the  simple  divi- 
sion of  my  present  dieconrso.  Or,  to  convey  a 
still  clearer  id.vi  of  my  design,  under  the  first 
head,  I  shall  endeavour  to  unfold  tho  ambigu- 
ity of  that  expression;  "to  believe  without 
having  seen:"  in  tlie  second,  I  shall  evince  tlic 


truth  of  this  proposition;  "  blessed  arc  they  tliat 
have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

1.  Let  us,  in  the  first  place,  endeavour  to 
explain  tho  naliire  of  obscure  faith:  or,  as  we 
have  announced  the  subject  of  this  first  branch 
of  our  discourse,  let  us  attempt  to  unfold  the 
ambiguity  of  the  expression,  "  Thomas,  because 
thou  liast  seen,  thou  hast  believed:  blessed  are 
they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 
I5y  obscure  faith  we  here  mean,  that  which  is 
founded,  not  on  what  a  man  has  seen  with  his 
own  eyes,  not  on  what  he  has  discovered  to 
be  true  by  the  powers  of  his  own  reason,  but 
on  testimony  wortliy  of  credit. 

Let  this  definition  be  carefully  remarked: 
and  let  this  be  constantly  kept  in  sight,  that 
tiiough  the  faith  of  which  we  are  speaking, 
has  not  a  certainty  resting  on  the  evidence  of 
tho  senses,  or  on  the  conclusions  of  right  rea- 
son, it  has  a  certainty  perfect  in  its  kind,  that 
wliicli  rests  on  a  testimony  worthy  of  credit. 
Take  care,  therefore,  not  to  confound  an  ob- 
scure faith  with  a  fluctuating,  unsettled,  ill- 
founded  faith.  They  are  two  things  perfectly 
distinct,  and  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  them 
too  carefully.  Tho  obscurity  of  which  we  are 
going  to  treat,  is  by  no  means  incompatible 
with  evidence. 

In  order  to  comprehend  it  fully,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  distinguish  two  species  of  evidence: 
evidence  of  the  object,  and  evidence  of  testi- 
mony. We  call  evidence  of  the  object,  that 
which  rests,  as  I  have  said,  either  on  the  depo- 
sition of  tho  senses,  or  on  tho  disccrmnent  of 
sound  reason.  I  believe  that  you  are  now  as- 
sembled within  the  walls  of  this  church:  I  be- 
lieve it,  because  I  sec  it  is  so.  The  evidence 
which  I  have  on  this  subject,  is  that  species  of 
evidence  which  I  have  denominated  evidence 
of  the  object,  and  which  is  founded  on  the  de- 
position of  the  senses.  In  like  manner,  I  be- 
lieve that  so  long  as  you  remain  within  these 
walls,  you  arc  not  in  your  own  habitations. 
The  evidence  which  I  have  to  support  this  be- 
lief, is  still  that  which  I  have  denominated  evi- 
dence of  the  object,  namely,  that  which  is  founded 
on  the  light  of  my  own  reason,  whereby  I  am 
assured,  in  a  manner  which  leaves  mo  not  the 
liberty  of  so  much  as  doubting,  that  so  long 
as  you  remain  within  this  temple,  you  cannot 
possibly  be  in  any  other  place. 

But  if  there  be  erndcnce  of  object,  there  is 
likewise  evidence  of  testimony.  1  Ijolievc  there 
is  a  vast  region  on  tho  globe,  called  tho  king- 
dom of  Persia.  I  have  evidence  to  support  this 
bolief:  not  tite  evidciue  of  object,  but  the  evidence 
of  testimony.  I  believe  that  there  is  such  a 
kingdom,  though  I  have  not  seen  it  with  my 
own  eyes:  but  there  is  such  a  cloud  of  witnesses, 
of  undoubted  credit,  who  assure  me  of  it,  tliat 
the  evidence  of  testimony  supplies  tho  evidence 
of  object.  In  like  manner,  I  believe  that  a 
vessel  of  such  or  such  a  construction,  and  of 
so  many  tons  burden,  requires  such  a  depth 
of  water.  I  believe  this,  not  because  my  rea- 
son has  by  its  own  powers  made  the  discovery, 
for  I  never  made  mechanism  of  this  kind  my 
study;  but  the  unanimous  deposition  of  all  who 
understand  the  art  of  shiji-building,  gives  mo 
full  assurance  of  the  fact,  fills  the  place  of  my 
own  intimate  i)erpei>tion,  and  the  evidence  of 
testimony  su])])lici>  tiio  evidence  of  object. 


Ser 


l\xiv.] 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


175 


Having  thus  explained  our  meaning,  wlicn 
we  say  tliat  faith  in  obscure,  wJien  we  say  tiiat 
tlie  Christian  holicvcs  what  he  sees  not,  wc  do 
not  by  tliis  understand  that  he  believes  in 
what  is  destitute  of  proof,  we  only  mean  that 
ho  behevcs  tlie  trutii  of  facts,  of  wliich  he  lias 
not  been  an  ey(!-\vitness,  that  he  bcheves  in 
trutiis  whicii  he  could  not  liavc  discovered  by 
his  own  reason,  and  that  lie  hopes  for  a  felicity 
of  which  he  has  not  a  distinct  idea:  hut  he  be- 
lieves those  facts,  on  the  unanimous  testimony 
of  a  g-reat  number  of  witnesses,  who  could  not 
possibly  have  acted  in  concert  to  deceive  him: 
lie  believes  those  truths  on  an  infallible  testi- 
mony: lie  hopes  on  that  same  testimony, 
namely,  on  the  word  of  God  himself.  In  all 
these  things,  the  evidence  of  testimony  supi)lies 
the  evidence  of  object. 

That  it  is  of  tliis  kind  of  faith,  we  are  to  un- 
derstand these  words  in  our  tc.vt,  "  Blessed  are 
they  who  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believ- 
ed," the  occasion  on  whicli  they  were  pro- 
nounced permits  us  not  to  doubt.  Of  what 
was  Jesus  Christ  sjieaking  to  Thomas?  Of  his 
own  resurrection.  Who  arc  the  persons  he 
had  in  view,  whom  Providence  was  afterward 
to  call  to  believe,  without  having  seen.'  Those 
who  could  not  possibly  bo  the  eye-witnesses  of 
that  resurrection,  lint  were  the  jicrsons,  who 
should  be  called  to  believe  the  doctrine  of  tlie 
resurrection,  to  believe  it  without  satisfying 
reasons  of  its  trutli  and  certainly.'  By  no 
means.  Call  to  your  recollection,  a  part  of 
what  we  submitted  to  your  consideration,  on 
this  subject,  upon  another  occasion.*  We 
have  in  confirmation  of  the  resurrection  of  Je- 
sus Cluist,  1.  Presumptions.  2.  Proofs.  3.  De- 
monstrations. 

I.  The  circumstances  of  the  death  of  the  Sa- 
viour, and  of  his  burial,  furnish  us  with  pre- 
sumptions on  this  subject.  Jesus  Christ  died: 
his  body  was  deposited  in  the  tomb;  but  a  few 
days  afterward  it  was  not  to  be  found  there. 
We  thence  presume  that  Jesus  Christ  is  risen 
again.  If  Jesus  Christ  be  not  risen,  his  body 
must  have  been  conveyed  away:  but  how  is  it 
possible  to  maintain  such  an  assertion.'  To 
whom  shall  we  impute  such  conveyance.'  Not 
surely  to  his  enemies.  Could  they  be  suspect- 
ed of  a  design  to  contribute  to  his  glory,  by 
giving  currency  to  the  report  of  his  resurrec- 
tion? It  can  as  little  be  imputed  to  his  disci- 
ples. They  had  no  inclination  to  do  so:  for 
how  could  men  so  notoriously  timid,  have 
formed  an  enterprise  so  daring  and  dangerous, 
and  that  in  favour  of  a  man  (I  go  on  the  sup- 
position that  Jesus  Christ  did  not  rise  again,) 
who  had  thus  abused  their  credulity?  But  had 
their  inclination  been  over  so  strong,  was  it  in 
their  power  either  to  surprise  or  to  discomfit  a 
guard  forewarned  of  the  design?  These  I  call 
jiremmplions. 

II.  The  testimony  of  the  apostles  furnishes 
us  with  proofs  of  the  resurrection.  This  tes- 
timony possesses  no  less  than  eight  distinct 
characters,  which  raise  it  beyond  the  reach  of 
all  suspicion:  1.  The  nature  of  the  witnesses, 
who  had  neither  the  credit,  nor  the  riches,  nor 
the  eloquence  necessary  to  practise  an  impos- 


*  The  render  is  rrfcrred  to  the  siinum  on  The  Re- 
surrection of  Jesus  C'hrut,  of  Rli.  Kobiusou's  SelecUoo. 


turo  on  mankind:  2.  The  number  of  those 
witnesses,  amounting  to  more  than  five  hun- 
dred: 3.  The  nature  of  the  facts  which  are  the 
subject  of  their  evidence,  things  in  which  it 
was  impossible  they  should  deceive  themselves, 
things  wliich  they  had  seen,  heard,  and  per- 
ceived in  the  most  sensible  and  palpable  man- 
ner: 4.  The  uniformity  of  their  testimony, 
which  in  no  one  instance  ever  contradicted  it- 
.self:  5.  The  judges  before  whom  their  evi- 
dence was  given;  judires  expert  in  the  art  of 
involving  cheats  in  self-contradiction,  but  who 
never  could  detect  any,  in  the  witnesses  of 
whom  we  arc  speaking:  6.  The  place  where 
their  testimony  was  jiublished;  for  had  the 
ajiostles  gone  and  published  the  resurrection 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  regions  remote  from  that 
where  the  fact  could  be  completely  sifted,  they 
might  have  fallen  under  suspicion;  but  they 
attest  it  to  the  face  of  the  whole  city  of  Jeru- 
salem itself:  7.  The  time  when  this  testimony 
was  published,  respecting  which  the  same  rea- 
soning applies  which  does  to  the  circumstance 
of  jilace:  8.  The  motives  by  which  those 
witnesses  were  actuated,  and  which  could  be 
no  other  but  the  satisfying  of  their  own  con- 
.sciences,  as,  so  far  from  having  a  temporal  in- 
terest to  promote,  by  the  publication  of  this 
event,  everj'  temporal  interest  pressed  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

But  we  have,  likewise,  of  this  truth,  demon- 
strations properly  so  called.     With  these  we 
are  furnished  in  the  miraculous  gifts  commu- 
nicated to  those  who  attest  it;  of  which  we 
cannot  entertain  any  doubt,  without   taxing 
with  extravagance  three  sorts  of  persons  equally 
clear  of  all  ground  of  suspicion  on  such  an  oc- 
casion: 1.  The  apostles,  who  gave  the  history 
of  those  miracles,  and  relate  in  a  manner  the 
best  adapted  to  expose  imposture,  on  the  sup- 
position of  their   having   been  impostors:    2. 
Their  enemies,  who  in  their  writings  against 
them,  have  not  denied  that  they  wrought  mi- 
racles, but  that  these  miracles  were  a  proof  of 
the  truth  of  their  doctrine:    3.  Finally,  their 
proselytes,  who  had  the  greatest  imaginable 
interest    in    examining  whether  it  were  true 
that  the  apostles  wrought  miracles,  who  had 
all  possible  opportunities  of  ascertaining  the 
fact,  and  who  sacrificed  their  property,  their 
reputation,  their  life,  for  a  religion  entirely 
resting  on  this  truth — The  apostles  work  mi- 
racles.   These  wc  call  so  many  demonstrations. 
This  recapitulation  sufliciently  instructs  us, 
that  we  are  not  called  upon  to  believe  an  event 
so  very  extraordinary,  as  if  it  were  destitute 
of  proof:    on  the  contrary,  we  believe  it  on 
proofs  clear,   cogent,   and    decisive.     When, 
therefore,  Jesus  Christ  says,  "  Blessed  are  they 
who  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed,"  he 
means  not  to  say,  that  it  is  blessed  to  believe 
things  destitute  of  evidence:  he  speaks  only  of 
things  which  have  not  the  evidence  of  object, 
but  whicli  have  that  of  testimony. 

Let  us  pursue  this  thought  a  little  farther. 
The  idea  which  we  have  suggested  of  obscure 
faith,  distinguishes  it  from  three  kinds  of  con- 
viction, which  are  but  tqo  frequently  con- 
founded with  it:  the  faith  extorted  by  tyranny; 
the  faith  generated  in  the  brain  of  the  enthusi- 
ast; and  the  lliith  of  the  superstitious. 

1.  The  liiith  of  which  we  speak,  must  be 


178 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


[Ser.  LXXIV. 


carefully  distinguislied  from  tho  faith  which  is 
extorted  by  tyranny.  Wo  do  not  here  under- 
stand that  which  violence  would  attempt  to 
produce  by  the  terror  of  punishment.  Never 
did  racks,  gibbets,  and  stakes,  jtroduce  in  the 
soul,  any  thing  like  conviction  in  favour  of  a 
religion  which  pretended  to  establish  itself  by 
arguments  so  odious  and  detestable.  But  there 
is  a  tyranny  of  a  different  kind,  which  has 
produced  believers  not  a  few.  By  dint  of  at- 
testing fictions,  men  have  forced  them  into 
credit:  by  dint  of  insolent  pretensions  to  infal- 
libility, the  simple  have  sometimes  been  pre- 
vailed upon  to  admit  it:  and  tho  simple  gene- 
rally constitute  the  bulk  of  mankind. 

We  denominate  that  the  faitk  extorted  by 
tyranny,  which  is  yielded  to  the  insolent  deci- 
sions of  a  doctor,  who  gives  himself  out  as  in- 
fallible, without  proving  it;  or  to  fabulous 
legends,  unsupported  by  any  respectable  testi- 
mony. How,  under  the  pretext  that  I  am 
bound  to  believe  facts,  which  I  may  never 
have  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  am  I  laid  under 
an  obligation  to  swallow  every  thing  that  a 
legendary  is  pleased  to  tell  me?  How,  under 
the  pretext  that  I  am  bound  to  believe  truths 
which  are  above  the  reach  of  my  reason,  am  I 
laid  under  an  obligation  to  believe  every  thing 
proposed  to  me  by  a  man,  who  may  be  practis- 
ing upon  my  credulity?  And  upon  my  refusing 
to  believe  on  such  a  foundation,  shall  I  be  tax- 
ed with  being  incredulous  like  Thomas,  and 
with  saying  as  he  did,  "Except  I  shall  see  in 
his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my 
finger  into  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my 
hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe!" 

If  you  would  have  me  believe  the  facts 
which  you  propose,  produce  me  the  proofs 
which  support  them,  if  not  as  complete  as 
those  which  assure  me  of  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ,  at  least,  such  as  are  somewhat  of 
a  similar  nature;  and  if  you  wish  I  should 
consider  you  as  infallible,  like  the  apostles, 
produce  me  proofs  of  your  infallibility,  equiva- 
lent to  those  which  the  apostles  produced  of 
theirs.  But  if  on  examining  such  pretended 
facts,  I  discover  that  they  are  fictions  merely; 
if  on  examining  the  foundation  upon  which 
your  infallibility  rests,  I  find  that  the  men  who 
gave  themselves  out  for  infallible,  while  they 
lay  claim  to  the  infallibility  of  the  apostles,  are 
undermining  tho  doctrine  of  the  apostles,  I 
shall  not  reckon  myself  obliged  to  pay  the 
slightest  deference  to  their  decisions.  The 
faith  which  these  decisions  attempt  to  produce, 
will  be  faith  extorted  by  tyranny,  and  which 
will  have  no  relation  whatever  to  that  faitii 
which  Jesus  Christ  expects  from  his  disciples, 
and  which  is,  in  truth,  obscure,  but  neverthe- 
less, well  founded;  which  is  destitute  indeed,  of 
the  evidence  of  object,  but  which  is  ever  ac- 
companied with  the  evidence  of  testimony. 

2.  In  the  second  place,  tho  faith,  of  which 
we  are  treating,  must  be  distinguished  from 
that  of  the  enthusiast;  I  mean  that  of  certain 
Christians,  who  found  the  reasons  which  in- 
duce them  to  believe,  entirely  on  such  and 
such  impulses,  which  they  pretend  to  be  the 
operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God:  impulses  des- 
titute of  illumination,  and  which  determine 
the  person  thus  agitated,  to  yield  his  assent  to 
a.  proposition  unsupported  by  proof,  or,  at  most, 


recommended  by  an  air  of  probability.  One 
of  the  marks  wiiich  distinguish  false  zeal  from 
true,  is,  that  this  last,  1  mean  true  zeal,  sacri- 
fices its  own  glory  to  that  of  religion,  and  is 
infinitely  better  pleased  to  acknowledge  its 
own  error,  than  to  spread  the  slightest  cloud 
over  that  pure  and  genial  light  in  which  reli- 
gion is  arrayed.  A  man,  on  the  contrary, 
who  is  actuated  by  a  false  zeal,  sacrifices  with- 
out hesitation,  the  glory  of  religion  to  his  own: 
and  maintains,  at  the  expense  of  truth  itself, 
the  errors  which  he  has  advanced. 

This  has  been  found  to  be  the  case  with  cer- 
tain eminent  names,  on  the  subject  of  our  pre- 
sent discussion.  The  vehemence  of  tlie  con- 
troversies which  have  been  carried  on,  re- 
specting the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on 
tlie  souls  of  believers,  has  frequently  carried 
some  of  the  disputants  farther  than  they  tliem- 
selves  intended.  In  the  heat  of  argumentation 
they  have  asserted,  that  the  action  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which  operates  in  the  faithful,  is  carried 
so  far  as  to  give  them  a  degree  of  faith,  su- 
perior to  the  reasons  which  they  have  for  be- 
lieving. When  pressed  by  their  adversaries, 
they  ought  to  have  acknowledged  this  to  be 
one  of  the  propositions  which  one  is  tempted 
to  advance  in  tho  warmth  of  dispute,  and 
which  candour,  without  hesitation,  is  disposed 
to  retract,  after  the  heat  is  subsided.  But  this 
were  a  sacrifice  too  great  for  self-love  to  make: 
it  is  deemed  better  that  religion  should  suffer 
from  the  intemperate  zeal  of  the  sophist,  than 
that  the  sopliist  should  correct  his  hasty  posi- 
tion, by  the  illumination  of  religion. 

Thus,  in  order  to  support  one  absurdity,  a 
still  greater  absurdity  has  been  advanced.  It 
has  been  maintained,  not  only  that  the  follow- 
ing proposition  is  true,  namely.  The  impulse 
of  the  Holy  Si)irit  gives  us  a  faith  superior  to 
the  reasons  which  we  have  for  bcUeving;  but 
this  is  absolutely  necessary;  for,  it  has  been 
alleged,  that  the  Christian  religion  being  desti- 
tute of  proofs  which  enforce  assent,  all  those 
who  should  refuse  to  believe  what  is  destitute 
of  this  kind  of  proof,  must,  in  so  doing,  refuse 
to  believe  the  Christian  religion. 

God  forbid  that  we  should  attempt  to  de- 
fend with  weapons  so  empoisoned,  the  truths 
of  religion!  It  was  not  thus  that  they  were  de- 
fended by  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles.  They 
called  on  men  to  believe,  but  they  at  tije  same 
time,  adduced  proof  of  what  they  wished  to  be 
received  as  the  object  of  faith.  The  Spirit  of 
God  undoubtedly,  operates  on  the  soul  of  every 
one  who  implores  his  assistance,  but  it  is  by 
making  them  feel  the  force  of  the  proofs,  not 
by  convincing  them  of  what  it  is  impossible  to 
prove.  And  who  could  be  condemned  for  not 
having  believed,  were  Christianity  destitute 
of  sufficient  proof?  would  not  the  infidel  be 
warranted  in  alleging:  "  I  am  not  to  blame,  if 
I  withhold  my  assent  to  such  a  proposition:  I 
do  not  feel  that  impulse  which  engages  one  to 
believe  what  cannot  be  proved?"  But  the  no- 
tion which  we  have  given  of  faith,  confounds 
every  one  who  refuses  to  believe.  Wo  say, 
with  Jesus  Christ  of  tiic  unbelievers  of  his  time: 
"  This  is  the  condenmation,  tiiat  light  is  come 
into  the  world,  and  men  loved  darkness  rather 
than  light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil,"  John 
iii.  19. 


Ser.  LXXIV.] 


OBSCURE  KAITH. 


177 


3.  Finally,  the  notion  which  we  liave  given 
of  faith,  distinguishes  it  from  that  of  the  super- 
stitions. To  believe,  in  the  view  of  doinç 
honour  to  religion,  a  doctrine  weakly  proved, 
whatever  may  be  the  origin  of  tl)at  doctrine, 
is  to  have  a  superstitious  faith.  Under  this 
description  may  be  ranked  what  has  been  de- 
nominated "faith  extorted  by  tyranny,  and 
faith  generated  in  the  brain  of  the  enthusiast." 
But  we  have,  under  this  particular,  a  different 
kind  of  superstition  in  view.  To  believe  a 
truth  completely  proved,  but  without  having 
examined  the  proofs  which  support  it,  is  to 
have  the  faith  of  superstition.  A  trutli  of  which 
I  perceive  not  the  proofs,  is  no  truth  will»  re- 
spect to  me.  What  renders  my  disposition  of 
soul  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God,  when  I 
receive  wliat  he  is  pleased  to  reveal  to  rnc,  is 
my  reception  of  it  as  an  intelligent  being,  after 
having  weighed  the  motives  which  induced  nie 
to  give  it  welcome;  after  having  discovered, 
on  putting  them  in  the  balance  with  the  oppo- 
site motives,  that  the  first  had  greatly  the  ])re- 
ponderancy  over  the  others.  But  to  believe  a 
truth  with  precipitation,  to  believe  it  without 
knowledge,  is  mere  superstition.  If  it  should 
determine  you  to  declare  yourself  on  the  .side 
of  truth,  it  must  be  entirely  by  chance,  and, 
which  may,  to-morrow,  plunge  you  into  error, 
as  it  induces  you,  to-day,  to  embrace  the  truth. 

Obscure  faith,  then,  is  not  a  persuasion  un- 
supported by  proof,  it  is,  in  truth,  destitute  of 
the  proofs  which  constitute  the  evidence  of  ob- 
ject; but  not  of  those  which  constitute  the  evi- 
dence of  testimony,  as  was  from  the  beginning 
affirmed,  and  which  it  was  necessary  oftener 
than  once  to  repeat. 

SERMON  LXXIV. 


OBSCURE  FAITH; 

OR, 

THE   BLESSEDJ^ESS   OF  BELIEVLVG, 
WITHOUT  HdVIJ^G  SEEJf. 

PART  II. 


John  xx.  29. 
Jestts  saith  unto  him,  Thomas,  because  thou  hast 

seen  me  thou  hast  believed:  blessed  are  they  that 

have  not  seen,  and  rjet  have  believed. 

We  have  endeavoured  to  explain  the  na- 
ture of  obscure  faith:  and  now  proceed,  as  was 
proposed, 

II.  To  point  out  the  excellency  of  this  ob- 
scure faith.  After  having  attempted  to  unfold 
the  ambiguity  of  the  expression  in  my  text, 
"to  believe  without  having  seen,"  wo  must 
endeavour  to  evince  the  truth  of  it,  by  demon- 
strating this  proposition,  announced  by  our 
blessed  Lord,  "  Blessed  are  they  who  have  not 
seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

These  words  admit  of  a  very  simple,  and 
very  natural  commentary,  which  we  shall  first 
produce,  in  order  to  explain  them.  The  point 
in  question  is  the  resurrection  of  the  Lord  Je- 
sus: Thomas  is  to  be  convinced  of  the  certain- 
ty of  it,  by  nothing  short  of  the  testimony  of 
bis  own  eyes:  this  mode  of  producing  convic- 
VoL.  II.— 23 


tion,  was  going,  henceforward,  to  cease.  Je- 
sus Christ  was  shortly  to  leave  the  world:  a 
cloud  was  soon  to  receive  liim  out  of  the  sight 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  earth:  "  The  heavens 
must  now  receive  him,  until  the  times  of  the 
restitution  of  all  things,"  Acts  iii.  21  The 
angels  had  declared  to  the  apostles,  as  they 
stood  rapt  in  astonishment  at  beholding  their 
beloved  Master  disappear:  "  This  same  Jesus, 
which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall 
so  come,  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him 
go  into  heaven,"  Acts  i.  11.  The  disposition 
of  Thomas's  mind,  therefore,  was  going  hence 
forth,  to  become  universally  fatal.  Every  one 
who  should  say  with  him,  "  except  I  shall  see 
in  his  hands  the  |)rint  of  the  nails,  and  put  my 
I  finger  intotiie  print  of  tlie  nails,  and  thrust  my 
hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe,"  must 
die  and  perish  in  unbelief  There  was  to  be, 
henceforward,  no  other  way  but  this,  of  believ- 
ing without  having  seen,  no  other  means  of 
arriving  at  a  participation  in  the  felicity  of  be- 
lievers: "  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me, 
thou  hast  believed:  blessed  are  they  tliat  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

This  commentary  contains  much  good  sense. 
It  does  not,  however,  seem  to  me  to  have  ex- 
hausted the  whole  meaning  of  Jesus  Christ. 
God  is  supremely  good:  nothing  appeared  to 
him  too  dear  for  the  salvation  of  the  human 
race:  he  has  made  choice  of  means  the  best 
adapted  to  the  execution  of  this  great  work. 
If  he  has  made  choice  of  means  the  best  adapt- 
ed to  the  salvation  of  the  human  race,  he  has 
likewise  made  choice  of  the  properest  method 
of  enabling  us  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  ap- 
pointed means,  and  that  method  is  obscure 
faith.  Why  so.'  This  is  the  point  which  we 
must  attempt  to  elucidate:  and  some  time  ago, 
you  will  please  to  recollect,  we  undertook  this 
task.  For  when  that  difficulty  was  urged 
against  us,  which  unbelievers  make  the  sub- 
ject of  their  triumph,  "  Wherefore  did  not  Je- 
sus Christ  show  himself  alive  after  his  passion, 
to  his  judges,  to  his  executioners.'"  We  made 
this  reply,  that  the  gift  of  working  miracles 
bestowed  on  the  apostles,  and  on  the  first 
Christians,  constituted  a  proof  more  irresistible 
of  his  resurrection,  than  if  he  had  shown  him- 
self then,  nay,  than  if  he  were  still  to  show 
himself  risen  at  this  day. 

It  might  be  retorted  upon  us,  "  That  these 
two  proofs,  tiiat  of  miracles  performed  by  his 
disciples,  and  tiiat  of  his  personal  manifesta- 
tion, were  not  incompatible  with  each  other" 
Jesus  Christ  might  first  have  shown  himself 
alive  after  his  resurrection;  here  would  have 
been  one  kind  of  proof:  he  might  afterward, 
upon  his  ascension,  have  sent  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  his  apostles;  this  would  have  constituted  a 
second  kind  of  proof  These  two  kinds  of 
proof  united,  would  have  placed  the  truth  of 
his  resurrection  far  beyond  the  reach  of  all  sus- 
picion. Wherefore  did  he  not  employ  tliem? 
Wherefore  did  he  not  give  to  a  truth  of  his 
religion  so  interesting,  and  of  such  capital  im- 
portance, every  species  of  proof  of  which  it  is 
susceptible?"  To  this  we  still  reply,  that  ob- 
scure faith  was  a  method  far  more  proper  to 
conduct  us  to  salvation  than  a  clear  faith, 
founded  on  tho  testimony  of  the  senses,  or  on 
the  personal  discoveries  of  the  believer  liim- 


178 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


[Ser.  LXXIV. 


self:  "Blessed  are  Uiey  that  have  not  seen, 
and  yet  have  beheved." 

A  principle  wliich  we  have,  on  other  occa- 
Bions,  laid  down,  will  justify  tliis  reply.  God 
has  placed  us  in  this  world,  as  in  a  place  of 
probation  and  sacrifice.  It  is  his  will  that  the 
manner  in  which  we  correspond  to  this  view 
of  his  Providence,  should  determine  our  ever- 
lasting destiny.  Let  us  try  clearly  to  explain 
this  principle,  before  we  apply  it  to  the  subject 
in  hand. 

In  strictness  of  speech,  God  will  not  pro- 
portion the  celestial  felicity,  which  he  reserves 
for  us,  to  the  exertions  which  we  make  to  at- 
tain it.  Did  God  observe  the  rules  of  an  exact 
distribution  in  this  respect,  there  is  not  a  single 
person  in  the  world,  who  durst  flatter  himself 
with  being  a  partaker  in  that  felicity:  because 
there  is  no  one,  I  speak  of  even  the  greatest 
saints,  who  does  all  that  lie  ought,  and  all  that 
he  might  do,  towards  the  attainment  of  it. 
Much  more,  supposing  us  to  have  done  all 
that  we  could,  and  all  that  we  ought  to  do,  to 
be  admitted  to  a  participation  in  this  blessed- 
ness, our  utmost  efforts  never  could  bear  any 
proportion  to  it.  We  must  still  say  of  every 
thing  we  undertake  in  order  to  salvation,  what 
St.  Paul  says  of  the  most  cruel  sufferings  of 
the  martyrs:  "  They  are  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed 
in  us,"  Rom.  viii.  18.  Tlie  most  extravagant 
thought,  accordingly,  that  ever  could  find  its 
way  into  the  mind  of  man,  is  that  of  the  per- 
sons who  maintain  the  possibility  of  meriting 
heaven  by  their  good  works,  nay,  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  man's  meriting  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  for  others,  after  having  earned  it  for 
himself. 

But  though  there  is  not  a  proportion  of  ri- 
gorous justice,  between  the  heavenly  felicity, 
and  the  efforts  which  we  make  to  attain  it, 
there  is  a  proportion  of  equity  and  of  establish- 
ment. Permit  me  to  explain  what  I  mean  by 
these  words:  God  will  not  save  mankind  unless 
they  exert  themselves  to  obtain  salvation. — 
Had  it  been  his  will  to  extend  indiscriminating 
favour,  he  had  only  to  open,  without  reserva- 
tion, the  path  to  heaven;  he  had  only  to  exert 
the  supreme  power,  which  he  possesses  over 
our  souls,  to  infuse  into  them  virtue  and  illumi- 
nation, and  to  put  us  in  possession  of  a  felicity 
already  completely  acquired,  without  subject- 
ing us  to  the  necessity  of  employing  indefatiga- 
ble and  unintermitting  efforts,  in  order  to  our 
acquiring  it.  But  his  views  respecting  man  are 
altogether  different  from  this.  Hence  it  is 
that  he  is  pleased  to  represent  tlie  life  of  a 
Christian,  as  a  narrow  path,  in  which  he  must 
walk;  as  a  race  which  he  must  run;  as  a  task 
which  he  must  perform;  as  a  warfare  which  he 
has  to  accomplisii.  For  this  reason  it  is,  that 
salvation  is  represented  to  us,  as  a  victory  to 
be  won,  as  a  prize  to  be  gained,  as  a  kingdom 
which  can  be  taken  only  by  the  violent.  God, 
then,  has  placed  us  in  this  world,  as  in  a  place 
of  probation  and  sacrifice:  it  is  his  sovereign 
good  pleasure,  tliat  the  manner  in  which  we 
correspond  to  his  gracious  views,  shall  decide 
our  everlasting  destination. 

Let  us  apply  this  principle  to  the  subject 
under  discussion;  to  that  obscure  faith,  which 
discerns,  in  the  darkness  of  the  past,  tliose 


facts  on  which  the  great  truths  of  religion 
rest,  as  the  building  on  its  foundation;  to  that 
obscure  faith,  wliich  penetrates  into  the  dark- 
ness of  futurity,  there  to  discover  the  blessed- 
ness which  religion  proposes  to  us  as  the  object 
of  hope. 

1.  Let  us  apply  the  principle  laid  down,  to 
that  obscure  faith,  which  discerns,  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  past,  those  facts  on  which  the  great 
truths  of  religion  rest.  There  is  more  diffi- 
culty in  attaining  a  discernment  of  the  truth 
through  the  darkness  of  the  past,  than  in  be- 
holding the  object  with  a  man's  own  eyes.  It 
is  admitted.  Had  Jesus  Christ  appeared  alive 
to  his  judges  and  executioners,  after  his  resur- 
rection: were  he  to  appear  to  us,  at  this  day, 
as  risen  from  the  dead,  we  should  have  much 
less  difficulty  in  believing  the  certainty  of  an 
event  on  which  tlie  whole  Christian  religion 
hinges.  It  is  admitted.  There  would  be 
no  occasion,  in  order  to  attain  the  convic- 
tion of  it,  to  employ  extensive  reading,  to  con- 
sult doctors,  to  surmount  the  trouble  of  pro- 
found meditation,  to  suspend  pleasure,  to  in- 
terrupt business.  It  is  admitted.  But  the  very 
thing  which  constitutes  your  objection  furnishes 
me  with  a  reply.  The  trouble  which  you  must 
take,  before  you  can  acquire  conviction  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  the 
extensive  reading  that  is  necessary,  the  consul- 
tation of  learned  men,  those  efforts  of  profound 
meditation  which  you  must  employ,  that  sus- 
pension of  your  pleasures,  that  interruption  of 
your  worldly  business — all,  all  enter  into  the 
plan  of  your  salvation:  it  is  the  will  of  God 
that  you  should  exert  yourselves  diligently  for 
the  attainment  of  it. 

Let  us  suppose  tlie  case  of  two  Christians: 
the  first  shall  be  St.  Thomas;  the  second  a 
Christian  of  our  own  days.  Let  us  suppose 
both  the  two  equally  convinced  of  the  resur- 
rection of  the  Saviour  of  the  world;  but  ac- 
quiring their  conviction  in  two  different  ways: 
Thomas  convinced  by  the  testimony  of  his 
senses;  the  modern  Christian,  by  the  attentive 
examination  of  the  proofs  which  establisli  the 
truth  of  it:  Whether  of  these  two  Christians, 
according  to  your  judgment,  expresses  the 
greater  love  of  the  truth.^  Whether  of  these 
two  Christians  makes  the  greatest  sacrifice  in 
order  to  arrive  "at  the  knowledge  of  it'  The 
one  has  only  to  open  his  eyes,  the  other  must 
enter  on  a  course  of  deep  and  serious  reflection. 
The  one  has  only  to  reach  forth  his  hand,  to 
touch  the  print  of  the  wounds  of  Jesus  Christ; 
the  other  must  e.xert  all  the  powers  of  his  mind, 
in  sifting  the  proofs,  on  which  the  doctrine  is 
established.  The  one  e.xpects  that  the  Saviour 
should  present  himself  to  him,  and  say,  "  Be 
not  faithless  but  believing,"  John  xx.  21.  The 
other  goes  forth  seeking  after  the  Lord  Jesus, 
througii  the  darkness  in  which  he  is  pleased  to 
involve  himself.  Is  it  not  evident  that  this 
last  expresses  incomparably  greater  love  for  the 
truth,  and  oflers  up  to  it  greater  sacrifices  than 
tile  firsL'  This  last,  then  corresponds  better  to 
tlie  idea  of  probation  and  sacrifice,  to  which 
wo  are  called,  during  the  time  which,  by  the 
will  of  God,  we  are  destined  to  pass  hi  this 
world.  Blessed  therefore,  with  respect  to  the 
obscurity  of  the  past,  "  blessed  is  he  who  has 
not  seen,  and  yet  has  believed." 


Ser.  LXXIV.] 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


179 


2.  The  same  principle  is  applicable  to  what 
concerns  the  niglit  of  futurity.  It  would  re- 
quire but  feeble  efforts,  and  would  exhibit  no 
mighty  sacrifice,  for  a  man  to  deny  himself  the 
delights  of  a  present  life,  if  the  joys  of  the 
paradise  of  God  were  disclosed  to  his  eyes. 

But  how  great  is  tlie  magnanimity  of  the 
Christian,  how  wonderful  the  fortitude  of  the 
martyr,  and,  in  propriety  of  speech,  all  Chris- 
tians are  martyrs,  who,  resting  on  the  promises 
of  God  alone,  immolates  to  the  desire  of  pos- 
sessing a  future  and  heavenly  felicity,  all  that 
is  dear  and  valuable  to  him  upon  the  earth? 
The  present,  usually,  makes  the  most  powerful 
impression  on  the  mind  of  man.  An  object, 
in  proportion  as  it  becomes  exceedingly  remote, 
in  some  measure  loses  its  reality  with  respect 
to  us.  The  impression  made  upon  the  mind  by 
sensible  things  engrosses  almost  its  whole  capa- 
city, and  leaves  little,  if  any  portion,  of  its  atten- 
tion, for  the  contemplation  of  abstract  truths. 
Farther,  when  abstract  meditations  dwell  on 
well  known  objects,  they  possibly  may  fix  atten- 
tion, but  when  they  turn  on  objects  of  which  we 
have  no  distinct  idea,  they  are  little  calculated 
to  arrest  and  impress.  j 

A  Christian,  a  man  actuated  by  that  obscure  | 
faith,  whose  excellency  we  are  endeavouring  | 
to  unfold,  surmounts  all  these  difficulties.     I  | 
«ee  neither  the  God  who  has  given  me  the  pro-  | 
mises  of  an  eternal  felicity:  nor  that  eternal  feli-  ) 
city  which  he  has  promised  me.    This  God  con-  j 
ceals  himself  from  my  view.     I  must  go  from  | 
principle  to  principle,  and  from  one  conclusion  | 
to  another,  in  order  to  attain  full  assurance  that  j 
he  is.     I  find  still  much  greater  difficulty  in  ac- 
quiring the  knowledge  of  what  he  is,  than  in 
rising  up  to  a  persuasion  of  his  existence.     The 
very  idea  of  an  infinite  Being  confounds  and 
overwhelms  me.     If  I  have  only  a  very  imper- 
fect idea  of  the  God  who  has  promised  me  eter- 
nal felicity,  I  know  still  less  wherein  that  felicity 
consists. 

I  am  told  of  a  "  spiritual  body,"  1  Cor.  xv. 
44:  a  body  glorious,  incorruptible:  I  am  told 
of  unknown  faculties;  of  an  unknown  state; 
of  an  unknown  economy:  I  am  told  of  "  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth;"  1  am  promised  the 
society  of  certain  spirits,  with  whom  I  have 
never  enjoyed  any  kind  of  intercourse;  1  am 
told  of  a  place  entirely  ditlcrent  from  that 
which  I  now  inhabit:  and  when  1  would  repre- 
sent to  myself  that  felicity  under  ideas  of  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  under  ideas  of  worldly 
magnificence,  I  am  told  that  this  felicity  has 
no  resemblance  to  any  of  these  things.  Ne- 
vertheless, on  the  word  of  this  God,  of  whom 
I  have  a  knowledge,  so  very  imperfect,  but 
whose  existence  and  perfections  are  so  certain, 
I  am  ready  to  sacrifice  every  thing,  for  a  feli- 
city of  wliich  I  have  a  still  more  imperfect 
knowledge  than  I  have  of  the  God  who  has 
promised  it  to  me. 

There  is  nothing  more  delightful  to  me,  than 
to  live  in  the  bosom  of  my  country  and  kin- 
dred: my  native  air  has  in  it  something  conge- 
nial to  my  constitution;  nevertheless,  were 
God  to  call  me  as  he  did  Abraham:  were  he 
to  say  to  me  in  the  words  which  ho  addressed 
to  that  patriarch;  "  Get  thee  out  of  thy  coun- 
try and  from  thy  kindred,  and  from  thy  father's 
house,"  Gen.  xii.  1.    1  will,  without  hesita- 


tion, obey:  I  will  depart,  without  delay,  for  the 
land  which  ho  shall  please  to  show  me. 

Nothing  can  be  more  delightful  to  me,  than 
the  possession  of  an  only  and  beloved  son:  no- 
thing appears  to  me  so  dreadful,  as  separation 
from  a  person  so  dear  to  me;  but,  above  all, 
there  is  nothing  which  inspires  so  much  horror, 
as  the  thought  of  plunging,  with  my  own 
hand,  the  dagger  into  his  bowels.  Nerverthe- 
less,  when  it  shall  please  God  to  say  to  me, 
"  Take  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son,  whom  thou 
lovest,  and  offer  him  for  a  burnt-offering,  upon 
one  of  the  mountains  which  I  will  tell  thee 
of,"  Cien.  xxii.  2,  I  will  take  that  son,  tliat  ob- 
ject of  my  tenderest  aflection,  that  centre  of 
my  desires,  and  of  my  complacency;  I  will 
bind  him;  I  will  stretch  him  out  upon  the  pile; 
I  will  lift  up  my  arm  to  pierce  his  side,  per- 
suaded that  the  favour  of  God  is  a  blessing, 
beyond  all  comparison,  more  precious  than  the 
possession  of  even  that  beloved  portion  of 
myself 

There  is  nothing  capable  of  more  agreeably 
flattering  my  ambition  and  self  love,  than  to 
talk  with  authority;  than  to  govern  a  whole 
world  with  despotic  sway:  than  to  rule  over 
the  nations,  wliich  look  up  to  their  sovereigns 
as  to  so  many  divinities;  nevertheless,  were  a 
competition  to  be  established  between  a  throne, 
a  crown,  and  the  blessedness  of  the  heavenly 
world,  I  would  "esteem  the  reproach  of  Christ 
greater  riches  than  the  treasures  in  Egypt:"  I 
would  "  choose  rather  to  suffer  affliction  with 
the  people  of  God,  tiian  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  sin  for  a  season,"  Heb.  xi.  25. 

There  is  nothing  to  which  my  nature  is  more 
reluctant,  than  the  suffering  of  violent  pain. 
The  idea  of  the  rack,  of  being  burnt  at  a  stake, 
makes  me  shudder.  I  am  convulsed  all  over 
at  sight  of  a  fellow-creature  exposed  to  torture 
of  this  kind.  What  would  it  be,  were  I  my- 
self called  to  endure  them?  Nevertheless,  the 
lofty  ideas  I  have  conceived  of  a  felicity  which 
I  have  not  seen,  will  elevate  even  me,  above 
the  feelings  of  sense  and  nature:  I  will  mount 
a  scaffold;  I  will  extend  myself  upon  the  pile 
which  is  to  reduce  me  to  ashes:  1  will  surren- 
der my  body  to  the  executioners  to  be  mangled; 
and  amidst  all  these  torments,  I  will  still  cry 
out  with  triumph,  "  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings 
of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed 
in  us,"  Rom.  viii.  18,  "  for  our  light  affliction, 
which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a 
far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glo- 
ry," 2  Cor.  iv.  n.  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  my 
strength,  which  teacheth  my  hands  to  war,  and 
my  fingers  to  fight,"  Ps.  cxliv.  1. 

I  ask,  my  brethren,  does  not  a  man  in  such 
circumstances,  correspond  incomparably  better 
to  the  idea  of  probation  and  sacrifice,  than  the 
person  who  should  behold  with  his  own  eyes, 
the  eternal  recompense  of  reward  which  God 
has  prepared  for  his  children?  The  proposition 
of  our  blessed  Lord,  therefore,  is  verified  with 
regard  to  periods  still  future,  as  with  regard  to 
periods  already  past.  The  vocation  of  the 
Cluistian,  then,  is  to  pierce  through  all  those 
clouds,  in  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  en- 
velop the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ:  the  voca- 
tion of  the  Christian  is  to  pierce  through  the 
obscurity  of  the  past,  and  the  obscurity  of  the 


180 


OBSCURE  FAITH. 


[Ser,  LXXIV. 


future;  it  is  to  make  study  to  supply  tlie  want 
of  experience,  and  hope  tlie  want  of  vision. 
*rhe  felicity  of  the  Christian  depends  on  the 
manner  in  which  he  corresponds  to  his  high 
vocation:  "  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me, 
thou  hast  believed:  blessed  are  they  that  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed."  This  was 
the  point  to  be  demonstrated. 

It  highly  concerns  us,  my  brethren,  to  fulfil 
this  twofold  engaçreinent,  and  tlnis  to  attain  at 
length,  supreme  felicity,  in  tlio  way  which  it 
has  pleased  God  to  trace  for  us.     Let  us, 

1.  Pierce  through  tlie  obscurity  of  the  past. 
Let  us  learn  to  make  study  siijjply  tlie  want 
of  experience.  Let  us  diligently  api)ly  our- 
selves to  acquire  the  knowledge  of  our  religion, 
by  seeking  after  assurance  of  the  truth  of  those 
facts,  on  which  it  is  established.  Of  these,  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  is  one  of  the  chief: 
for  "  if  Christ  be  not  risen,  then  is  our  preach- 
ing vain,  and  your  faith  is  also  vain, 

ye  are  yet  in  your  sins,"  1  Cor.  xv.  14.  17. 
But  thanks  be  to  Godj  this  fact,  of  such  capi- 
tal importance,  is  supported  by  proofs  wliich 
it  is  impossible  for  any  reasonable  man  to  resist. 
But  it  requires  a  considerable  degree  of  at- 
tention, of  serious  recollection,  to  study  these 
with  advantage.  To  this  study  there  must,  of 
necessity,  be  sacrificed  some  worldly  employ- 
ment, some  party  of  pleasure:  a  man  must 
sometimes  retire  into  his  closet,  and  get  the 
better  of  that  languor  which  deej)  thougiit,  and 
close  reading  naturally  produce.  But,  O  how 
nobly  is  he  rewarded  for  all  his  labour,  by  the 
copious  harvest  which  it  yields!  Wliat  delight 
in  discovering  that  God  has  proportioned  the 
weight  of  the  proofs  by  which  his  religion  is 
supported,  to  the  importance  of  each  of  its 
parts!  What  consolation  to  see  that  this  truth, 
"Jesus  Christ  is  risen,"  this  truth  which  gives 
us  the  a.ssiirance  that  God  has  accepted  the 
sacrifice  of  his  Son,  that  the  work  of  our  salva- 
tion is  accomplished,  that  access  to  the  throne 
of  grace  is  opened  to  us,  that  the  disorders  in- 
troduced by  sin  are  repaired!  \Vliat  consola- 
tion to  .see  that  a  truth  of  such  high  importance 
is  so  completely  ascertained,  and  that  so  many 
presumptions,  so  many  proofs,  so  many  demon- 
strations concur  in  establishing  it! 

What  satisfaction  is  it,  thus  to  transport  our- 
selves, in  thought,  into  the  apostolic  ages,  there 
to  contemplate  the  wonders  of  redemption! 
For  this  is  the  efl^cct  which  study  produces,  of 
those  exquisitely  cronrlusive  and  irresistible 
proofs  which  demonstrate  tlie  truth  of  this 
great  event:  it  transports  us  into  the  apostolic 
ages;  it  enables  us  to  behold  with  the  mind's 
eye  what  we  cannot  behold  with  the  eyes  of 
the  body.  After  having  thus  torn  up  incredu- 
lity by  the  roots,  with  what  an  ecstacy  of  holy 
delight  may  the  Christian  apjtroach  the  table 
of  the  Lord,  with  full  conviction  of  soul,  and 
say  to  him  with  Thoma-s:  "  My  iiord  and  my 
God."  'i'hc  heart-atlecting  jicrstia-sion  1  liave 
of  wliat  thy  love  has  done  for  me,  elevates, 
penetrates,  overwhthns  me.  It  will  render 
easy  to  me  the  most  painful  proofs  which  it 
may  plea.sc  thee  to  prcscribe  to  my  gratitude. 
"  My  Lord  and  my  God,  my  Lord  and  my 
God,  I  regret  all  the  time  1  have  devoted  to 
the  world  and  its  pleasures:  henceforward  1 
will  think  of  thee,  and  thee  only:  1  will  live  to 


thee,  and  thee  only.  Accept  the  dedication 
which  I  now  make.  Bear  with  the  weaknen 
in  which  it  is  made:  approve  the  sincerity  with 
which  1  this  day  come  to  break  off  the  re- 
maining attachments  which  fetter  me  down 
to  the  world;  and  to  bind  closer  those  of  my 
communion  with  thee,  the  only  worthy  object 
of  love  and  desire." 

How  blessed  shall  we  be,  my  beloved  bre- 
thren, in  thus  penetrating  through  the  obscuri- 
ty of  the  past!  "  Blessed  are  they  who  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

2.  But  let  us  likewise  penetrate  through 
the  darkness  of  futurity.  Let  hope  supply  to 
us  the  want  of  j)ossession.  How  shall  it,  hence- 
forward, be  possible  for  us  to  entertain  suspicion 
against  the  faithfulness  of  God's  promises'  Be- 
hold on  that  table  what  God  is  capable  of  do- 
ing in  our  behalf  Behold  by  what  miracles 
of  love — O  miracles  of  the  love  of  God,  we 
want  language  to  express  thee,  as  we  want 
ideas  to  conceive  thee!  but  behold  on  that 
table,  behold  by  what  miracles  of  love  he  has 
prevailed  to  make  us  the  rich  present  of  hiâ 
own  Son,  to  expose  him,  for  our  sakes,  to  all 
that  series  of  suflering  which  has  been  the  sub- 
ject of  our  meditation  during  the  weeks  which 
commemorate  the  passion. 

Is  it  possible  for  us  to  believe  that  a  God  so 
gracious  and  so  compassionate  could  have  cre- 
ated us  to  render  us  for  ever  miserable?  Is  it 
possible  to  believe  that  a  God  so  great,  and  so 
munificent  should  limit  his  bounty  towards  us, 
to  the  good  things  granted  us  here  below,  to 
that  air  which. we  breathe,  to  the  light  which 
illuminates  this  world,  to  the  aliments  which 
sustain  these  bodies?  Nay,  is  it  possible  for  us 
to  believe  that  he  should  permit  us  to  remain 
long  in  this  world,  exposed  to  so  many  public 
and  private  calamities;  to  war,  to  famine,  to 
mortality,  to  the  pestilence,  to  sickness,  to 
death?  Away  with  suspicions  so  injurious  to 
the  goodness  of  our  God.  "  He  that  spared 
not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for 
us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely 
give  us  all  things?"  Rom.  viii.  3-2.  Let  us  in- 
dulge ourselves  in  feasting  on  the  delicioiisness 
of  this  hope:  let  us  not  destroy  the  relish  of  it, 
by  wallosving  in  the  pleasures  of  sense:  let  us 
habituate  ourselves  to  pursue  happiness  in  a 
conviction  of  the  felicity  prepared  for  us  in 
another  world. 

This  hope,  it  is  true,  replenished  as  it  ia 
with  such  unspeakable  sweetness,  is  not  with- 
out a  mixture  of  bitterness.  It  is  a  hard  thing 
to  be  enabled  to  form  such  transporting  ideas 
of  a  felicity  placed  s.  ill  so  far  beyond  our  reach. 
"  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick,"  Prov. 
xiii.  12.  But  we  shall  not  be  suffered  to  lan- 
guish long.  "  For  yet  a  little  while,  and  he 
that  shall  come  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry," 
I  lei).  X.  i{".  Yet  a  few  short  moments  more, 
;ind  our  great  deliverer.  Death,  will  come  to 
our  relief.  Let  us  not  stand  aghast  at  his  ap- 
proach. It  is  not  becoming  in  Christians,  who 
cannot  attain  the  periuction  of  hapj)iness  till 
alter  death,  to  be  still  afraid  of  dying.  Let  us, 
on  the  contrary,  anticipate  the  hour  of  death, 
by  the  exercise  of  a  holy  ardour  and  7.eal.  Let 
us  look  for  it  with  submissive  impatience: 
"  Having  a  desire  to  dejiart,  and  to  be  with 
Christ,  which  is  far  better,"  Phil.  i.  23,  than 


Ser.  LXXV.] 


THE  BELIEVER  EXALTED,  &c. 


181 


any  thin»  we  can  possibly  enjoy  in  tliis  valley 
of  tears.  "  He  who  testifieth  these  thinn^s,  saith, 
surely  I  come  quickly:"  let  lis  rry  out,  in  re- 
turn, "  Amen.  Even  so,  eome,  Lord  Jesus," 
Rev.  xxii.  20.  Come,  Redeemer  of  my  soul: 
I  adore  thee  amidst  the  clouds  in  which  thou 
concealest  thyself:  but  vouchsafe  to  scatter 
them.  After  I  have  enjoyed  the  felicity  of  be- 
lievinfif,  without  having  seen,  let  me  likewise 
have  the  felicity  of  seeing  and  believing.  T^et 
mo  see  with  my  eyes  him  whom  my  soul  lov- 
eth:  let  me  contemplate  tiiat  sacred  side,  from 
whence  issue  so  many  streams  of  life  for  the 
wretched  posterity  of  Adam:  let  me  admire 
that  sacred  body  which  is  the  redemption  of  a 
lost  world:  let  me  embrace  that  .Tosns  who 
gave  himself  for  me;  and  let  me  behold  him, 
never,  never  to  lose  sight  of  him  more."  God, 
of  his  infinite  mercy,  grant  ns  all  this  grace. 
To  him  be  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXV. 


THE  BELIEVER  EXALTED  TOGETHER 
WITH  JESUS  CHRIST. 


PART  I. 

Ephesians  ii.  4 — G. 

God  \e}io  is  rich  in  merc\j,for  his  great  love  tvherc- 
wilh  he  loved  us,  even  ichen  we  vere  (lead  in 
sins,  hath  quickened  ws  together  with  Christ  (by 
grace  tje  are  saved,)  and  hath  raised  ns  up  to- 
gether, and  made  us  sit  together  in  licavenly 
places  in  Christ  Jesus. 

On  studying  the  history  of  the  lives  of  those 
eminent  saints  of  God,  whose  memory  Scrip- 
ture has  transmitted  to  us,  we  can  with  difH- 
culty  refrain  from  deploring  the  extreme  dif- 
ference which  God  has  been  pleased  to  make 
between  their  privileges  and  ours.  Nay,  we 
are  sometimes  disposed  to  flatter  ourselves, 
that  if  these  privileges  had  been  equal,  our  at- 
tainnvents  in  virtue  might  have  made  a  nearer 
approach  to  those  vvhich  liave  rendered  them 
60  respectable  in  the  church.  Who  would  not 
surmount  the  difficulties  of  the  most  painful 
career,  if  he  were  to  enjoy,  like  Moses,  inti- 
mate communications  with  Deity;  if  his  eyes 
were  strengthened  to  behold  that  awful  ma- 
jesty which  God  displayed  on  mount  Sinai? 
Who  could  retain  the  slightest  shadow  of  in- 
credulity, and  who  would  not  be  animated  to 
carry  the  gospel  of  Christ  to  the  uttermost 
boundaries  of  the  globe,  had  he,  like  Thomas, 
seen  the  I,ord  Jesus  after  his  resurrection;  had 
Jesus  Christ  said  to  hi(n,  as  he  said  to  that 
apostle:  "  Reach  hither  thy  finger,  and  he- 
hold  my  hands:  and  reach  hither  thy  hand,  and 
thrust  it  into  my  side:  and  be  not  faithless  but 
believing,"  John  xx.  27.  Who  could  remain 
still  swallowed  up  of  the  world,  had  he  seen, 
with  the  three  disciples,  Jesus  Christ  transfi- 
gured on  the  holy  mount;  or  had  he  been, 
with  St.  Paul,  "  caught  up  into  the  third  hea- 
ven, and  heard  unspeakable  words,  which  it  is 
not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter?"  2  Cor.  xii.  2.  4 
I  have  no  intention,  my  brethren,  to  inquire 
how  far  this  conception  may  be  illusory,  and 
bow  far  it  may  be  founded  in  truth:   but  I 


wish  you  attentively  to  listen  to  the  declara- 
tion made  by  the  apostle,  in  the  words  of  my 
te.vt.  They  stand  in  connexion  with  the  last 
verses  of  the  preceding  chapter.  St.  Paul  had 
advanced,  not  only  that  God  bestows  on  every 
believer,  the  same  privileges  in  substance, 
which  he  had  vouchsafed  to  saints  of  the  first 
order,  but  that  he  actually  works  in  them  the 
same  wonders  which  he  operated  in  Jesus 
Christ  when  he  restored  to  him  that  life  which 
he  had  laid  down  for  the  salvation  of  mankind, 
and  when,  amidst  the  acclamations  of  Die  church 
triumphant,  he  received  him  into  paradise. 

In  the  text,  our  ai)ostle  expresses  in  detail, 
what  he  had  before  proposed  in  more  general 
terms.  He  says,  that  as  Jesus  Christ,  when 
dead,  was  restored  to  life,  and  raised  from  the 
tomb;  in  like  manner  we,  who  "were  dead  in 
tres])asses  and  sins,"  have  been  "  quickened," 
and  "  raised  up,"  together  with  him:  and  that 
as  Jesus  Christ,  when  raised  up  from  the  dead, 
was  received  into  heaven,  and  "  seated  on  his 
Father's  right  hand,"  in  like  manner  we,  after 
our  sj)iritual  resurrection,  are  admitted  to  a 
l)articipation  of  the  same  glory.  Let  us  view 
these  two  texts  in  their  connexion,  in  order  to 
comprehend  the  full  extent  of  the  apostle's 
idea:  God,  as  we  read  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
preceding  chapter,  the  "  God  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  C^hrisl,  the  Father  of  glory,  has  displayed 
what  is  the  greatness  of  his  power  to  us-ward 
who  believe,  according  to  the  working  of  his 
mighty  power;  which  he  wrought  in  Christ, 
when  he  raised  him  from  the  dead,  and  set  him 
at  his  own  right  hand  in  the  heavenly  places, 
....  and  put  all  things  under  his  feet."  And 
in  the  words  of  the  text,  "  God  who  is  rich  in 
mercy,  for  his  great  love  wherewith  he  loved 
ns,  even  when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  hath 
quickened  us  together  with  Christ  (by  grace 
ye  are  saved,)  and  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in 
Christ  Jesus,"  Eph.  ii.  4 — 6. 

This  proposition,  I  acknowledge,  seems  to 
present  something  hyperbolical,  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  reconcile  to  the  strictness  of  truth:  but 
the  difficulties  which  prevent  our  comprehend- 
ing it,  do  not  so  much  affect  the  understanding 
as  the  heart.  It  would  be  much  more  intelli- 
gil)Io,  were  the  love  of  the  creature  less  pre- 
dominaîit  in  us,  and  did  it  less  encroach  upon 
tiie  feelings  necessary  to  our  perception  of  a 
trvith,  which  is  ahnosl  altogether  a  truth  of 
feeling.  We  should  accordingly,  have  been 
cautious  how  we  ventured  to  treat  such  a  sub- 
ject, at  our  ordinary  seasons  of  devotion;  but, 
on  this  day,  we  beJieve  all  things  possible  to 
your  pious  affections.  We  believe  that  there 
can  be  nothing  too  tender,  nothing  too  highly 
superior  to  sense,  on  a  solemnity,*  when  it  is 
to  be  presumed,  that,  with  the  apostles,  you 
are  "  looking  steadfiustly  towards  heaven,"  af- 
ter an  a.scending  Saviour,  that  you  are  follow- 
ing him  with  heart  and  mind,  and  saying, 
"  Draw  us.  Lord,  we  will  run  after  thee." 

Before  we  enter  farther  into  our  subject, 
there  are  a  few  advices  which  we  would  beg 
leave  to  sugnrest,  which  may  predispose  you 
more  clearly  to  comprehend  it. 

\.  Learn  to  distinguish  the  degrees  of  that 


'*  Ascension  Day. 


182 


THE  BELIEVER  EXALTED 


[Ser.  LXXV. 


disposition  of  mind,  which  our  apostle  is  de- 
scribing. He  represents  tlie  Christian  as  a  man 
on  whose  heart  divine  grace  has  made  impres- 
sions so  lively,  tliat  he  is  already  "  quickened," 
already  "  raised  up,"  already  "  made  to  sit  in 
heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus."  This  dispo- 
sition, in  whatever  it  may  consist,  (which  we 
shall  endeavour  presently  to  e.\])lain  with 
greater  precision,)  this  disposition  admits  of 
degrees;  I  mean  to  say,  that  it  is  possible  to  be 
a  Cliristian  not  only  in  name,  and  by  profes- 
sion, but  a  Christian  in  trutli  and  reality,  with- 
out having  as  yet  attained  it  in  the  most  emi- 
nent degree.  It  was  necessary  to  make  this 
observation,  by  way  of  prevention  of  a  mental 
malady,  as  commonly  to  be  met  with  in  these 
provinces  as  any  where  else. 

Certain  circumstances  peculiar  to  your- 
eelves,  have  constrained  your  preachers  fre- 
quently to  inculcate  the  doctrine  of  the  eth- 
cacy  of  divine  grace,  and  of  the  sentiment 
which  it  impresses  on  the  heart.  This  doc- 
trine has  sometimes  been  misunderstood.  Some 
have  considered  certain  rapturous  emotions, 
excited  in  the  souls  of  a  few  highly  favoured 
Christians,  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
a8  the  essential  character  of  Christianity.  It 
has  been  erroneously  supposed,  that  to  be 
destitute  of  these  was  to  be  abandoned  of 
God.  Hence  have  arisen  those  gloomy  and 
desponding  ideas  which  weak  minds  form  re- 
specting their  own  state,  especially  at  those 
seasons  when  the  Lord's  Supper  is  administer- 
ed. The  books  generally  read,  as  a  prepara- 
tion for  participating  in  this  solemn  service, 
tell  us,  that  it  is  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  in  a 
particular  manner,  the  communicant  experi- 
ences those  communications  of  the  fulness  of 
joy,  Ps.  xvi.  11,  "that  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory,"  1  Pet.  i.  8.  that  "peace  of  God 
which  pa&seth  all  understanding,"  Phil.  iv.  7, 
that  "  white  stone,  and  in  the  stone  a  new  name 
written,  which  no  man  knoweth  saving  lie  that 
receiveth  it,"  Rev.  ii.  IT,  that  anticipated  re- 
surrection, that  heaven  upon  earth. 

What  has  been  written  on  this  subject  is  lia- 
ble to  misconception  on  the  part  of  tiie  reader, 
as  it  may  have  been  expressed  with  too  much 
precision  by  tlie  composers  of  such  manuals  of 
devotion.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  tliat  real 
Christians,  who,  notwithstanding  the  inlperfec- 
tion  which  cleaves  to  their  best  services,  have 
most  sincerely  devoted  the  remainder  of  life  to 
God,  are  haunted  with  the  apprehension  of 
having  communicated  unworthily,  because 
they  are  not  conscious  of  having  felt,  at  the 
Lord's  table,  all  those  effects  of  the  presence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

To  Christians  of  this  description  it  is,  that  I 
address  my  first  advice,  that  they  distinguisli 
the  degrees  of  that  disposition  of  mind  of 
which  our  apostle  speaks  in  the  text.  A  man 
may  bo  quickened,  may  be  raised  up,  may  be 
made  to  sit  togctlier  with  Christ  Jesus  in  hea- 
venly places,  witlioiit  having  all  tlic  joy  whicii 
results  from  this  idessed  state.  The  most  in- 
fallible mark  of  our  being  made  partakers  in 
the  exaltation  of  the  Lord  .Icsus,  is  our  striving 
in  good  earnest,  to  fulfd  the  conditions  under 
which  that  parti(Mpation  is  promised  us.  Let 
UE  fortify  ourselves  in  this  disposition  of  mind, 
and  wait  patiently  till  it  shall  please  God  to 


smooth  the  difBcuIties  which  we  encounter  in 

this  work,  by  the  pleasure  derived  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  having  surmounted  them  in  part, 
and  by  the  assurance  which  we  have  of  at 
length  surmounting  them  altogether. 

2.  The  second  advice  which  I  presume  to 
suggest  is  this,  be  on  your  guard  agaitist  the 
love  of  the  marvellous.  It  is  far  from  being 
impossible  that  a  man  should  confound  the  e^ 
fects  of  an  imagination  heated  by  its  own  vi- 
sionary workings,  with  those  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  produces  in  a  soul  of  which  he  has  taken 
entire  possession.  A  person  animated  by  the 
spirit  of  God,  can  easily  distinguisli  his  state 
from  that  of  an  enthusiast:  but  the  enthusiast 
cannot  always  distinguish  his  state  from  that 
of  one  animated  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  In  ge- 
neral, the  road  of  discussion  is  incomparably 
more  sure  and  direct  to  reach  the  conscience, 
and  to  form  a  right  judgment  of  it,  than  the 
road  of  feeling.  I  know  that  there  are  certain 
feelings  superior  to  discussion.  I  know  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  sometimes  diffuses  his  influence 
through  the  soul,  in  such  abundance,  with  so 
much  fervour,  with  so  much  activity,  that  it  is 
not  possible  the  persons  thus  highly  favoured 
should  be  ignorant  that  they  are  the  objects  of 
his  tenderest  and  most  particular  care.  But  in 
order  to  our  being  warranted  to  promise  our- 
selves such  communications,  the  practice  of 
piety  must  have  been  carried  farther,  beyond 
all  comparison,  than  is  commonly  the  case 
with  most  of  those  who  flatter  themselves  that 
they  have  been  favoured  with  singular  commu- 
nications of  the  Spirit.  And,  once  more,  the 
method  of  discussion  is  by  much  the  surer,  to 
arrive  at  a  true  judgment  of  the  real  disposi- 
tions of  the  conscience,  than  the  test  of  feel- 
ing; in  wliich  the  temperament,  or  the  imagi- 
nation have  frequently  a  larger  share  than  real 
illumination. 

Weigh  in  the  balance  the  proofs  on  which 
the  ideas  you  have  formed  of  yourselves  are 
founded.  Compare  your  thoughts,  your  words, 
your  actions,  with  the  august  rules  and  deci- 
sions which  God  has  laid  down  in  his  holy 
word.  Regulate  your  hopes  and  your  fears, 
according  to  the  characters  which  you  may 
have  discovered  in  yourselves,  after  you  have 
studied  the  subject  in  this  maimer.  So  much 
for  the  second  advice,  which  I  thought  it  of 
importance  to  suggest. 

3.  Permit  me  to  subjoin  a  third.  Under 
pretence  of  guarding  against  the  reveries  of 
tlie  enthusiast,  and  against  the  love  of  the  mar- 
vellous, ])resume  not  to  call  in  question  certain 
extraordinary  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  neglect  not  the  means  of  obtaining  them. 
Dispute  not  with  saints  of  a  superior  order  what 
they  know  by  experience  to  be  real.  Presume 
not  to  establish  that  measure  of  grace  which 
you  may  have  received,  as  the  standard  for  de- 
termining that  which  God  is  pleased  to  grant 
to  persons  more  devoted  than  you  are  to  his 
service.  Form  not  your  judgment  from  the 
plt^asure  which  you  may  at  present  derive  from 
religion,  of  that  which  you  may  hereufler  en- 
joy, when  religion  shall  have  acquired  a  more 
powerful  influence  over  your  heart.  Be  not 
discouraged  by  the  dryness  and  discomfort 
which  you  may  now  find  in  the  practice  of  vir- 
tue; in  time  you  will  experience  it  to  be  a  pe- 


Ser.  LXXV.] 


TOGETHER  WITH  JESUS  CHRIST. 


183 


rennial  source  of  delight.  This  is  my  third 
advice. 

Having  premised  these  necessary  precau- 
tions, let  us  attempt  to  justify  tiie  idea  which 
is  here  given  us  of  liie  Cliristian.  Let  us  place 
in  contrast,  tlic  condition  in  which  he  was,  pre- 
vious to  liis  being  converted  to  (Christianity, 
and  tliat  wiiicli  he  has  attained  in  virtue  of  his 
having  become  a  Cliristian.  JJefore  he  em- 
braced the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  lie  was 
"dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  This  is  a  hgu- 
rative  expression,  denoting,  that  sinners  are  as 
incapable  of  themselves,  to  shake  otf  the  do- 
minion of  sin,  and  the  misery  inseparable  from 
it,  as  a  dead  person  is  to  defend  himself  against 
corruption,  and  to  restore  his  own  life.  Hut  by 
becoming  a  Christian,  the  believer  is,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  not  only  set  free  from  the 
dominion  of  sin,  but  is  put  in  possession  of  the 
highest  recompense  of  reward  that  justice  ever 
bestowed  on  the  most  perfect  virtue  which  ever 
existed,  namely,  that  of  Jesus  Clirist. 

If  "  never  man  spake  like  this  man,"  John 
vii.  46,  never  man  lived  and  acted  like  this 
man.  Accordingly,  never  was  there  a  man 
exalted  to  such  a  height  of  felicity  and  glory. 
Now  to  this  very  height  of  felicity  and  glory 
the  grace  of  God  exalts  the  Christian.  How? 
In  more  ways  than  we  are  able  to  indicate,  in 
the  time  now  left  us.  I  satisfy  myself  with 
pointing  out  three  of  these.  The  believer  is 
"  quickened,  he  is  raised  up,  he  is  made  to  sit 
together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus." 

I.  By  the  proofs  which  assure  him  of  the  ex- 
altation of  Jesus  Christ.  • 

II.  By  the  means  supplied  to  satisfy  him  that 
he  is  fulfilling  the  conditions  under  which  he 
may  promise  himself,  that  he  shall  become  a 
partaker  of  that  exaltation. 

III.  By  the  foretaste  which  he  now  enjoys 
of  it  on  the  earth. 

I.  By  the  proofs  wliich  assure  him  of  the  ex- 
altation of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  not  necessary 
here  to  detail  them  in  their  full  extent.  This 
has  been  already  done  on  former  occasions.* 
We  have  shown  you,  that,  in  support  of  the 
truth  of  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  (and 
the  same  reasonings  apply,  with  nearly  the 
same  force,  to  all  the  particulars  of  his  exalta- 
tion,) we  have  presumptions,  proofs,  demon- 
strations. But,  as  1  have  just  said,  it  is  not 
necessary  here  to  make  a  miimte  recapitula- 
tion. 

But  I  would  wish  to  unfold  under  this  head, 
the  true  causes  which  prevent  those  proofs,  ir- 
resistible as  they  are,  from  producing,  on  the 
mind  of  the  greater  part  of  Christians,  that 
lively  impression  which  would  justify  the  hy- 
perbolical language  employed  by  our  apostle, 
that  Christians  have  a  conviction  as  complete 
of  the  truth  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus  Christ, 
as  if  they  had  been  "  quickened,"  as  if  they 
had  been  "raised  up,"  as  if  they  were  "made 
to  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Je- 
sus." The  following  are  the  principal  causes 
of  this  sore  evil. 

I.  The  proofs  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus 
Christ,  do  not  produce  impressions  so  lively  as 
they  ought,  from  the  abuse  of  a  distinction 

*  Consult  the  Sermon  on  Christ's  Reswrrection,  of  Mr. 
Robinion's  selection. 


between  mathemalical  evidence,  and  moral  evi- 
dence. A  scruple  in  point  of  precision,  hsM 
given  rise  to  this  distinction.  We  call  that 
mathematical  evidence,  which  is  founded  on  the 
clear  idea  of  a  subject.  I  have  a  clear  idea  of 
two  even  numbers.  This  proposition,  from  the 
addition  of  two  even  numbers,  there  results  an 
even  immber,  is  founded  upon  an  evidence 
which  arises  from  the  clear  idea  of  that  num- 
ber. That  is  called  moral  eindence,  which  is 
founded  on  testimony  worthy  of  credit.  I 
have,  naturally,  no  idea  of  the  city  of  Con- 
stantinople. 1  can  decide  the  question  of  its 
existence,  only  upon  testimony  of  a  certain 
kind.  This  distinction  is  undoubtedly  a  real 
one.  But  it  is  making  a  strange  abuse  of  it  to 
pretend,  that  what  is  founded  on  the  evidence 
denominated  moral  is  not  so  certain  as  that 
which  is  founded  on  what  is  denominated  ma- 
thematical evidence.  Two  reasons  persuade  me 
of  this,  which  I  submit  to  your  consideration. 

1.  It  involves  no  less  contradiction,  that  a 
complex  concurrence  of  circumstances  should 
unite  with  respect  to  a  false  testimony,  than 
that  there  should  be  falsehood  in  a  consequence 
deduced  immediately  from  the  nature  of  a  sub- 
ject. It  involves  no  less  contradiction  to  affirm, 
that  all  the  witnesses,  who  assure  me  there  is  a 
city  called  Constantinople,  have  agreed  to  im- 
pose upon  me,  that  it  involves  a  contradiction 
to  allege,  that  this  proposition  is  illusory,  from 
the  addition  of  two  even  numbers  there  results 
an  even  number. 

2.  The  second  reason  is  still  more  forcible. 
It  is  taken  from  the  nature  of  God  himself. 
We  have  mathematical  evidence  for  this,  that 
God  cannot  take  pleasure  in  leading  men  into 
error.  But  God  would  take  pleasure  in  lead- 
ing men  into  error,  if  after  having  made  the 
truth  of  their  religion  to  rest  on  the  existence 
of  certain  facts,  which  are  susceptible  only  of 
proofs  of  fact,  he  had  bestowed  on  imaginary 
facts,  the  same  characters  of  truth  which  he 
has  impressed  on  such  as  are  real.  The  truth 
of  our  religion  is  founded  on  these  facts:  Jesus 
Christ  is  risen,  and  has  ascended  into  heaven: 
but  this  exaltation  is  supported  by  all  tlie  evi- 
dence of  which  facts  are  susceptible.  If  the 
exaltation  of  Jesus  Christ  is  merely  imaginary, 
God  has  permitted  imaginary  facts  to  assume 
all  the  evidence  of  real  facts.  God,  therefore, 
betrays  him  into  error.  But  we  have  mathe- 
matical evidence  that  it  is  impossible  for  God 
to  betray  men  into  error.  It  is  clear,  therefore, 
as  I  think,  that  moral  evidence,  when  carried 
to  a  certain  degree,  ought  to  be  ranked  in  the 
same  class  with  mathematical  evidence.  The 
truth  of  tlie  resurrection  of  tlie  Lord  Jesus, 
therefore,  will  not  produce  the  lively  impres- 
sions which  we  have  mentioned,  so  long  as 
men  abuse,  which  is  the  case  with  certain 
philosophers,  the  distinction  between  moral 
evidence,  and  mathematical  evidence. 

2.  The  proofs  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus 
Christ  produce  not  impressions  so  lively  as 
they  ought,  because  the  mind  is  imder  the  in- 
fluence of  a  prejudice,  unworthy  of  a  real  phi- 
losopher, namely,  that  moral  evidence  changes 
its  nature,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  things 
to  which  it  is  applied.  What  is  demonstration 
of  a  fact,  which  is  in  the  sphere  of  natural 
thingSj  seems  to  cease  to  be  such  respecting 


184 


THE  BELIEVER  EXALTED,  &c. 


[Ser.  LXXV. 


facte  of  a  supernatural  kind.  A  certain  epe- 
cies  of  proof  will  bo  sutficieut  to  dcinoiislrate 
Uiat  Cesar  existed:  and  that  same  species  of 
proof  siiall  be  deemed  insutiicicnt  to  ascertain 
that  Moses  existed.  What  a  Blranwe  disposi- 
tion of  mind!  The  truth  of  a  fact,  which  does 
not  in  itself  imply  a  contradiction,  depends  not 
on  the  nature  of  that  fact,  but  on  the  proofs 
by  which  it  is  supported. 

1  am  ready  to  admit,  that  stronger  proof 
will  be  expected,  in  order  to  produce  belief  of 
extraordinary  events,  than  is  necessary  to  esta- 
blish the  truth  of  what  happens  every  day;  to 
produce  belief,  for  instance,  that  a  great  scho- 
lar is  humble,  calls  for  stronger  proof  than  that 
he  is  vain;  to  produce  belief,  that  a  friend  is 
as  faithful  in  adversity  as  he  was  in  prosperity, 
than  that  he  is  less  so.  But  what  is  evidence 
with  respect  to  ordinary  facts,  is  likewise  so 
with  respect  to  such  as  are  extraordinary. 
What  is  evidence  witii  respect  to  natural 
things,  is  likewise  so  with  respect  to  such  as 
are  supernatural.  Nothing  more  unreasona- 
ble can  be  conceived  tlian  the  disposition  ex- 
pressed by  the  apostle  Thomas.  All  the  mem- 
bers of  the  apostolic  college,  unanimously  as- 
sure him  that  Jesus  Christ  is  risen  from  the 
dead.  They  adduce  this  proof  of  it,  that  they 
had  beheld  him  with  tiieir  own  eyes.  No, 
says  he,  "except  I  see  in  his  hands  the  print 
of  the  nails,  and  put  my  fingers  into  the  print 
of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his  side, 
I  will  not  believe,"  John  xx.  :;i5.  Wherefore 
does  that  which  would  have  been  evidence  to 
him  on  another  occasion,  cease  to  be  so  on 
this?  It  is  because  the  matter  in  question  is 
something  supernatural.  But  the  question  is 
not,  whether  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ 
be  within  the  sphere  of  natural  things,  but 
whether  it  is  founded  on  proofs  sufficient  to 
constitute  satisfying  evidence. 

3.  The  proofs  of  the  exaltation  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  produce  not  impressions  sufficiently  live- 
ly, because  the  necessary  discrimination  has  not 
been  employed  in  the  selection  of  tlioso  proofs, 
on  which  some  have  pretended  to  establish  it. 
This  remark  has  a  reference  to  certain  of  tlie 
learned,  who  imagined  that  they  were  render- 
ing essential  service  to  the  church,  when  they 
multiplied  proofs,  with  an  indiscreet  zeal,  and 
produced  every  thing  which  they  deemed  fa- 
vourable to  the  Christian  religion.  Fraud,  fair 
dealing,  all,  all  appeared  equal  in  their  eyes, 
provided  it  would  contribute  to  this  end. 
Wretched  method!  Why  was  it  not  confined 
to  the  propagators  of  falsehood;  and  why  has  ' 
it  been  so  frequently  adopted  by  the  partisans 
of  truth!  I  pretend  not  to  determine  whether 
there  bo  much  solidity  in  the  idea  of  some  wiio 
have  alleged,  that  the  reason  why  Jesus  Christ 
so  strictly  prohibited  the  demons  to  publish 
that  he  was  the  Messiah,  was  an  apprehension 
that  a  testimony  borne  to  his  mission  by  lying 
spirits,  migiit  render  the  truth  of  it  suspected. 
But  1  am  well  assured  that  if  any  thing  could 
have  excited  a  suspicion  in  my  mind  unfa- 
vourable to  the  exaltation  of  tiie  Son  of  God, 
it  would  have  boon  tliat  medley  of  proofs, 
solid  and  without  foundation,  which  we  find  in 
the  writings  of  certain  ancient  doctors  of  the 
church  on  this  subject.  No  one  will  ever  at-  | 
tain  to  a.  complcto  conviction  of  the  exaltation  I 


of  Jesus  Christ,  so  long  as  he  neglects  to  dis- 
criminate the  j)roofs  on  which  the  truth  of  it 
rests.  The  discovery  of  the  slightest  falsehood 
in  those  which  wo  had  believed  to  be  true, 
will  go  far  towards  invalidating  the  proof  of 
those  which  wo  had  good  reason  to  believe 
founded  in  truth. 

4.  The  proofs  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus 
Christ  produce  not  impressions  sufficiently 
lively,  because  we  are  too  deeply  affected  by 
our  inability  to  resolve  certain  questions,  which 
the  enemies  of  religion  are  accustomed  to  put, 
on  some  circumstances  relative  to  that  event. 
The  evangelists  have  recorded  all  those  which 
are  necessary  to  convince  us  of  the  truth  of  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ.  Their  silence 
respecting  circumstances  of  another  kind,  and 
our  inability  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  those 
who  insist  upon  them,  present  nothing  to  ex- 
cite suspicion  against  the  fidelity  of  their  nar- 
ration. They  do  not  tell  us,  for  example,  wiml 
Jesus  Christ  did  immediately  after  hrs  resur- 
rection, and  before  his  appearing  to  the  devout 
women,  and  to  the  apostles.  They  do  not  tell 
us  what  he  did  during  the  forty  days  which  he 
passed  upon  the  earth  before  his  ascension. 
They  do  not  tell  us  to  whom  those  dead  per- 
sons appeared,  who  came  into  the  holy  city  to 
attest  his  resurrection,  nor  what  became  of 
them  after  their  apparition.  The  Holy  Spirit, 
perhaps,  was  not  pleased  to  reveal  such  things 
to  those  inspired  men.  Perhaps  they  did  not 
think  proper  to  declare  them,  though  they 
might  have  had  perfect  information  on  the  sub- 
ject. But  is  there  any  thing  in  this,  to  invali- 
date the  proofs  on  which  the  truth  of  the  re- 
surrection of  Jesus  Christ  is  founded.'  Is  there 
any  one  ancient  history,  I  say  any  one  without 
exception,  tiiat  goes  into  a  certain  detail  of  cir- 
cumstances.' Are  we  acquainted  with  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  life  of  Alexander,  or  of 
Darius?  Does  our  ignorance  respecting  such 
and  such  particulars  suggest  a  doubt  whether 
those  persons  ever  existed?  Do  we  know  all 
the  circumstances  attending  the  battle  of  Can- 
nae, and  that  of  Pharsalia.  Does  our  igno- 
rance of  these  suggest  a  doubt  whether  such 
battles  were  actually  fought?  Is  it  fair  to  pre- 
scribe to  tlie  sacred  authors  rules  which  we 
readily  dispense  with  in  the  case  of  profane 
authors? 

5.  The  proofs  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus 
Christ  produce  not  impressions  suflSciently 
lively,  because  we  suffer  ourselves  to  be  inti- 
midated more  than  we  ought,  by  the  compari- 
son instituted  between  them  and  certain  popu- 
lar rumours,  which  have  no  better  support 
than  the  caprice  of  the  persons  who  propagate 
them.  Unbelievers  tell  us  that  the  multitude 
is  credulous,  that  it  is  ever  disposed  to  be  prac- 
tised upon  by  impostures,  from  the  idea  of  the 
marvellous.  They  accumulate  all  those  noted 
instances  of  credulity  which  ancient  and  mo- 
dern history  abundanily  supply,  for  it  costa 
very  little  trouble  indeed,  to  make  the  collec- 
tion ample.  They  avail  themselves  of  those 
instances  to  invalidate  the  argument  which  we 
adduce  from  the  unanimity  of  that  testimony 
which  evinces  the  truth  of  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ.  But  let  them  show  us,  among 
what  they  call  "  popular  rumours,"  let  them 
show  us  among  these  any  thing  of  the  same 


Ser.  lxxv.]  the  christian  a  partaker  in,  &c. 


kind  with  those  which  wo  have  produced:  and 
tlien  we  sliall  feel  ourselves  called  upon  to  de- 
fend, in  another  way,  the  doctrine  in  (piestion. 
But  under  the  pretext  that  mankind  is  cre- 
dulous, obstinately  to  resist  tlie  force  of  proofs 
which  have  been  admitted  by  judges  the  most 
rigid  and  acute,  is  wilfully  to  sliut  the  eyes 
against  the  truth. 

6.  Finally,  the  proofs  of  the  truth  of  the  ex- 
altation of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Haviour,  pro- 
duce not  impressions  sufficiently  lively,  because 
they  are  not  sufhciently  known.  The  preced- 
ing particulars  chiefly  relate  to  the  learned, 
and  the  philosophic  part  of  mankind,  of  whom 
the  number,  undoubtedly,  is  on  comparison 
very  inconsiderable.  This  relates  to  tiie  mul- 
titude, of  which  the  far  greater  part  of  our 
audiences  is  composed.  I  am  well  aware  that 
those  proofs  have  been  carried  farther  in  the 
present  age,  than  ever  iiad  been  done,  perhaps, 
since  the  days  of  the  apostles.  I  have  oftener 
than  once,  adored  the  conduct  of  divine  Pro- 
vidence, in  that  the  objections  of  unbelievers, 
of  which  it  may  likewise  bo  affirmed,  tliat  they 
have  been  carried  farther  in  the  present  age, 
than  they  had  been  since  the  times  of  the  ear- 
liest antagonists  of  the  Christian  religion:  I 
have  oftener  than  once,  I  say,  adored  the  con- 
duct of  divine  Providence,  in  that  those  objec- 
tions have  furnished  occasion  to  scrutinize  the 
proofs  of  the  facts,  on  which  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity rests. 

In  proportion  as  events  are  more  remote,  the 
more  difficult  it  becomes  to  ascertain  them.  If 
the  spirit  of  superstition  and  blind  credulity 
had  continued  to  be  the  reigning  folly  of  man- 
kind, men  would  have  neglected  to  study  the 
proofs  of  the  facts  of  which  I  have  been  speak- 
ing, and  we  should  have  had  in  later  ages, 
much  greater  trouble  in  demonstrating  the 
truth  of  them.  But  infidelity  is  the  reigning 
folly  of  the  age  in  which  we  live,  and  has,  as 
it  were,  succeeded  the  spirit  of  superstition  and 
blind  credulity,  the  reigning  folly  of  ages  past. 
Now  Providence  has  so  ordered  the  course  of 
things,  that  this  very  infidelity  should  prove 
the  occasion  of  placing,  in  their  clearest  point 
of  light,  those  illustrious  proofs  which  we  have 
of  the  facts,  whereon  the  Christian  religion  is 
founded.  But  though  they  have  been  stated 
with  so  much  clearness  and  precision,  it  is  un- 
doubtedly certain  that  they  are  not  hitherto 
sufficiently  known  by  the  generality  of  pro- 
fessing Christians. 

Would  you  be  thoroughly  convinced  of  the 
exaltation  of  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  devote 
to  the  study,  which  I  am  recommending,  a 
part,  I  do  not  say  only  of  that  time  which  you 
so  liberally  bestow  on  the  world  and  its  plea- 
sures, but  a  part  of  even  that  which  you  have 
thrown  away  upon  useless  controversies,  on  the 
speculative  questions,  and  the  bold  researches, 
with  which  most  books,  on  the  subject  of  reli- 
gion, are  filled.  Let  the  mind  be  deeply  im- 
pressed with  that  series  of  presumptions,  of 
arguments,  of  demonstrations,  of  which  the 
resurrection,  and  the  other  particulars  of  the 
exaltation  of  the  Son  of  God  are  susceptible. 
Do  all  diligence  to  discern  the  whole  evidence 
of  those  facts,  witliout  wliich,  to  use  the  apos- 
tle's e.\pression,  "  your  faith  is  vain,  and  oiu: 
preaching  also  is  vain,"  1  Cor.  .\v.  14.  Then 
Vol.  11.— 24 


185 

you  will  perceive,  that  the  truth  of  the  exalta- 
tion of  the  Saviour  is  founded  upon  proofs, 
which  it  is  impossible  for  any  reasonable  man 
to  resist.  You  will  be,  in  some  measure,  as 
much  convinced  that  he  is  raised  up  from  the 
dead,  and  ascended  into  heaven,  as  if  you  had 
seen  him  with  your  own  eyes  bursting  asunder 
the  bars  of  the  grave,  and  assuming  his  seat  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  P^ather:  you  will  be  in 
this  first  sense,  "  quickened  together  with 
C'hrist,  and  raised  up,  and  made  to  sit  together 
in  heavenly  places  with  him." 


SERMON  LXXV. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  A  PARTAKER  IN 
THE  EXALTATION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

PART  II. 


Ephesians  ii.  4 — 6. 

God  viho  is  rich  in  mercy,  for  his  great  love  where- 
with lie  loved  us,  even  when  we  were  dead  in 
sins,  hath  quickened  us  together  with  Christ 
(by  grace  ye  are  saved,)  aiul  hath  raised  us  up 
together,  and  made  t«  sit  together  in  heavenly 
places  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Having  given  a  few  preliminary  advices 
relative  to  my  subject,  I  went  on  to  justify  the 
accuracy  of  the  apostle's  idea,  by  showing,  that 
the  Christian  is  "  quickened,  raised  up,  seated 
in  heavenly  places,  togetiier  with  Christ." 

I.  By  the  reasons  which  persuade  him  of 
the  certainty  of  the  exaltation  of  Jesus  Christ. 
I  now  proceed  to  justify  St.  Paul's  idea  by 
showing, 

II.  The  Christian's  participation  in  the 
glory  of  Jesus  Christ,  by  the  means  with 
which  he  is  furnished  of  knowing  himself,  and 
of  attaining  assurance  that  he  is  fulfilling  the 
conditions  under  which  he  is  enabled  to  pro- 
mise himself  an  interest  in  that  exaltation.  I 
do  not  mean  to  insinuate,  that  this  knowledge 
is  of  easy  attainment.  I  maintain,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  it  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  which 
can  be  proposed  to  man.  And  without  enter- 
ing here  into  a  detail  of  the  reasons  which 
evince  the  difficulty  of  it,  it  is  sufficient  for  me 
to  adduce  a  single  one;  it  is  the  smallness  of 
the  number  of  those  who  know  themselves. 
The  judgments  which  men  form  of  their  own 
character,  is  an  ine.xhaustible  source  of  ridi- 
cule. The  world  is  crowded  with  people  to- 
tally blind,  especially  where  they  themselves 
are  concerned. 

What  illusions  do  they  practise  upon  them- 
selves, with  respect  to  the  body!  How  many 
are  there  whom  Nature  has  sadly  degraded  in 
point  of  person:  forms  which  you  would  say 
were  only  blocked  out,  and  of  which,  if  I  may 
use  the  expression,  God  seems  to  have  erected 
only  the  first  scaffiDldings,  conceive  of  them- 
selves ideas  directly  opposite  to  tJie  truth. 
Talk  of  the  corporeal  qualities  of  such  and 
such  persons,  and  they  will  be  among  the  first 
to  make  them  an  object  of  derision,  and  dis- 
cover this  to  be  too  slim,  that  to  be  too  gross; 
falling  foul  of  the  whole  human  race,  and 
showing  tenderness  to  no  one  but  themselves. 
If  we  are  thus  subject  to  blindness,  where 


186 


THE  CHRISTIAN  A  PARTAKER  IN 


[Ser.  LXXV. 


things  sensible,  palpable,  are  concerned,  how 
muen  greater  must  be  tiie  danjrer,  where  mat- 
ters of  a  very  different  complexion  address 
tliemselves  to  our  self  love. 

We  practise  illusion  upon  ourselves,  on  the 
score  of  our  undcrstaiuiiiig.  How  many  ig- 
norant,  dull,  stu|)id  people  betray  a  conceit 
that  they  are  intelligent  philosophers,  profound 
politicians;  that  they  possess  a  judgment  ac- 
curate, enlightened,  uncommon;  and  are  so 
powerfully  prepossessed  with  the  belief  of  this, 
that  the  combined  universe  could  not  drive 
them  out  of  it.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that 
they  are  for  ever  taking  the  lead  in  society, 
exacting  attention,  courting  admiration,  pro- 
nouncing, deciding  peremptorily,  and  seeming 
to  say  at  every  turn,  am  not  I  a  most  extraor- 
dinary personage.''  But  you  have  never  had 
the  advantage  of  a  course  of  education,  or  of 
regular  study.  No  matter;  talents  supply  every 
deficiency.  But  no  one  presents  incense  to 
you,  yourself  only  excepted.  Still  it  signifies 
nothing:  it  is  the  wretched  taste  of  the  present 
zige.  But  you  are  actually  a  laughing-stock 
to  mankind.  No  matter  still:  it  has  always 
been  the  lot  of  great  men  to  be  the  object  of 
envy  and  calumny. 

We  practise  illusion  upon  ourselves  in  fa- 
vour of  our  heart.  Should  you  chance  to  be 
in  a  circle  of  slanderers,  and  bear  your  testi- 
mony against  slander,  the  whole  company  will 
instantly  take  your  side.  The  most  criminal 
will  endeavour  to  pass  for  the  most  innocent. 
They  will  tell  you  that  it  is  the  most  odious, 
abominable,  execrable  of  vices.  They  will 
tell  you  that  the  severest  punisluncnts  ought 
to  be  adjudged  against  the  ofiender,  that  he 
ought  to  be  excluded  from  all  human  society. 
And  the  very  persons  who  are  themselves  ac- 
tuated by  tliis  detestable  passion,  who  are 
themselves  diftusing  the  baleful  poison  of  their 
malignity,  apprehend  not  that  they  are,  in  tlie 
slightest  degree,  chargeable  with  such  a  vice. 
Have  you  no  knowledge,  my  brethren,  of  such 
a  portrait'  Have  I  been  depicting  to  you 
manners  which  have  no  existence  in  real  life? 
If  there  be  any  among  you  incapable  of  dis- 
covering himself  under  such  similitudes  as 
these,  it  is  a  demonstration  of  what  I  wished 
to  prove,  that  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing  for  a 
man  to  Ijnow  himself. 

But  though  this  knowledge  be  extremely 
difficult,  it  is  by  no  means  impossible  of  attain- 
ment. The  believer  employs  two  methods, 
principally  to  arrive  at  it.  1.  He  studies  his 
own  heart.  2.  He  shrinks  not  from  the  in- 
spection of  the  eyes  of  another. 

1.  First,  the  believer  studies  his  own  heart. 
Let  it  not  appear  matter  of  astonishment  that 
the  generality  of  mankind  are  so  little  ac- 
quainted with  themselves.  They  arc  almost 
always  from  home;  external  objects  engross  all 
the  powers  of  their  mind;  they  never  dive  to 
the  bottom  of  their  own  conscience.  Docs  it 
deserve  the  name  of  searching  the  heart,  if  a 
man  employs  a  rapid  and  su[ierficial  self-ex- 
amination, by  reading  a  few  books  of  prepara- 
tion, on  the  eve  of  a  communion  solemnity:  if 
he  devote  a  few  moments  attention  to  the 
maxims  of  a  preacher,  much  more  with  a  de- 
sign to  apply  them  to  others,  than  to  make 
them  a  test  of  his  own  conduct'    How  is  it 


possible,  by  means  of  an  examination  so  cur- 
sory, to  attain  a  knowledge  which  costs  the 
most  eminent  saints  so  much  application.' 

A  real  Christian  studies  himself  in  a  very 
different  maimer.  With  the  torch  of  the  gos- 
pel in  his  hand,  he  searches  into  the  most  se- 
cret recesses  of  conscience.  He  traces  his  ac- 
tions up  to  their  real  principles.  When  he 
has  performed  an  act  of  virtue,  he  scrupulously 
examines  whether  he  had  been  actuated  by 
some  merely  human  respect,  or  whether  it  pro- 
ceeded from  a  sacred  regard  to  the  law  of  God. 
When  he  unhap|>ily  is  overtaken,  and  falls  into 
sin,  he  carefully  examines  whether  he  was  be- 
trayed into  it  by  surprise,  or  whether,  by  the 
prevalence  of  corru|)tion  in  his  heart,  and  from 
the  love  of  the  world  still  exercising  dominion 
over  him.  When  he  abstains  from  certain 
vices,  he  examines  whether  it  proceeded  from 
real  self-government,  or  merely  from  want  of 
means  and  ojjportunity;  and  he  asks  himself 
this  question,  what  would  I  have  done,  had  I 
been  placed  in  such  and  such  circumstances? 
Would  I  have  preserved  my  innocence,  with 
Joseph,  or  lost  it,  as  David  did?  Would  I, 
with  Peter,  have  denied  Jesus  Christ,  or  have 
endured  martyrdom  in  his  cause,  like  Stephen? 

2.  The  second  method  which  the  believer  em- 
ploys to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  his  own 
heart,  is  to  permit  others  to  unveil  it  to  his 
eyes:  this  is  done  particularly,  either  by  the 
public  instructions  of  the  faithful  ministers  of 
the  gospel,  or  by  the  private  admonitions  of  a 
judicious  and  sincere  friend:  two  articles  very 
much  calculated  to  explain  to  us  the  reasons 
why  most  men  attain  such  an  imperfect  know- 
ledge of  themselves. 

It  is  with  difficulty  we  can  digest  those  ad- 
dresses from  the  pulpit,  in  which  the  preacher 
ventures  to  go  into  certain  details,  without 
which  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  acquire  self- 
knowledge.  We  are  fond  of  dwelling  on  ge- 
nerals. Our  own  portrait  excites  disgust, 
when  the  resemblance  is  too  exact.  It  is  a 
circumstance  well  worthy  of  being  remarked, 
that  what  we  admire  the  most  in  the  sermons 
of  the  dead,  is  the  very  thing  which  gives  most 
offence  in  the  sermons  of  the  living.  When 
we  read,  in  discourses  pronounced  several  ages 
ago,  those  bold  strictures  in  which  the  preach- 
ers unmasked  the  hypocrites  of  their  times,  re- 
proved the  vices  of  the  great  as  freely  as  those 
of  the  little,  attacked  adultery,  extortion,  a  ty- 
rannical spirit,  in  the  very  presence  of  the  of- 
fenders, we  are  ready  to  exclaim,  What  zeal! 
What  courage!  What  firmness!  But  when  a 
preaclier  of  our  own  days  presumes  to  form 
himself  after  such  excellent  models;  when  he 
would  co])y  the  example  of  Elijah,  who  said 
to  Ahab,  "  I  have  not  troubled  Israel;  but  thou 
and  thy  father's  house,"  1  Kings  xviii.  18, 
when  he  would  follow  the  example  of  Nathan, 
who  said  to  David,  "  Thou  art  the  man,"  2 
Sam.  xii.  1,  or  that  of  John  Baptist,  who  said 
to  Herod,  "  It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have 
thy  brother's  wife,"  Mark  vi.  18,  then  the  cry 
is,  What  audacity!  What  presumption!  It 
would  bo  improper,  my  brethren,  to  extend 
any  farther  my  remarks  on  this  subject  at 
present;  but  1  may  be  permitted,  at  least,  to 
borrow  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ,  addressed  to 
hifl  disciples;  "  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say 


Ser.  LXXV.] 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


187 


unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now,"  John 
vi.  12. 

If  wo  arc  unable  to  digest  j)ul»Iic  discourses 
of  tlie  description  which  wo  liavo  been  giving, 
mucit  less  are  wo  disposed  to  bear  with  tlie 
private  admonitions  of  a  judicious  and  sincere 
friend,  vvlio  is  so  faithful  as  to  unveil  to  us  our 
own  heart.     What  a  treasure  is  a  friend,  who 
keeps  constantly  in  view,  I  do  not  say  our  ho- 
nour only,  our  reputation,  but  more  especially 
our  duty,  our  conscience,  our  salvation!   What 
a  treasure  is  a  man,  who  employs  the  influence 
which  he  may  have  over  us,  only  for  the  pur- 
pose of  undeceiving  us  when  we  are  in  an  er- 
ror; of  bringing  us  back  when  wo  have  gone 
astray;  of  assisting  us  to  unravel  and  detect 
the  pretences  which  the  deceitfulness  of  the 
human  heart  uses  to  justify  to  itself  its  wan- 
derings and  weaknesses!    What  a  treasure  is  a 
man,  who  has  the  honesty  to  say  to  us,  accord- 
ing as  circumstances  may  reciuirc:   "  Here  it 
was  your  want  of  experience  that  misled  you; 
there,  it  was  the  prejudice  of  a  faulty  educa- 
tion:   on    that    occasion    you   was   betrayed, 
through  the  seduction  of  those  flatterers,  in 
whose  society  you  take  so  much  delight:  xtn 
this,  it  was  the  too  favourable  opinion  which 
you  had  formed  of  yourselves,  which  would 
persuade  you,  that  you  are  ever  sincere  in 
your  conversation;  ever  upright  in  your  inten- 
tions; ever  steady  in  your  fellowships!" 

Nevertheless,  we  usually  look  upon  this 
precious  treasure  not  only  with  disdain,  but 
even  with  horror.  It  is  sufllcient  to  make  us 
regard  a  man  with  an  eye  of  suspicion,  that  he 
has  discovered  our  weak  side.  It  is  sufficient 
for  him  to  undertake  to  paint  us  in  our  true 
colours,  to  be  perfectly  odious  to  us.  A  real 
Christian  employs  all  the  means  with  which 
he  is  furnished,  to  unveil  his  own  heart  to  him- 
Belf.  By  dint  of  study,  he  acquires  the  know- 
ledge of  himself.  Having  acquired  this  im- 
portant knowledge,  he  seriously  and  resolutely 
sets  about  personal  reformation;  and  he  makes 
progress  in  it.  Ho  examines  tiiis  new  state 
into  which  divine  grace  has  introduced  him; 
and  finding  within  himself  the  ciiaracters  of 
Christianity,  he  lays  hold  of  its  promises.  He 
becomes  assured  of  its  being  in  the  class  of 
those  to  whom  they  are  made.  And  what  is 
it  to  possess  such  assurance?  It  is  to  have  an 
anticipated  possession  of  all  the  blessings  which 
are  the  object  of  it.  It  is  to  be  already  quick- 
ened, already  raised  itp,  already  made  to  sit  in 
heavenly  places  together  irith  Jesus  Christ. 

III.  Finally,  the  believer  is  quickened,  he  is 
railed  up,  he  is  made  to  sit  together  in  heavenly 
places,  by  means  of  the  foretastes  which  he  en- 
joys of  his  participation  in  the  e.xaltatioii  of  the 
Saviour  of  tiie  world.  Should  any  one  accuse 
me,  of  myself  running  under  this  head,  upon 
that  rock  of  the  marvellous,  against  wliich  I 
cautioned  my  hearers,  under  a  preceding  branch 
of  my  discourse,  I  would  request  his  attention 
to  the  following  series  of  propositions,  which  I 
barely  indicate  in  so  many  words. 

1st  Proposition.  God  possesses  a  sovereign 
empire  over  all  perceptions  of  our  souls;  he  is 


has  united  the  compendious  road  of  sensation 
to  the  more  circuitoua  one  of  reasoning,  for  tho 
jjreservation  of  our  body.  What  is  noxious  to 
tiie  body,  makes  itself  known  to  us,  not  only 
by  a  process  of  reasoning,  but  by  certain  dis- 
agreeable sensations,  which  warn  us  to  keep  at 
a  distance  from  it.  Whatever  contributes  to 
its  preservation,  makes  itself  known  by  plea- 
surable sen.sations,  and  thereby  engages  ua  to 
make  use  of  it. 

3d  Projjosition.  It  by  no  means  involves  a 
contradiction,  to  say,  that  if  it  was  the  will  of 
God,  in  the  order  of  nature,  that  the  compen- 
dious road  of  sensation  should  supply  the  more 
circuitous  one  of  reasoning,  he  may  sometimes 
be  pleased  to  conform  to  the  same  economy,  in 
the  order  of  grace. 

4th  Proi)osition.  Wo  are  assured  not  only 
by  reason,  that  God  may  adopt  this  mode  of 
proceeding,  but  Scripture  and  experience  teach 
us,  that  he  actually  does  so,  in  the  c-ase  of  cer- 
tain Christians  of  a  superior  order. 

I  compare  those  sensations  of  grace  to  the 
movements  b}'  which  the  prophets  were  ani- 
mated,   and   which   permitted    them    not  the 
power  of  doubting  whether  or  not  it  was  the 
effect  of  the  presence  of  God  in  their  souls; 
movements   which   produced   conviction  that 
God  intended  to  make  use  of  their  ministry, 
and  constrained  them  in  many  cases  to  act  in 
contradicti;.n  to  their  own  inclinations.   Never 
was  mission  more  glorious  than  that  of  Jere- 
miah.    Never  was  mission  more  difficult  and 
more  burdensome.     He  was  called  to  open  his 
mouth  in  maledictions,  levelled  against  his  fel- 
low-citizens, and  to  be  himself  exposed  as  a 
butt  to  the  execrations  of  that  people.     Over- 
whelmed under  the  pressure  of  a  ministry  so 
distressful,  he  exclaims,  "  Wo  is  me,  my  mo- 
ther, tiiat  thou  hast  born  me  a  man  of  strife, 
and  a  man  of  contention  to  the  whole  earth," 
chap.  XV.  10.     He  does  more.     He  forms  the 
resolution  of  renouncing  a  ministry  which  has 
become  the  bitterness  of  his  life:  "The  word 
of  the  Lord  is  made  a  reproach  unto  me,  and  a 
derision  daily;  then   I   said,  I  will  not  make 
mention  of  him,  nor  speak  any  more  in  his 
name,"  chap.  xx.  8,  9.     But  God  lays  hold  of 
him,  by  invisible  bonds,  and  which  he  finds  it 
impossible  to  shake  off':  "  the  word  of  the  Lord 
is  made  a  reproach  unto  me,  and  a  derision 
daily;  then  I  said,  I  will  not  make  mention  of 
him,  nor  speak  any  more  in  his  name:  but  his 
word  was  in  mine  heart,  as  a  burning  fire  shut 
up  in  my  bones,  and  I  was  weary  with  for- 
bearing, and  I  could  not  stay,"  ver.  9.     "  O 
Lord,  thou  hast  deceived"  (enticed)  "  me,  and 
I  was  deceived,"  (enticed:)  "  thou  art  stronger 
than  I,  and  hast  prevailed,"  ver.  7. 

I  am  persuaded  that  many  among  you  have 
experienced  in  your  vocation,  something  simi- 
lar to  what  the  prophet  experienced  in  his.  I 
am  persuaded  that  many  of  you  have  been  at- 
tracted by  those  irresistible  bands,  and  have 
felt  that  sacred  flame  kindle  in  your  soul, 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  comnnmicates  to  the 
regenerated,  and  which  puts  these  words  into 
tlie  mouths  of  the  disciples,  who  were  travel- 


able  to  excite  in  them  such  as  he  pleases,  either  i  ling  to  Emmaus,  "  Did  not  our  heart  bum 
with  the  concurrence  of  external  objects,  or  ■  within  us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by  the  way, 
without  that  concurrence.  i  and  while  he  opened  to  us  the  Scriptures" 

2d  Proposition.    In  the  order  of  nature,  God  I  Luke  ixiv.  32. 


188 


THE  CHRISTIAN  A  PARTAKER  IN 


[Ser.  LXXV. 


Now,  if  you  call  upon  me  to  go  into  a  more 
particular  detail  on  lliis  subject,  I  will  say  to 
you,  lliat  however  mysterious  tliis  operation  ol" 
the  irrace  of  God  may  be;  wliatcver  difficulty 
may  appear  in  exactly  ascertaining  the  time  of 
its  communication,  it  is  imparted  to  believers, 
in  five  situations  cliiefly.  1.  VN'hen  shutting 
the  door  of  his  closet,  and  excluding  the  world 
from  his  heart,  the  Christian  enjoys  commu- 
nion with  Deity.  2.  When  Providence  calls 
him  to  undergo  some  severe  trial.  3.  When 
he  has  been  enabled  to  make  some  noble  and 
generous  sacrifice.  4.  Wlien  celebrating  the 
sacred  mysteries  of  redeeming  love.  5.  Finally, 
in  the  hour  of  conflict  vviLli  the  king  of  terrors. 
1.  When  shutting  the  door  of  his  closet,  and 
excluding  the  world  from  his  heart,  lie  is  ad- 
mitted to  communion  and  fellowship  with 
Deity,  in  retirement  and  silence.  Tliere  it  is 
that  a  commerce  is  instituted,  the  charms  of 
which  I  should  to  no  purpose  undertake  to 
display,  unless  they  were  known  to  you  by  ex- 
perience. There  it  is  that  tiie  believer  com- 
pensates to  himself  the  time  of  which  he  has 
been  constrained  to  defraud  his  God;  and  there 
it  is,  that  God  compensates  to  the  believer, 
the  delights  of  which  the  commerce  of  the 
world  has  deprived  him.  There  it  is  that  the 
believer  pours  out  into  the  bosom  of  his  Father 
and  his  God,  tlie  sorrow  excited  by  the  recol- 
lection of  his  offences,  and  that  he  sheds  the 
tears  of  a  repentance  which  love  has  enkindled, 
and  expresses  in  terms  such  as  these: 

"  My  God,  I  know  that  love  is  thy  predomi- 
nant character,  and  that  it  cannot  be  thy  will 
I  should  perish:  but  I  am  ashamed  of  my  own 
weakness;  1  am  ashamed  of  the  little  progress 
I  have  made  in  religion,  since  the  time  thou 
hast  been  pleased  to  grant  me  a  revelation  of 
it.  I  am  ashamed  to  reflect  that  such  an  ac- 
cumulation of  benefits  as  tliou  hast  conferred 
upon  me,  should  have  still  produced  so  slight 
an  impression  upon  my  heart." 

And  there  it  is  that  God  wipes  the  tear  from 
the  believer's  eye,  and  heals  up  the  wounds  of 
the  penitent,  saying  unto  him,  "  1,  even  I,  am 
he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions,  for 
mine  own  sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy 
sins,"  Isa.  xliii.  25.  There  it  is  that  the  be- 
liever avails  himself  of  the  tender  access  which 
God  condescends  to  grant  to  those  precious 
moments,  and  that  conversing  with  him,  "  as  a 
man  speaketli  unto  his  friend,"  Ex.  xxxiii.  11, 
he  asks  him  to  bestow  communications  more 
endearing,  more  intimate:  "  I>ord,  1  beseech 
thee  to  show  me  thy  glory,"  ver.  8.  "  Lord, 
scatter  tliat  darkness  wind»  still  veils  thy  per- 
fections from  my  view;  Lord,  dispel  tho.sc 
clouds  which  still  intervene  between  me  and 
the  liglit  of  tliy  cuuntenaiice."  There  it  is  that 
God  lakes  pleasure  to  gratify  desires  so  nobly 
directed:  "  Poor  mortals,  how  unrefined,  iiow 
debased  is  your  taste!  I  low  mucii  are  you  to 
be  pitied,  with  that  relisli  for  the  meagre  de- 
lights of  tliis  world!"  Is  there  any  one  that 
can  stand  a  comparison  with  that  which  tlie 
believer  enjoys  in  such  blessed  intercourse  as 
thi&> 

2.  When  Providence  calls  him  to  encounter 
some  severe  trial.  1  speak  not  here  of  trials 
to  which  appetite  prompts  a  man  to  expose 
himself,  under  the  specious  pretext  of  promis- 


ing himself  the  glory  of  a  triumph,  but  in  reali- 
ty from  the  fatal  cliarm  which  betrays  him  into 
defeat.  We  liave  no  encouragement  to  expect 
divine  su])port  to  resist  and  overcome  tempta- 
tion, when  we  raslily  throw  ourselves  in  the 
way  of  it:  "  He  tiiat  loveth  danger,"  says  the 
Wise  Man,  "  shall  perish  therein."  I  speak 
of  those  trials,  whicli  the  believer  is  called  to 
encounter,  eitlier  from  some  supernatural  in- 
terpositions, or  simply  from  the  duty  imposed 
by  his  Christian  vocation.  How  often  do  they 
appear  to  him  so  rude,  as  to  awaken  despair 
of  overcoming.'  How  often,  when  abandoned 
for  a  moment  to  his  frailty,  he  says  within  him- 
self, "  No,  I  shall  never  have  the  fortitude  to 
bear  up  under  that  painful  conflict:  no,  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  survive  the  loss  of  that 
child,  far  dearer  to  me  than  life  itself:  no,  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  the 
station  to  wiiich  Providence  is  calling  me. 
How  can  I  give  my  heart  to  what  I  hate,  and 
tear  it  away  from  what  I  love?"  Christian,  be 
of  good  courage.  See  that  thy  resolution  be 
upright  and  sincere,  "  to  him  that  believeth  all 
tilings  are  possible,"  Mark  ix.  2a. 

There  are  resources  of  grace  with  which 
thou  art  yet  unacquainted;  but  which  thou 
shalt  know  by  experience,  if  thou  pray  for 
them,  and  make  it  thy  unremitting  and  sincere 
endeavour  to  walk  worthy  of  such  exalted  ex- 
pectations. God  himself  will  descend  into  tliy 
soul  with  rays  of  liglit,  with  fresh  supplies  of 
strength,  with  impressions  so  lively,  of  the  pro- 
mised recompense  of  reward,  that  thou  shalt 
not  feel  the  pains  of  conflict,  and  be  sensible 
only  to  the  pleasure  of  victory;  that  thou  shalt 
raise  the  shout  of  victory,  whilst  thou  art  yet 
in  the  hottest  of  the  battle. 

3.  I  said  that  those  transporting  foretastes 
are  communicated  to  tlie  believer,  after  he  has 
been  enabled  to  offer  up  some  noble  and  gene- 
rous sacrifice.  I  can  conceive  no  transports 
once  to  be  compared  with  those  which  Abra- 
ham felt,  on  his  descent  from  Mount  Moriah. 
What  conflicts  must  he  have  undergone  from 
the  awful  moment  that  God  demanded  his 
Isaac!  What  a  dreadful  portion  of  time,  I  was 
going  to  say,  what  an  eternity  was  the  tiiree 
days  which  passed  between  his  departure  from 
his  habitation,  and  his  arrival  at  tiie  place 
where  this  tremendous  sacrifice  was  to  be  of- 
fered up!  What  emotions  must  that  question 
of  Isaac  have  excited  in  a  father's  bosom;  "  be- 
hold the  fire  and  the  wood,  but  where  is  tiie 
lamb  for  a  burnt-oftering?"  Gen.  xxii.  7. 
Abraham  conies  off  victorious  in  all  these  com- 
bats; Abraham  binds  his  son  with  cords;  lie 
stretches  him  out  on  tiie  wooden  pile;  he  lif\s 
up  his  hand  to  pierce  the  bosom  of  this  inno- 
cent victim.  God  arrests  his  upiitTcd  arm. 
-'\braham  lias  done  his  duty:  he  carries  back 
his  son  with  him;  what  a  transport  of  deliglit! 

liut  this  is  not  all.  Will  Ciod  be  outdone  in 
generosity  by  Abraham?  He  crowns  the  obe- 
dience of  his  servant:  he  accumulates  uj)on 
him  new  marks  of  favour;  he  promises  iiini- 
self  to  immolate  his  own  Son  for  the  m:in  wiio 
could  summon  up  the  resolution  to  devote  liis 
son  at  God's  couunand.  This  is,  according  to 
St.  Paul,  the  sense  of  tiiose  mysterious  words; 
"  by  myself  iiave  1  sworn,  saith  the  Lord,  for 
because  thou  hast  done  this  thing,  and  hast 


% 


Ser.  LXXV.] 


THE  EXALTATION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


189 


not  withheld  thy  son,  thine  only  son;  that  in 
blessing  I  will  bless  thee,  and  in  multiplying 
I  will  multiply  thy.  seed,  as  the  stars  of  the 
heaven,  and  as  the  sand  which  is  upon  the 
sea  shore;  ....  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed,"  Gen.  xxii.  IG 
— 18;  Gal.  iii.  8.  Christians,  true  posterity  of 
the  fatherof  believers,  you  have  a  reward  sin)i- 
lar  to  his. 

4.  While  he  is  partaking  in  the  sacred  mys- 
teries of  redeeming  love,  likewise,  the  believer 
feels  himself  quickened,  raised  up,  seated,  to- 
gether with  Jesus  Christ."  I  cannot  refrain, 
however,  from  here  deploring  the  superstition 
of  certain  Christians,  which  mingles  with  this 
part  of  our  religious  worship,  and  from  repeat- 
ing one  of  the  advices  which  I  suggested  at  the 
opening  of  this  discourse.  Make  not  the  suc- 
cess of  your  communion  to  depend  on  certain 
emotions,  in  which  mechanism  has  much  more 
to  do  than  piety  has.  It  but  too  frer|iicntly 
happens,  that  a  man  shall  apprehend  lie  has 
communicated  worthily,  or  unworthily,  in  pro- 
portion as  he  has  carried  to  a  less  or  greater 
degree  the  art  of  moving  the  senses,  and  of 
heating  the  imagination,  while  he  partakes  of 
the  Lord's  Supper.  The  touchstone  by  which 
we  ought  to  judge  whether  we  brought  to  the 
Lord's  table  the  dispositions  which  he  requires, 
is  the  sincerity  with  which  we  have  renewed 
our  baptismal  engagements,  and  the  exertions 
which  we  shall  afterward  make  punctually  to 
fulfil  them. 

It  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  a  participation 
of  the  sacrament  of  the  supper  is  one  of  the 
situations  in  which  a  believer  most  frequently 
experiences  those  gracious  operations  of  which 
our  apostle  is  speaking  in  the  text.  A  soul, 
whose  undivided  attention  the  Holy  Spirit  fixes 
on  the  mystery  of  the  cross;  and  on  whom  he 
is  pleased  to  impress,  in  a  lively  manner,  the 
great  events  which  the  symbolical  rcj)resenta- 
tion  in  the  Eucharist  retraces  on  the  heart;  a 
soul,  which,  through  grace,  loses  itself  in  the 
abyss  of  that  love  which  God  has  manifested 
towards  us  in  Jesus  Christ;  a  soul  which  has 
learned  to  infer,  from  what  God  has  already 
done,  what  is  still  farther  to  be  expected  from 
him;  a  soul,  which  feels,  and,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  which  relishes  the  conclusiveness 
of  this  reasoning,  "  He  that  spared  not  his  own 
Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall 
he  not,  with  him,  also,  freely  give  us  all 
things?"  Rom.  viii.  32.  Is  not  a  soul  in  such 
a  state,  already  "  quickened,  already  raised  up, 
already  seated  in  heavenly  places,  together  with 
Christ  Jesus?" 

5.  But  it  is  particularly  when  the  believer  is 
grappling  with  the  king  of  terrors,  that  he  ex- 
])eriences  those  communications  of  divine  grace, 
which  transport  him  into  another  world,  and 
which  verify,  in  the  most  sublime  of  all  senses, 
the  idea  which  the  apostle  conveys  to  us  of  it, 
in  the  words  of  the  text.  Witness  that  pa- 
tience and  submission  under  sutTerings  the 
most  acute,  and  that  entire  acquiescence  in  the 
sovereign  will  of  God:  "  I  was  dumb,  I  opened 
not  my  mouth;  because  thou  didst  it,"  Ps. 
xxxix.  9.  Witness  that  supernatural  detach- 
ment from  tlie  world,  which  enables  him  to 
resign,  without  murmuring,  and  without  re- 
serve, all  that  he  was  most  tenderly  united  to: 


"  henceforth  know  1  no  man  after  the  flesh," 
2  Cor.  V.  16.  1  have  no  connexion,  now,  save 
with  that  "Jesus,  of  whom  the  whole  family 
in  heaven  and  earth  is  named,"  Eph.  iii.  15. 
Witness  that  immoveable  hope,  in  the  midst 
of  universal  desertion;  "  though  he  slay  me, 
yet  will  1  trust  in  him,"  Job  xiii.  l.^i,  "yea, 
though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  sha- 
dow of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art 
with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort 
me,"  Ps.  xxiii.  4.  Witness  that  faith  which 
pierces  through  the  clouds,  which  the  devil, 
and  linll,  and  the  world  spread  around  his  bed 
of  languishing:  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
liveti),  and  tliat  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day 
upon  the  earth:  and  though  after  my  skin 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall 

1  see  God;  whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and 
mine  eyes  shall  behold,  and  not  another,"  Job 
xix.  25 — 27.  Witness  that  holy  impatience 
with  which  he  looks  forward  to  the  moment 
of  his  dismission:  "  I  have  waited  for  thy  sal- 
vation, O  God,"  Gen.  xlix.  18.  "  Come,  Lord 
Jesus,  come  quickly,"  Rev.  xxii.  20.  Witness 
those  songs  of  triumph,  amidst  the  very  sharp- 
est of  tlie  conflict:  "  Thanks  be  unto  God, 
which  always  causeth  us  to  triumph  in  Christ," 

2  Cor.  ii.  14.  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  my 
strength,  v.'hich  teacheth  my  hands  to  war,  and 
my  fingers  to  fight,"  Ps.  cxliv.  1. 

Witness,  once  more,  those  tender,  those  in- 
structive, those  edifying  conversations  which 
take  place  between  the  dying  Christian  and 
his  pastor.  The  pastor  addresses  to  the  dyino- 
person  these  words  on  the  part  of  God:  "  Seek 
my  face;"  and  tlie  dying  believer  replies,  "  Thy 
face,  Lord,  will  I  seek,"  Ps.  xxvii.  8.  The 
pastor  says,  "  Behold,  what  manner  of  love 
the  Father  hath  bestowed  upon  thee,"  1  John 
iii.  1,  and  the  dying  person  replies;  "the  love 
of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  my  heart,  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  which  is  given  unto  me,"  Rom.  v. 
5.  The  pastor  says,  "  Seek  those  things  which 
are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right 
hand  of  God:"  the  dying  person  replies,  "  1 
have  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ," 
Phil.  i.  23.  "My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for 
the  living  God:  when  shall  I  come  and  appear 
before  God?"  Ps.  xlii.  2.  The  pastor  says, 
"  Run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before 
thee,  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher 
of  tli^"^  faith,"  Heb.  xii.  1,  2.  Tlie  dying  be- 
liever replies,  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fiijht,  I 
have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith. 
Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown 
I  against  that  day,"  2  Tim.  i.  12.  "I  know 
j  whom  I  have  believed,  and  I  am  persuaded 
I  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  com- 
mitted unto  iiim  against  that  day,"  2  Tim.  iv. 
1,  8.  "  Behold,  I  see  the  heavens  opened,  and 
the  Son  of  man  standing  on  the  right  hand  of 
God,"  Acts  vii.  56. 

Such  are  the  wonders  which  the  grace  of 
I  God  displays,  in  favour  of  those  who  are  in 
I  earnest  to  obtain  it,  and  give  themselves  up  to 
its  direction.     And  such  are  the  tre:isures,  un- 
happy worldlings,  which  you  are  sacrificing  to 
,  a  transient  world,  and  its  lying  vanities.    Such 
I  is  the   felicity  which   you  experience,  which 
j  you  have  already  experienced  in  part,  happy, 
happy  Christians,  whose  condition  is  so  far  pre- 
!  ferable  to  that  of  all  the  rest  of  mankind. 


190 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


[Ser.  LXXVL 


What  now  remains  for  nic  to  do,  after  hav- 
ing employed  my  feeble  étroits  to  draw  you 
to  God,  by  attractions  so  j)owerful:  what  re- 
mains, but  to  address  my  most  fervent  prayers 
to  iiiin,  and  to  entreat  that  lie  would  be  pleased 
to  make  known  those  pure  and  exalted  de- 
lights, to  those  who  are,  as  yet,  utter  strangers 
to  tiiem;  and  tiiat  he  may,  powerfully  confirm, 
even  unto  the  end,  those  to  whom  he  has  al- 
ready graciously  communicated  them.  With 
this  we  shall  conclude  the  solemn  business  of  a 
day  of  sacred  rest.  We  are  going;,  once  more, 
to  lift  up  to  heaven,  in  your  behalf,  hands  pu- 
rified in  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer  of  man- 
kind. Come,  my  beloved  brethren,  support 
these  hands,  should  they  wax  heavy:  perform 
for  us  the  service  which  Aaron  and  Hur  ren- 
dered to  Moses,  as  we  are  attempting  to  render 
the  service  of  a  Moses  unto  you.  Assist  us  in 
moving  the  bowels  of  the  God  of  mercy. — 
And  graciously  vouchsafe,  blessed  Jesus,  who, 
on  the  memorable  day,  of  which  we  are  now 
celebrating  the  anniversary,  wert  "  made  higher 
than  the  heavens;  set  on  the  riglit  hand  of  the 
throne  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens;"  and 
who  presentest  unto  God,  in  "  a  golden  censer, 
the  prayers  of  all  saints:"  vouchsafe,  blessed 
Jesus,  to  give  energy  to  those  which  we  are 
about  to  put  up,  and  to  support  them  by  thy 
all-powerful  intercession.     Amen. 

SERMON  LXXVL 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 
PART  I. 


Malachi  i.  6,  7. 
Jl  son  honmireth  his  father,  and  a  servant  his  mas- 
ter: if  then  I  be  a  father,  where  is  mine  ho- 
nour? and  if  I  be  a  master,  tchere  is  mij  fear? 
sailh  the  Lord  of  Hosts  unto  you,  0  priests, 
that  despise  my  name.     Jlnd  ye  say,  Wherein 
have  we  despised  thy  name?     Ye  offer  polluted 
bread  upon  mine  altar;  and  ye  say,  Wherein 
have  we  polluted  thee?     In  that  ye  say.  The  ta- 
ble of  the  Lord  is  contemptible- 
Though  the  spectacle,  which  the  solemnity 
of  this  day  calls  to  our  recollection,  did  not  di- 
rectly interest  ourselves,  it  would,  nevertheless, 
be   altogether   worthy,  separately  considered, 
of  detaining  our  eyes,  and  of  fixing  our  atten- 
tion.    Men    have   sometimes  appeared,  who, 
finding  their  last  moments  apj)roiiching,  col- 
lected their  family,  summoned  up  tiieir  remain- 
ing strength,  expressed  a  wisli,  in  a  rcjiast  of 
love  and  benevolence,  to  take  a  last,  a  long 
farewell  of  the  persons  who  were  most  dear  to 
them,  and  to  break  asunder,  by  that  concluding 
act  of  social  attachment,  all  tlq  remains  of 
that  human  aflection  which  tied  them  down  to 
the  w<jrld. 

Wiiat  an  object,  my  brethren,  what  a  heart- 
affecting  object  does  that  man  present,  who, 
beholding  himself  on  tlio  point  of  being  re- 
moved froiri  all  those  to  whom  ho  was  most 
tenderly  united,  desires  to  sec  tiiein  all  assem- 
bled together  for  the  lawt  time,  and,  when  as- 
sembled, addresses  them  in  terms  such  as  the.<!e: 
*'  It  was  to  you,  whoso  much  loved  society  con- 
stituted the  joy  of  my  life,  it  was  to  you  I 


took  delight  in  disclosing  the  most  secret  emo- 
tions of  my  soul:  and  if  it  were  still  possible 
fur  any  thing  to  call  me  back,  now  tliat  my 
God  is  calling  me  away,  it  would  be  the  in- 
clination I  feel,  to  prolong  the  happy  days 
which  we  have  passed  together.  But  though 
the  bands  which  unite  us  are  close  and  en- 
deared, they  must  not  be  everlasting.  It  was 
in  tiie  order  of  human  things,  either  that  you 
should  be  called  to  close  my  eyes,  or  that  I  should 
be  called  to  close  yours.  Providence  is  now  de- 
claring the  supreme  command,  that  I  should 
travel  before  you,  the  way  of  all  the  earth:  it 
was  my  wish,  before  I  undergo  the  irreversible 
decree,  once  more  to  behold  the  persons  whom 
I  have  ever  borne  on  my  heart,  to  call  to  re- 
membrance the  sweet  counsel  which  we  have 
taken  together,  the  connexions  which  we  have 
formed:  and  thus  too  it  is,  that  I  would  take 
leave  of  the  world.  After  having  given  away, 
for  a  moment,  to  the  expansions  of  my  love 
for  you,  I  rise  above  all  the  objects  of  sense;  I 
am  swallowed  up  of  the  thoughts  which  ought 
to  employ  the  soul  of  a  dying  person,  and  I 
iiasten  to  submit  to  the  will  of  the  Sovereign 
Disposer  of  life  and  death." 

Jesus  Christ,  in  the  institution  of  this  holy 
ordinance,  is  doing  somewhat  similar  to  the  re- 
presentation now  given.  His  disciples  were 
undoubtedly  his  most  powerful  attachment  to 
the  earth.  The  kind  of  death  which  he  was 
about  to  suffer,  demanded  the  undivided  atten- 
tion of  his  mind:  but  before  he  plunges  into 
that  vast  ocean  of  thought  which  was  to  carry 
him  through  the  sharp  conflicts  prepared  for 
him,  he  wishes  to  behold  again,  at  his  table, 
those  tender  objects  of  his  affection:  "  With  de- 
sire," says  he  to  them,  "  I  have  desired  to  eat  this 
passover  with  you  before  I  suffer,"  Luke  xxii. 
15.  Had  I  not  good  reason  for  expressing  my- 
self as  I  did?  Though  this  spectacle  did  not 
directly  interest  ourselves,  it  would  be  highly 
worthy,  considered  in  itself  of  detaining  our 
eyes,  and  of  fixing  our  attention. 

But  what  closeness  of  attention,  what  con- 
centration of  thought  does  it  not  require  of  us, 
if  we  consider  it  in  the  great  and  comprehen- 
sive views,  which  animated  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  when  he  instituted  the  sacrament 
of  the  supper!  Behold  him  prepared,  that 
divine  Saviour,  to  finish  the  great  work,  which 
heaven  has  given  him  to  do.  He  comes  to 
substitute  himself  in  the  room  of  those  vic- 
tims, whose  blood,  too  worthless,  could  do  no- 
tliing  towards  tiic  purification  of  guilty  man. 
He  comes  to  fulfil  that  mysterious  jjrediction: 
"  Sacrifice  and  offering  thou  didst  not  desire, 

mine  ears  hast  thou  opened; Lo,   I 

come;  in  the  volume  of  the  book  it  is  written 
of  me;  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  O  my  God; 
yea,  thy  law  is  within  my  heart,"  Ps.  xl.  6 — 8. 
lie  comes  to  deliver  up  himself  to  that  death, 
the  very  a])proaches  of  which  ins|)ire  tiie  soul 
with  horror,  and  constrain  him  to  cry  out, 
"  Now  is  my  soul  troubled;  and  what  shall  I 
say?"  Jolm  xii.  21.  "  My  soul  is  e.vceeding 
sorrowfiil,  even  unto  death,"  Matt.  xxvi.  36. 

What  shall  he  do  to  support  himself  in  the 
prospect  of  such  tremendous  arrangements? 
What  buckler  shall  he  oppose  to  those  enve- 
nomed arrows,  with  which  he  is  going  to  be 
transfixed?    Love,  my  bretluen,  formed  the  go- 


Ser.  LXXVI.] 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


lOT 


nerous  design  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  is  ready 
to  offer  up;  and  lovo  will  carry  him  throiiirh 
the  arduous  undortakinff.     He  says  to  liiiiiself, 
that  the  nieinory  of  tills  death  wliicli  he  is  go- 
ing  to   endure,   sliall   be  perpetuated   in  the 
churches,  even  unto  tiie  end  of  tlie  world;  that, 
even  to  tlic  end  of  the  world,  he  shall  be  the 
refuge  of  poor  perishing  sniners.     He  says  to 
himself,  that  through  tlio  whole  world  of  be- 
lievers, whom  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is 
going  to  subdue  to  his  love  and  obedience,  this 
death  shall  bo  celebrated.     He  himself  insti- 
tutes the  memorial  of  it,  and  taking  that  bread 
and  that  wine,  the  august  symbols  of  his  body 
broken,  and  of  his  blood  shed,  he  cives  them 
to  his  disciples;  he  says  to  them,  and,  in  their 
person,  to  all  those  who  shall  believe  in  hitn 
through  their  word,  "  Take,  eat,  tiiis  is  my 
body;  this  is  my  blood  of  the  New  Testament, 
Drink  ye  all  of  it,"  Matt,  x.xvi.  26—28.   "This 
do  in  remembrance  of  me:  For  as  oflen  as  ye 
eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show 
the   Lord's  death  till   he  come,"  1  Cor.  xi. 
24—26. 

O  shame  to  human  nature!  O  the  weakness, 
sliall  I  call  it'  or  the  hardness  of  the  human 
heart!  And  must  it  needs  be;  must  the  sweet 
composure  of  this  holy  exercise,  be  this  day 
marred,  by  the  cruel  apprehension,  that  some 
among  you  may  be  in  danger  of  profaning  it, 
while  they  celebrate  it'  Must  it  be,  that  in  in- 
viting you  to  that  sacred  table,  we  should  be 
checked  by  the  humiliating  reflection,  that 
some  new  Judas  may  be  coming  there  to  re- 
ceive the  sentence  of  his  condemnation?  It  is 
in  the  view  of  doing  our  utmost,  to  prevent  the 
commission  of  a  crime  so  foul,  and  a  calamity 
so  dreadful,  that  we  wish,  previously  to  our 
distributing  unto  you  the  bread  and  the  wine 
which  sovereign  wisdom  has  prepared  for  you, 
to  engage  you  in  deep  and  serious  reflection  on 
the  words  which  have  been  read.  You  will  be 
abundantly  sensible  how  well  they  are  adapted 
to  my  purpose,  when  you  shall  have  placed 
yourselves,  in  thought,  in  the  circumstances 
wherein  the  Jews  were  placed,  at  the  time 
they  were  addressed  to  them.  With  tliis  I 
open  my  subject. 

The  prophet  IMalachi,  whose  voice  God  is 
here  employing  on  a  message  to  his  people, 
lived  a  few  years  after  the  return  from  the  cap- 
tivity. He  succeeded  Haggai  and  Zechariah. 
These  two  prophets  had  been  raised  up,  chiefly 
for  the  purpose  of  stimulating  the  Jews  to  un- 
dertake the  rebuilding  of  the  temple.  Malachi 
was  specially  destined  to  urge  them  to  render 
unto  God,  in  that  magnificent  edifice,  a  wor- 
ship suitable  to  the  majesty  of  him  to  whose 
service  it  was  consecrated.  The  same  difficul- 
ties, which  the  two  first  of  those  holy  men  had 
to  encounter  in  the  discharge  of  their  ministrj', 
he  encountered  in  the  exercise  of  his.  What 
desire  more  ardent  could  animate  men,  who 
had  lived  threescore  and  ten  years  without  a 
temple,  without  altars,  without  sacrifices,  with- 
out a  public  worship,  than  that  of  beholding  in 
the  midst  of  them,  those  gracious  signs  of  the 
divine  presence'  This  was,  however,  by  no 
means  the  object  of  general  ambition  and  pur- 
suit. They  looked  to  the  rearing  and  embel- 
lishing of  their  own  houses,  and  left  to  God  the 
care  of  building  that  which  belonged  to  him. 


Wo  find  traces  of  this  shameful  history,  in 
the  |)ro[)liecies  of  the  two  first  whom  we  nam- 
ed,  particularly  in   those  of  Haggai.     There 
we  have  displayed,  the  excuses  made  by  that 
wretched  petiple,  to  serve  as  a  colour  to  their 
criminal  negligence:  "  Thus  speakcth  the  Lord 
of  hosts,  saying,  This  people  say.  The  time  is 
not  come,  the  time  that  the  Lord's  house  should 
he  built,"  chap.  i.  2.     We  have  a  censure  of 
this  spirit  and  conduct,  proportioned  to  their 
enormity,  in  ver.  4,  "  Is  it  time  for  3'ou,  O  ye, 
to  dwell  in  your  ceiled  houses,  and  this  house 
lie  waste?"     But,  what  is  still  more  awful,  we 
behold  the  tremendous  judgments,  by  which 
God  avenged  himself  of  guilt  so  atrocious,  in 
ver.  9 — 1 1.     "Ye  looked  for  much,  and,  lo,  it 
came  to  little;  and  when  ye  brought  it  home  I 
did  blow  upon  it.     Why?   saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts.    Because  of  mine  house  that  is  waste, 
and  ye  run  every  man   unto   his  own  house. 
Therefore  the  heaven  over  you  is  stayed  from 
dew,  and  the  earth  is  stayed  from  her  fruit. 
And  I  called  for  a  drought  upon  the  land,  and 
upon  the  mountains,  and  upon  the  com,  and 
upon  the  new  wine,  and  upon  the  oil,  and  upon 
that  which  the  ground  bringeth  forth,  and  upon 
men,  and  upon  cattle,  and  upon  all  the  labour 
of  the  hands." 

How  awfully  respectable  is  a  preacher,  my 
brethren,  when  the  indignation  of  Heaven  se- 
conds his  voice!  When  the  pestilence,  mortali- 
ty, famine,  add  weight  to  the  threatenings 
which  he  denounced!  Haggai,  supported  by 
this  all-powerful  aid,  at  length  attained  the 
object  of  his  ministry.  The  Jews  did  that  from 
constraint  which  they  ought  to  have  done  from 
a  principle  of  piety  and  zeal:  you  might  now 
see  them  labouring  with  emulous  fervour,  to 
raise  the  august  edifice,  and  the  temple  arose 
out  of  its  ruins. 

But  scarcely  was  the  house  of  the  Lord  re- 
built, when  they  profaned  the  sanctity  of  the 
place,  and  violated  the  laws  which  were  there 
to  be  observed.  The  observation  of  those  laws 
was  burdensome.  It  required  not  only  great 
mental  application,  but  was  likewise  attended 
with  very  considerable  expense.  The  avarice 
of  their  sordid  spirits  made  them  consider  every 
thing  which  they  dedicated  to  such  purposes, 
as  next  to  lost.  They  durst  not,  at  the  same 
time,  venture  entirely  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of 
religion.  They  did  what  men  generally  do, 
when  the  laws  of  God  clash  with  their  inclina- 
tions: they  neither  yielded  complete  submis- 
sion, nor  dared  to  avow  open  rebellion.  They 
attempted  to  reconcile  the  dictates  of  their  own 
passions  with  the  commands  of  heaven.  To 
comply  with  the  commands  of  heaven,  they 
presented  oflerings;  but  to  gratify  the  cravings 
of  passion,  they  presented  offerings  of  little 
value. 

This  idea  of  the  circumstances  in  which  the 
Jews  were  at  the  time  when  our  prophet  flour- 
ished, is  one  of  the  best  keys  for  disolosing  the 
real  sense  of  the  words  of  the  text.  If  it  un- 
folds not  to  us  the  whole  extent  of  its  significa- 
tion, it  funiishes  at  least  a  good  general  expli- 
cation. Malachi  severely  censures  the  priests 
of  his  day,  that  called,  as  they  were,  to  main- 
tain good  order  in  the  church,  they  calmly 
overlooked,  or  avowedly  countenanced  the 
open  violation  of  it.    He  reproaches  them  for 


192 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


[Ser.  LXXVI. 


this  miscondiirl,  by  the  example  of  what  a  son 
owes  to  his  fatlier,  and  a  servant  to  iiis  master. 
He  en)ploys  this  image,  because  the  priests 
were,  in  an  appropriate  sense,  considered  as 
belonging  unto  God;  in  conformity  to  what 
God  himself  says  in  ciiap.  viii.  of  llie  book  of 
Numbers:  "  Thou  shalt  separate  tiie  Lévites 
from  among  tlie  children  of  Israel:  and  the  Lé- 
vites shall  be  mine:  ....  for  they  are  wholly 
5iven  unto  me,  from  among  tlic  children  of 
srael  ....  instead  of  the  lirst-born  of  all  the 
children  of  Israel,  have  I  taken  tiium  unto  me: 
....  on  the  day  that  I  smote  every  first-born 
in  the  land  of  Egypt,  I  sanctified  tliem  for  my- 
self." It  is  to  you,  O  ye  priests,  says  he  to 
them,  that  I  address  myself;  "  A  son  honoureth 
his  father,  and  a  servant  his  master:  if  then  I 
be  a  father,  where  is  mine  honour?  and  if  1  be 
a  master,  where  is  my  fear?  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts  unto  you,  O  priests,  that  despise  my 
name.  And  ye  say,  vviiercin  have  we  despised 
thy  name?  Ye  ofier  polluted  bread  upon  mine 
altar;  and  ye  say,  wherein  have  we  polluted 
thee?  In  that  ye  say,  the  table  of  the  Lord  is 
contemptible." 

If  any  difficulty  still  remain,  respecting  the 
general  sense  of  the  passage,  it  can  be  of  no 
considerable  importance,  as  it  prevents  not  our 
discerning  the  principal  aim  and  design  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  It  is  not  perhaps  easy,  I  admit, 
to  determine  with  exact  precision,  what  we 
are  to  understand  by  "  the  table  of  the  Lord," 
by  that  contempt  which  was  expressed  for  it, 
and  by  the  "  polluted  bread"  which  those  un- 
worthy ministers  oiFered  upon  it.  There  are 
two  opinions  on  this  subject,  but  which  both 
issue  in  the  idea  we  have  suggested  to  you,  of 
our  prophet's  sentiment. 

It  is  the  opinion  of  some  commentators,  that 
by  the  table,  of  which  Malachi  speaks,  is  to  be 
understood  the  table  which  corresponded  to 
that  placed  by  Moses,  by  the  command  of  God, 
in  the  part  of  the  tabernacle  denominated  the 
*'  holy  place."*  The  law  enjoined  that  there 
should  always  be  upon  that  table  twelve 
loaves,  or  cakes,  which  we  denominate  the 
"show-bread,"  otherwise  called  "the  bread  of 
faces,"  not  because  these  cakes  were  moulded 
into  several  sides,  or  raised  into  small  protube- 
rances, according  to  the  opinion  of  certain 
Jewish  doctors,  but  because  tliey  were  continu- 
ally e.xposed  in  the  presence  ol"  Jehovah,  who 
was  considered  as  residing  in  the  holy  place. 
The  law  which  enjoined  the  offering  of  them, 
had  likewise  prescribed  the  rites  which  were  to 
be  observed  in  presenting  that  offering.  They 
were  to  be  placed  on  the  holy  table,  to  the 
number  of  twelve:  they  were  to  be  composed 
of  fine  flour  kneaded  into  a  paste:  each  cake 
was  to  contain  an  omer  of  flour.  The  Jews 
tell  us,t  that  it  must  have  passed  eleven  times 
through  the  searse;  and  if  St.  JeromeJ.  is  to  be 
credited,  it  belonged  to  the  priests  to  sow,  to 
reap,  and  to  grind  the  corn,  of  which  the  cakes 
were  made,  and  to  knead  the  dougii.  What- 
ever may  be  the  truth  as  to  some  of  these  par- 
ticulars, to  treat  the  table  of  the  Lord  as  com- 
ttmplible,  to  otler  unto  God  "  polluted  bread," 

*  Sec  Exodui  xtv.  23,  «tc. 

f  See  Mischna,  torn.  v.  tit.  de  muncre,  cap.  vi.  sec.  vii. 
p.  95.     Edit.  Amit. 

}Hicrou.  lum.  iii.  in  Mul.  i.  C.  p.  1810.     Edit.  Bcncd. 


is,  conformably  to  the  sentiment  which  I  have 
detailed,  to  violate  some  of  the  rites  which 
Were  to  be  observed  in  the  offering  of  the  cakes, 
placed,  by  divine  command,  on  the  table  which 
was  in  liie  holy  place. 

Tiie  generality  of  interpreters  have  adopted 
another  opinion,  which  we  have  no  difficulty 
in  following.  By  "the  table  of  the  Lord," 
they  here  undersUmd  the  altar  of  burnt-offer- 
ings. It  is  denominated  "  the  table  of  the 
Lord,"  in  some  other  passages  of  Scripture; 
particularly  in  chap.  xli.  of  the  prophecies  of 
Kzekiel.  There,  after  a  description  of  the  altar 
of  burnt-offerings,  it  is  added,  "  This  is  the 
table  that  is  before  the  Lord,"  ver.  22.  On 
this  altar  were  off'ered  cakes  of  fine  flour,  as 
we  see  in  various  passages,  particularly  in  the 
first  verses  of  chap.  ii.  of  the  book  of  Leviticus. 
These  cakes  are  represented  as  if  they  were 
the  bread  of  God.  Tiie  same  name  was  given 
to  every  thing  offered  to  Deity  on  that  altar. 
All  was  called  "the  bread  of  God,"  or  "the 
meat  of  God;"  for  reasons  which  will  be  bet- 
ter understood  in  the  sequel.  I  shall,  at  pre- 
sent, satisfy  myself  with  quoting  a  single  pas- 
sage in  justification  of  this  remark.  It  is  in 
chap.  xxi.  of  the  book  of  Leviticus,  the  6th 
verse.  Moses,  after  having  laid  down  the  du- 
ties of  the  priests,  adds  these  words:  "  they 
shall  be  holy  unto  their  God,  and  not  profane 
the  name  of  their  God;  for  the  offerings  of  the 
Lord  made  by  fire,  and  the  bread  of  their  God 
do  they  offer;  therefore  they  shall  be  holy." 
You  see  that  in  the  Levitical  style,  they  denomi- 
nated "  tlie  meat  of  God,"  or  "the  bread  of 
God,"  not  only  the  cakes  which  were  offered 
upon  the  altar,  not  only  the  loaves  of  the 
show-bread  which  were  presented  on  the  table 
in  the  holy  ])lace,  but  all  the  victims  which 
were  consumed  by  fire  on  the  altar  of  burnt- 
offering. 

Now,  the  manner  in  which  those  offerings 
were  to  be  presented,  had  likewise  been  laid 
down  with  singular  precision.  There  was  a 
general  law  respecting  this  point,  which  you 
will  find  in  chap.  iv.  of  Leviticus:  it  enjoined 
that  the  victim  should  be  "  without  blemish;" 
and  if  you  wish  for  a  more  particular  detail  on 
tiiis  subject,  you  may  farther  consult  chap.  xxii. 
of  the  same  book.  There  we  have  enumerated 
ten  imperfections,  which  rendered  a  victim  un- 
worthy of  being  offered  unto  God.  Some* 
place  in  tliis  class,  not  only  bodily  but  mental 
imperfections,  if  this  last  epithet  may  be  ap- 
plied to  brutes.  For  example,  they  durst  not 
liave  presented  unto  God  animals  of  an  obsti- 
nate, petulant,  capricious  dis|>osition,  and  the 
like.  Scruples,  by  the  way,  which  the  pagans 
themselves,  and  particularly  the  Egyptians  en- 
tertained, respecting  the  victims  which  they 
offered  to  their  gods.  They  set  apart  for  them 
the  choicest  of  the  flock  and  of  the  herd.  He- 
rodotus informs  us,l  that  in  Egypt,  there. were 
persons  specially  appointed  to  tlie  office  of  ex- 
amining the  victims. 

Let  us  no  longer  deviate  from  the  principal 
object  of  our  text.  If  by  "  the  table  of  the 
Lord,"  we  are  to  understand,  as  it  is  presuma- 
ble we  ought,  the  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  "  to 

*  See  Bocliart  Hicroz,  l'art  I.  Book  II. chap.  46.  p.52i. 
t  In  Euterpe,  cap.  xxiviii.  p,  104,    Edit.  Francof. 


Ser.  LXXVI.] 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


193 


offer  unto  God  polluted  bread,"  in  the  style  of 
Malanlii,  to  say,  "  the  table  of  the  Lord  is  con- 
temptible," is  to  violate  some  of  the  rites  pre- 
scribed, respecting  the  oflerings  which  were 
presented  unto  God  upon  that  altar.  More  es- 
pecially, it  is  to  consecrate  to  Deity,  victims 
which  had  some  of  the  blemishes  that  rendered 
them  unworthy  of  his  acceptance. 

But  was  it  indeed,  then,  altogether  worthy 
of  God  to  enter  into  details  so  minute?  Hut  of 
what  importance  could  it  be  to  the  liord  of  the 
universe,  whether  the  victims  presented  to  him 
were  fat  or  lean,  and  whether  the  bread  conse- 
crated to  him  were  of  wheat  or  of  barley,  of 
fine  or  of  coarse  Hour?  And  though  the  Jews 
were  subjected  to  minuteness  of  this  kind,  what 
interest  can  we  have  in  them,  we  who  live  in 
ages  more  enlightened;  we  who  are  called  to 
serve  God  only  "  in  spirit  and  in  truth,"  John 
iv.  24,  and  to  render  him  none  but  a  "reason- 
able service,"  Rom.  xii.  1.  We  shall  devote 
the  remainder  of  the  time,  at  present  permitted 
to  us,  to  the  elucidation  of  these  questions;  we 
shall  endeavour  to  unfold  the  great  aim  and 
object  of  our  text,  and  apply  it  more  particu- 
larly to  the  use  of  our  hearers.  For  this  pur- 
pose it  will  be  necessary  to  institute  a  twofold 
parallel. 

I.  We  shall  institute  a  parallel  between  the 
altar  of  burnt-otferings,  or  the  table  of  the 
show-bread,  and  the  table  of  the  Eucharist:  and 
shall  endeavour  to  unfold  the  mystical  views 
of  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

II.  The  second  parallel  shall  be,  between  the 
profanation  of  the  altar,  or  the  table  of  the 
show-bread,  and  the  profanation  of  the  Chris- 
tian sacramental  table:  we  shall  indicate  what 
is  implied,  with  respect  to  the  Jews,  and  with 
respect  to  Christians,  in  offering  to  God  "  pol- 
luted bread,"  and  in  looking  on  "  the  table  of 
the  Lord  as  contemptible;"  and  we  will  endea- 
vour to  make  you  sensible  of  the  keenness  of 
the  reproach  conveyed  by  the  mouth  of  tlie 
prophet:  "  A  son  honoureth  his  father,  and  a 
servant  his  master:  if  then  I  be  a  father,  where 
is  mine  honour?  and  if  I  be  a  master,  where  is 
my  fear?  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts  unto  you,  O 
priests,  that  despise  my  name.  And  ye  say, 
wherein  have  we  despised  thy  name?  Ye  ofier 
polluted  bread  upon  mine  altar;  and  ye  say, 
wherein  have  we  polluted  thee?  In  that  ye  say, 
the  table  of  the  Lord  is  contemptible." 

SERMON  LXXVI. 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 

PART  II. 


Malachi  i.  6,  7. 
.4  son  honoureth  his  father,  and  a  servant  his  mas- 
ter: if  then  I  be  a  father,  where  is  mine  Iwnour? 
and  if  I  be  a  master,  where  is  my  fear?  saith  tlie 
Lord  of  hosts  unto  you,  0  priests,  that  despise 
my  nanu.  And  ye  say,  Wherein  have  we  de- 
spised thy  name?  Ye  offer  polluted  bread  upon 
mine  altar;  and  ye  say,  Wherein  have  we  pol- 
luted thee?  In  that  ye  say,  The  table  of  the 
Lord  is  contemptible. 

Having  endeavoured  to  remove  the  difficul- 
ties in  which  the  text  may  seem  to  be  involved, 

Vol.  II.— 25 


and  shown  what  wc  are  to  understand  by  "  pol- 
luted bread,"  by  "  the  table  of  the  Lord,"  and 
by  calling  "  the  table  of  the  Lord  contempti- 
ble," we  proceed  to  institute  the  twofold  paral- 
lel proposed. 

1.  Let  us  state  a  parallel  between  the  altar 
of  burnt-offerings,  the  table  of  the  show-bread, 
and  the  sacramental  table  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per; the  offerings  which  were  presented  to  God 
on  the  first,  and  those  which  we  still  present  to 
him  on  the  second.  The  sacramental  table  of 
the  supper,  as  the  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  and 
as  the  table  of  the  show-bread,  is  "  the  table 
of  the  Lord."  The  viands,  presented  on  both 
the  one  and  the  other,  are,  "  the  meat  of  God," 
or  ■'  the  bread  of  God."  And  those  sacred 
ceremonies,  however  they  may  differ  as  to  cer- 
tain circumstances,  have  been,  nevertheless, 
destined  to  the  same  end,  and  represent  the 
same  mysteries:  namely,  the  intimate  union 
which  God  wishes  to  maintain  with  his  church 
and  people. 

You  will  be  convinced  that  this  was  the  des- 
tination of  the  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  and  of 
the  table  of  the  show-bread,  if  you  have  formed 
a  just  idea  of  the  temple,  and  of  the  tabernacle. 
The  tabernacle  was  considered  to  be  the  tent 
of  God,  as  the  Leader  and  Commander  of  Is- 
rael, and  the  temple  was  considered  as  his  pa- 
lace. Fo*-  this  reason  it  is,  that  when  God 
gave  commandment  to  construct  the  taberna- 
cle, he  said  to  Moses,  "  Let  them  make  me  a 
sanctuary;  that  I  may  dwell  amongst  them," 
Exod.  xxi.  8.  And  when  Solomon  substituted 
the  temple  in  room  of  the  tabernacle,  he  was 
desirous  of  conveying  the  same  idea  of  it:  "  I 
have  surely  built  thee  a  house  to  dwell  in,  a 
settled  place  for  thee  to  abide  in  for  ever." 
The  following  are  the  words  of  a  very  sensible 
Rabbi  on  this  subject:*  "  God,  to  whom  be  all 
glory  inscribed,  gave  commandment  to  build 
for  him  a  house,  similar  to  the  palaces  of  the 
kings  of  the  earth.  All  these  things  are  to  be 
found  in  tlie  palaces  of  kings;  they  are  sur- 
rounded by  guards;  they  have  servants  to  pre- 
pare their  victuals;  musicians  who  sing  to  them, 
and  play  on  instruments.  There  are  likewise 
chambers  of  perfumes;  a  table  on  which  their 
repasts  are  served  uj);  a  closet  into  which  fa- 
vourites only  are  admitted.  It  was  the  will  of 
God,  that  all  these  things  should  be  found  in 
his  house,  that  in  notliing  he  miirlit  yield  to  the 
potentates  of  the  earth.  And  all  these  things 
are  designed  to  make  the  people  know,  that  our 
King,  the  Lord  of  hosts,  is  in  the  midst  of  us." 

This  general  idea  of  the  tabernacle  justifies 
that  which  we  are  going  to  give  of  the  altar  of 
burnt-offerings,  and  of  the  table  of  the  show- 
bread. 

1.  That  of  the  altar  of  burnt-offering:  it  was 
denominated  "  the  table  of  the  Lord,"  and  the 
viands  served  upon  it  were  denominated  "  the 
meat"  or  "the  bread  of  Jehovah,"  because  the 
end  of  the  sacrifices  there  offered  up  by  his 
command,  was  to  intimate,  that  he  maintained 
with  his  people  an  intercourse  as  familiar  as 
that  of  two  friends,  who  eat  together  at  the 
same  table.  This  is  the  most  ancient,  and  the 
most  usual  idea  of  sacrifice.     When  alliances 


*  Rabbi  Schem  Job  Comment,  in  Mere  Nevoch.  Part 
HI.  cap.  iliv.  fol.  171.    Veuet.  5211. 


194 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


[Ser.  LXXVI. 


were  contracted,  victims  were  immolated:  and 
the  contracting  parties  made  a  common  repast 
on  their  Hesh,  to  express  the  intimate  miion 
which  they  formed  with  each  otlier. 

This  was  tlic  reason  of  ail  tlie  rites  which 
were  served  between  God  and  the  people  of 
Israel,  in  the  alliance  formed  previous  to  the 
promulgation  of  the  law.  They  are  recorded 
in  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  the  book  of 
Exodus.  Moses  represented  (îod;  Aaron,  Na- 
dab  and  Abihu  his  two  sons,  and  the  three- 
score and  ten  elders  re|)resented  the  whole  con- 
gregation of  Israel.  Altars  were  reared;  sacri- 
fices were  offered  up;  they  feasted  together  on 
the  flesh  of  the  victims.  It  is  expressly  related 
that  Aaron,  Nadab,  and  Abihu,  and  those  otlier 
venerable  personages  whom  I  have  mentioned, 
went  up  into  the  mountain,  "  also  they  saw 
God,  and  did  eat  and  drink,"  ver.  11.  And  to 
make  it  apparent  that  the  divine  presence  in- 
tervened, the  history  adds,  tliat  God  vouchsafed 
to  bestow  sensible  tokens  of  his  presence:  "  And 
they  saw  the  God  of  Israel:  and  tliere  v/as  un- 
der his  feet  as  it  were  a  paved  work  of  a  sap- 
phire-stone, and  as  it  were  the  body  of  heaven 
in  his  clearness,"  ver.  10.  A  work  paved  with 
stars,  resembling  a  composition  of  sapphire- 
stones:  a  symbol  wiiich,  perhaps,  God  preferred 
to  any  other,  because  the  sapphire  was,  among 
the  Egyptians,  the  emblem  of  royalty,  as  may 
be  seen  in  their  hieroglyphics,  which  the  indus- 
try of  the  learned  have  preserved  to  us. 

The  pagans,  likewise,  had  the  same  ideas  of 
the  sacrifices  which  they  offered  up.  They  did 
eat  together  the  flesh  of  the  victims,  and  this 
they  called  eating  or  feasting  ivith  the  gods.* 
They  sometimes  carried  off  part  of  it  to  their 
houses;  sometimes  sent  a  portion  of  it  to  their 
friends;  sometimes  they  partook  of  it  in  the 
temples  themselves,  in  which  tables  were 
placed  for  the  express  purpose  of  celebrating 
festivals  of  this  kind.  Homer,  in  the  Odyssey,f 
introduces  Alcinous,  speaking  to  this  efliect: 
"  The  gods  render  themselves  visible  to  us, 
when  we  immolate  hecatombs  to  them;  they 
eat  with  us,  and  place  themselves  by  us  at  the 
same  table."  The  same  poet,  speaking  of  a 
solemn  festival  of  the  Ethiopians,  says,|.  that 
Jupiter  had  descended  among  them,  to  be  pre- 
sent at  a  festival  which  they  had  prepared  for 
him,  and  that  he  was  attended  thither  by  all 
the  gods."  In  another  place§  he  tells  us,  that 
Agamemnon  sacrificed  an  ox  to  Jupiter,  and 
that  he  invited  several  of  the  chieftains  of 
the  Grecian  army,  to  eat  the  flesh  of  that  vic- 
tim. He  relates  something  similar  respecting 
Nestor.  II 

Hence  it  conies  to  pass  that  the  phrase  to 
make  a  feast,  is  very  frequently  employed  both 
by  sacred  and  profane  authors,  to  express  per- 
forming acts  of  idolatrous  woi-ship.  In  this 
sense  it  is  that  we  are  to  understand  it,  in  that 
passage  of  the  prophet  Ezekiel,  where,  enume- 
rating the  characters  of  the  just  man,  this  is 
laid  down  as  one,  "  He  hath  not  eaten  upon 
the  mountains,"  chap,  xviii.  6;ir  that  is,  who 


*  Plato,  (om.  II.  de  Lcgibus  11.  p.  653.   Edit.  Steph. 
J578. 
f  Book  V.  Ter.  202.  }  Iliad  I.  vcr.  423. 

è  Iliad  11.  Tcr.  439,  &.c. 
I  Ody«>.  III.  ver.  428,  Sic. 
f  Sec  other  eiamplei,  £xod.  xxzii.  6. 


has  not  been  a  partaker  in  the  sacrifices  of  the 
idolatrous.  In  burnt-otterings,  the  part  of  the 
victim  consumed  by  fire,  was  considered  as  the 
portion  of  Ueity.  Of  this  I  shall  adduce  only 
a  single  instance,  that  I  may  not  load  my  dis- 
course with  too  many  quotations.  Solinus  re- 
lates,* that  those  who  oflered  up  sacrifices  to 
idols  on  Mount  Etna,  constructed  their  altars 
on  the  brink  of  its  crater:  that  they  placed 
bundles  of  dried  sprigs  upon  those  altars,  but 
that  they  applied  no  fire  to  them.  They  pre- 
tended, that  when  the  Divinity,  in  honour  of 
whom  these  rites  were  performed,  was  pleased 
to  accept  the  sacrifice,  the  bundles  of  sprigs 
spontaneously  cauglit  fire;  that  the  flame  ap- 
proached the  persons  who  were  celebrating  this 
sacred  festivity;  that  it  encompassed  them 
round  and  round,  without  doing  them  any 
harm;  and  thus  was  declared  the  acceptance 
of  their  oblation. 

In  like  manner,  in  the  sacrifices  which  were 
oflered  upon  tlie  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  one 
part  of  the  victim  was  for  the  people,  another 
part  for  the  priests,  and  another  part  was  con- 
sumed by  fire;  this  last  was  considered  as  the 
portion  of  God;  this  was  particularly  denomi- 
nated the  meat  or  the  bread  of  God;  and  the 
whole  solemnity  was  intended,  as  has  been  said, 
to  represent  the  intimate  union,  and  the  fa- 
miliar intercourse,  which  God  wished  to  main- 
tain between  himself  and  his  people. 

2.  The  same  was  likewise  the  design  of  the 
table  of  the  show  bread.  It  was  natural  that 
in  the  tabernacle,  which  was  considered  as  the 
tent  of  Jehovah,  and  in  the  temple  which  was 
afterwards  considered  as  his  palace,  there  should 
be  a  table  replenished  with  provision  for  him- 
self and  for  his  ministers.  It  was  the  com- 
mand of  God,  that  twelve  of  those  cakes 
should  be  exhibited  continually  on  the  table  of 
the  sanctuary,  to  denote  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel.  This  same  number  was  kept  up  even 
after  the  revolt  of  the  ten  tribes;  because  there 
were  always  worshippers  of  the  true  God, 
scattered  over  the  whole  twelve  tribes.  These 
cakes,  exposed  continually  in  the  presence  of 
Jeiiovah,  were  an  invitation  given  to  the  re- 
volted tribes,  to  maintain  his  worship,  and  to 
serve  him  conformably  to  the  rites,  which  he 
himself  had  been  pleased  to  prescribe  by  the 
hand  of  Moses.  This  was  likewise  the  grand 
motive  urged  by  Abijah,  king  of  Judah,  to 
bring  back  the  Israelites  to  their  allegiance,"  2 
Chron.  xiii.  9,  &c. 

In  this  same  sense  is  the  table  of  the  Eucha- 
rist, likewise,  the  table  of  the  Lord.  In  this 
same  sense,  wo  consider  as  the  meat  of  God,  or 
as  the  bread  of  God,  these  august  symbols  which 
are  presented  to  us  in  the  holy  sacrament  of  the 
supper.  These  two  solemn  ceremonies  have 
exactly  one  and  the  same  end  in  view.  The 
end  ])roposed  by  the  table  of  the  Eucharist,  as 
by  that  of  the  altar  of  burnt-offerings,  or  by 
the  table  of  the  shmc  bread,  is  to  form,  and  to 
maintain  between  God  and  us,  an  intercourse 
of  familiar  friendship;  it  is  to  form  between 
God  and  us  the  most  intimate  union  which  it 
is  possible  to  conceive  as  subsisting  between 
two  beings  so  very  di fièrent  as  are  the  Creator 
and  the  creature.     What  proofs  of  love  can  be 

*  Polyh.  up.  T.  p.  15.  Edit.  Tri^ect.  1689. 


Ser.  LXXVI.] 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


195 


interchanged  by  two  friends  united  in  the  ten- 
dorcst  bonds,  which  God  and  the  behever  do 
not  mutually  give  and  receive  at  the  Eucharis- 
tical  table. 

Two  friends  intimately  united,  become  per- 
fectly reconciled  to  each  other,  when  some  inT 
terposing  cloud  iiad  dimmed  the  lustre  of  friend- 
ship, and  they  repair,  by  warmer  returns  of  af- 
fection, the  violence  which  love  had  suffered 
under  tiiat  fatal  eclipse.  This  is  what  we  ex- 
perience at  the  table  of  the  holy  sacrament. — 
That  august  ceremony  is  a  mystery  of  recon- 
ciliation between  the  penitent  sinner  and  the 
God  of  mercy.  On  the  one  part,  tiie  penitent 
sinner  presents  unto  God  "  a  broken  and  con- 
trite heart,"  Ps.  li.  17,  for  grief  of  having  of- 
fended him:  he  pours  into  the  bosom  of  his 
God  the  tears  of  repentance;  he  protests  that 
if  the  love  which  he  has  for  his  God  has  un- 
dergone a  temporary  suspension,  it  never  was 
entirely  broken  asunder;  and  if  the  flame  of 
that  affection  has  been  occasionally  smothered 
under  the  aslics,  yet  it  was  never  entirely  ex- 
tinguished: he  says  to  him  with  Thomas,  reco- 
vered from  his  paroxysm  of  incredulity,  "  My 
Lord  and  my  God;  my  Lord  and  riiy  God," 
John  XX.  28,  and  with  Peter,  restored  to  favour 
after  he  had  denied  his  Master,  "  Lord,  thou 
knowest  all  things,  tliou  knowcst  that  I  love 
thee,"  John  xxi.  17.  And  on  the  other  part, 
the  God  of  mercy  extends  his  bowels  of  com- 
passion towards  the  believer;  he  gives  him  as- 
surance that  his  repentance  is  accepted,  and 
speaks  peace  inwardly  to  his  conscience,  say- 
ing, "  Son,  be  of  good  cheer,  thy  sins  be  for- 
given thee,"  Matt.  ix.  2. 

Two  friends  intimately  united,  lose  sight,  in 
some  sense,  of  the  difference  which  there  may 
be  between  their  respective  conditions.  This 
too,  is  what  the  believer  experiences  at  tiie 
Lord's  table.  On  the  one  part,  though  there 
must  ever  be  an  immeasurable  abyss  between 
God  and  us,  we  go  to  him  as  to  our  brother, 
as  to  our  friend;  shall  I  presume  to  add,  as  to 
our  equal?  And  on  the  other  part,  God  is 
pleased  to  lay  aside,  in  condescension  to  our 
weakness,  if  the  expression  be  lawful,  the  rays 
of  his  divine  majesty,  with  which  the  eyes  of 
mortals  would  be  dazzled  into  blindness.  Je- 
sus Christ  clothes  himself  with  our  flesh  and 
blood:  and  of  that  community  of  nature  makes 
up  a  title  of  familiarity  with  us;  according  to 
those  words  of  the  apostle;  "  both  he  that 
sanctifieth,  and  they  who  are  sanctified,  are  all 
of  one:  for  which  cause  he  is  not  ashamed  to 
call  them  brethren,  saying,  I  will  declare  thy 
name  unto  my  brethren,"  Ileb.  ii.  11,  12. 

Two  friends  intimately  united,  blend  their 
goods  and  fortune,  in  blending  their  condition. 
This  likewise  the  believer  experiences  in  the 
holy  sacrament  of  the  supper.  On  the  one  hand, 
we  devote  to  God  all  that  we  are;  we  promise 
him  that  there  is  no  band  so  tender  but  what 
we  shall  be  ready  to  break  asunder;  no  passion 
60  dear,  but  that  we  are  determined  to  sacri- 
fice it;  no  possession  so  precious  but  that  we 
are  cheerfully  disposed  to  resign,  whenever  his 
glory  requires  it  at  our  hands.  And  on  the 
other  hand,  God  draws  nigh  to  us  with  his 
grace,  with  his  aid,  and  to  say  all  in  one  word, 
he  comes  to  us  with  his  son:  he  gives  us  this 
Son,  as  tlie  Son  gives  himself  to  us,  "  God  so 


loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son,"  John  iii.  16.  "  Greater  love  hath  no 
man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friends,"  John  xv.  13. 

Two  friends  intimately  united,  however  well 
assured  tliey  may  be  of  reciprocal  tenderness, 
take  pleasure  in  making  frequent  repetition  of 
tlie  expressions  of  it.  Friendship  has  its  high 
festivals,  its  overflowings,  its  ecstacies.  This 
too  is  the  experience  of  the  saints  at  the  table 
of  the  Lord.  There  the  soul  of  the  believer 
says  to  his  Redeemer,  "  I  am  crucified  with 
Clirist:  nevertheless  1  live;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ 
liveth  in  me:  and  the  lite  which  I  now  live  in 
the  flush,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God, 
who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  mo,"  Gal. 
ii.  20.  And  there  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
God  communicates  to  the  soul  of  the  believer 
the  full  assurance  of  liis  love:  "  For  the  moun- 
tains siiall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed: 
but  my  kindness  shall  not  depart  from  thee, 
neither  shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  bo  re- 
moved, sailh  the  Lord,  that  hath  mercy  on 
thee,"  Isa.  liv.  10. 

Thus  it  is,  my  brethren,  that  the  altar  of 
burnt  offerings,  or  the  table  of  the  show  bread, 
and  the  Eucharistical  table  of  the  Lord's  supper, 
present  the  self-same  mysteries  to  the  eye  of 
faith.  Thus  it  is  that  both  the  one  and  the 
other  are  "  tiie  table  of  the  Lord,"  and  that 
the  repast  served  upon  it,  is  "  the  meat  of 
God,"  or  the  bread  of  God.  Thus  it  is,  that 
in  both  the  one  and  the  other  of  those  solemn 
ceremonies,  the  end  which  God  proposes  to 
himself  is  to  form  with  men  a  union  the  most 
intimate  and  the  most  tender. 

Having  thus  stated  the  first  parallel  propos- 
ed, that  of  the  altar  of  burnt  offerings,  or  the 
table  of  the  show  bread,  and  the  sacramental  ta- 
ble of  the  Lord's  Supper,  we  now  proceed, 

II.  To  state  the  parallel  between  the  profa- 
nation of  the  altar,  or  the  table  in  the  ancient 
sanctuary,  and  the  profanation  of  the  sacra- 
mental table  of  the  Eucharist:  that  is,  to  state 
the  parallel  between  the  duties  prescribed  to 
tlie  ancient  Jews,  and  tliose  which  are  pre- 
scribed to  Christians,  when  they  draw  nigh  to 
God  in  the  holy  ordinance  of  tlie  supper.  As 
they  trace  the  same  important  truths,  they  en- 
force the  same  practical  obligations.  What 
made  the  ancient  Jews  profane  the  table  of 
the  Lord?  How  came  they  to  say,  "  tlie  ta- 
ble of  the  Lord  is  contemptible?"  How  durst 
they  offer  "  polluted  bread"  on  his  altar?  It 
was,  1.  Because  they  formed  not  just  ideas  of 
tiie  end  which  God  proposed  to  himself,  when 
he  enjoined  the  observance  of  those  solemni- 
ties. It  arose,  2.  From  their  unwillingness  to 
fulfil  the  moral  engagements  which  the  cere- 
monial observance  imposed.  Finally,  3.  It 
proceeded  from  their  wanting  a  just  sense  of 
the  value  of  the  blessings  communicated  by 
these.  Now  the  sources  of  unworthy  commu- 
nicating, so  common  in  the  Christian  world, 
are  precisely  the  same.  Want  of  illumination; 
want  of  virtue;  want  of  feeling.  AVant  of  il- 
lumination, which  prevents  their  knowing  the 
meaning  and  design  of  our  sacred  mysteries. 
Want  of  virtue,  which  prevents  their  immo- 
lating to  God  all  the  vices  which  separate  be- 
tween him  and  them.  Want  of  feeling,  which 
prevents  their  being  kindled  into  gratitude,  and 


106 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


[Ser.  LXXVI. 


love,  and  iioly  fervour,  wlien  God  discloses  to 
them,  at  his  table,  all  the  treasures  of  felicity 
and  glory.  Three  heads  of  coinparisoti  be- 
tween the  priests  of  Malachi's  days,  and  many 
who  bear  the  Christian  name  ainonij  ourselves. 
Three  touchstones  furnished  to  assist  you  in  the 
examination  of  your  own  consciences.  "  Thus 
Baith  the  Ivord  of  hosts  unto  you,  O  priests,  that 
despise  my  name:  and  ye  say,  wherein  have 
we  despised  thy  name.'  Ye  offer  polluted  bread 
upon  my  altar:  and  ye  say,  wherein  have  we 
polluted  thee.'  In  that  ye  say,  the  table  of  the 
Lord  is  contemptible." 

1.  Want  of  illumination.  The  priests  of 
Malachi's  days  did  not  form  ideas  sufficiently 
just  of  the  end  which  Jehovah  promised  to 
himself,  when  he  enjoined  the  presenting  of 
offerings,  on  the  altar  of  burnt  offerings,  and 
on  the  table  of  the  show  bread.  Expressly 
Bet  apart  for  teaching  those  great  truths  to 
others,  tliey  remained  themselves  in  a  state  of 
ignorance.  They  had  no  other  qualification 
to  be  the  ministers  of  religion,  except  the  tribe 
from  which  they  descended,  and  the  habit 
which  they  wore.  Our  prophet  upbraids  them 
with  this  gross  and  criminal  ignorance:  "  The 
priests'  lips  should  keep  knowledge,  and  they 
should  seek  the  law  at  his  mouth:  for  he  is  the 
messenger  of  the  Lord  of  hosts:  but  ye  are  de- 
parted out  of  the  way:  ye  have  caused  many 
to  stumble  at  the  law,"  chap.  ii.  7,  8.  They 
had  not  only  conceived  false  ideas  of  religion 
themselves,  but  they  communicated  these  to 
the  people.  The  prophet  does  not  indicate  pre- 
cisely respecting  what  points  the  ignorance  of 
those  unworthy  ministers  was  most  conspicu- 
ous: but  if  we  may  form  a  judgment  of  the 
case  from  the  character  of  their  successors,  it 
was  impossible  to  entertain  ideas  of  religion 
more  false  than  those  which  they  propagated. 
How  wretched  was  the  doctrine  of  the  Rab- 
bins who  were  contemporar}-  with  our  blessed 
Lord,  and  of  those  of  modern  times!  Misera- 
ble conceits;  insipid  allegories;  imaginary  mys- 
teries; puerile  relations.  Tiicsu  constituted  the 
great  body  of  the  Rabbinical  theolugy.  Would 
to  God  that  such  whims  were  to  be  found  only 
among  Rabbins!  But  we  must  not  pursue  this 
reflection.  Nothing  more  is  wanting,  many  a 
time,  but  a  single  ignorant,  prejudiced  pastor, 
to  perpetuate  ignorance,  and  transmit  preju- 
dice, for  ages  together  in  a  church.  This  was 
evidently  the  case  in  the  times  of  our  prophet: 
and  this  it  was  which  dictated  these  keen  re- 
proaches: "ye  are  departed  out  of  the  way: 
ye  have  caused  many  to  stumble  at  the  law: 
ye  have  corrupted  the  covenant  of  Levi,  saith 
the  Lord  of  hosts,"  chaj).  ii.  8. 

Want  of  illumination:  the  first  head  of  com- 
parison between  the  criminality  of  the  priests 
of  Malachi's  day,  who  said,  lite  tabic  of  the  Lord 
is  conlemplihle,  and  the  criminality  of  profess- 
ing Christians,  who  prol'iine  the  sacramental 
table.  To  profane  the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  is  to  partake  of  the  symbols  there  pre- 
sented, without  having  maturely  considered  the 
great  truths  which  they  represent.  To  profane 
the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  is  to  com- 
municate, without  having  any  other  ideas  of 
the  mysteries  of  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of 
God,  which  are  there  unfolded,  than  those 
which  we  bad  of  them  in  the  days  of  our 


childhood.  To  profane  the  ordinance  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  is  to  believe,  on  the  faith  of  a 
man's  pastor,  or  of  his  ancestors,  that  God 
sent  his  Son  into  the  world,  to  redeem  the  hu- 
man race,  and  to  take  no  pains  to  be  inform- 
ed on  what  principles  that  doctrine  is  esta- 
blished. 

To  present  "  polluted  bread  on  the  altar  of 
God;"  to  say,  "  the  table  of  the  Lord  is  con- 
temptible:" it  is  the  crime  of  that  young  man, 
who  would  account  himself  degraded  by  ap- 
plying to  the  study  of  his  catechism,  by  acquir- 
ing more  perfect  knowledge  of  his  religion; 
who  would  rather  continue  to  grovel  in  igno- 
rance, than  employ  the  means  necessary  to  the 
attainment  of  instruction.  It  is  the  crime  of 
that  head  of  a  family,  who  is  so  far  from  being 
in  a  condition  to  communicate  religious  instruc- 
tion to  his  children,  that  he  himself  is  a  stran- 
ger to  it.  It  is  the  crime  of  that  magistrate, 
who,  under  pretence  of  a  load  of  public  busi- 
ness, will  not  take  time  seriously  to  examine, 
whether  there  be  a  God  in  heaven,  and  whe- 
ther the  Scriptures  are  of  divine  origin  and  au- 
thority. It  is  the  crime  of  that  female,  who, 
under  pretence  of  the  weakness  of  her  sex,  de- 
bases the  dignity  of  her  nature,  and  devotes 
her  whole  attention  to  the  management  of 
her  domestic  concerns.  Look  well  to  it,  exa- 
mine yourselves  carefully.  Is  there  no  one 
among  you  who  can  discern  his  own  resem- 
blance in  any  of  these  characters.'  Is  it  a 
knowledge  of  the  truth,  or  the  power  of  pre- 
judice, or  compliance  with  custom,  which  in- 
duces you  to  assume  the  livery  of  Christianity? 
Is  it  the  decision  of  a  learned  divine,  and  the 
authority  of  your  fathers;  or  is  it  the  fruit  of 
serious  study,  and  an  enlightened  persuasion? 
Want  of  illumination;  this  is  the  first  article 
of  comparison  between  the  profane  priests  of 
Malachi's  days,  and  profane  Christians  of  our 
own  times:  "you  offer  polluted  bread  upon 
mine  altar:  ye  say  the  table  of  the  Lord  is  con- 
temptible." 

2.  The  priests  of  Malachi's  days  profaned 
the  table  of  the  Lord,  in  refusing  to  fulfil  the 
moral  engagements  which  the  ceremonial  ob- 
servance imposed,  in  the  symbols  of  a  sacred 
union  witii  Deity.  While  they  were  profess- 
edly uniting  themselves  to  the  Holy  07ie  of  Is- 
rael, they  entertained  sentiments  the  most  cri- 
minal, and  were  chargeable  with  practices  the 
most  irregular  and  impure.  They  participated 
in  the  table  of  the  Lord,  while  their  hands 
were  defiled  with  the  accursed  thing;  and  they 
presumed,  by  offering  to  God  a  part  of  what 
they  had  forcibly  or  fraudulently  taken  away 
from  their  neighbours,  to  make  in  some  mea- 
sure, an  accomplice  in  their  injustice  and  rapa- 
city. With  this  they  are  reproached  in  the 
lïJth  and  13lh  verses  of  the  chapter  from  which 
our  text  is  taken:  ye  have  polluted  my  table, 
in  presenting  on  it  that  which  is  torn  or  stolen. 
They  were  |)artaker8  of  tlie  table  of  the  Lord, 
at  the  very  time  when  they  were  avowedly 
living  in  forbidden  wedlock  with  pagan  women. 
With  this  they  are  upbraided  in  the  second 
chapter  of  this  prophecy,  at  the  eleventh  verse: 
"  Judah  had  dealt  treacherously,  and  an  abomi- 
nation is  committed  in  Israel  and  in  Jerusalem: 
for  Judah  hath  profaned  the  holiness  of  the 
Lord  which  he  loved,  and  hath  married  the 


Ser.  LXXVI.] 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


197 


daugliter  of  a  strange  god."  They  were  par- 
takers of  the  table  of  the  Lord,  at  the  very 
time  when  they  were  practising  criminal 
divorces,  and  indulging  themselves  in  senti- 
ments tlic  most  barbarous  and  inhuman,  to- 
wards persons  whom  the  laws  of  marriage 
ought  to  have  rendered  dear  and  respectable 
to  them.  With  this  they  are  reproached  in 
the  13lh  verse  of  the  same  chapter;  "  Tiiis 
have  ye  done  again,  covering  the  altar  of  the 
Lord  with  tears,  with  weeping,  and  with  cry- 
ing out,  insomuch  that  he  regardeth  not  the 
offering  any  more,  or  receiveth  it  with  good 
will  at  your  hand.  Yet  ye  say,  Wliereforc? 
Because  the  Lord  hath  been  witness  between 
thee  and  the  wife  of  thy  youth,  against  whom 
thou  hast  dealt  treacherously;  yet  she  is  thy 
companion,  and  the  wife  of  thy  covenant." 
They  were  partakers  of  the  table  of  the  Lord, 
while  they  impiously  dared  to  accuse  him,  not 
only  of  tolerating  vice,  but  of  loving  and  ap- 
proving it.  With  this,  too,  they  are  reproached, 
in  the  nth  verse  of  that  chapter:  "Ye  have 
wearied  the  Lord  with  your  words:  yet  ye  say, 
wherein  have  we  wearied  him?  When  ye  say, 
every  one  that  doth  evil  is  good  in  the  siglit 
of  the  Lord,  and  he  deiighteth  in  them:  or, 
where  is  the  God  of  judgment'" 

Want  of  virtue:  a  second  point  of  compari- 
son between  the  priests  who  said,  "  the  table 
of  the  Lord  is  contemptible,"  and  professors 
who,  to  this  day,  profane  the  holy  ordinance 
of  the  supper.  Can  any  among  you  discerp 
your  own  likeness  under  tliis  character?  Are 
you  going  to  vow  unto  the  Lord  an  inviolable 
fidelity;  or,  while  you  are  partaking  of  his 
grace,  have  you  a  secret  reservation  disrespect- 
ful to  his  laws?  Is  it  your  determination  to 
put  in  practice  the  great,  the  essential  virtues 
of  the  Christian  life:  or  do  you  mean  to  satisfy 
yourselves  with  discharging  the  petty  duties 
of  morality,  and  with  attending  to  the  formal 
and  less  important  obligations  of  religioa'  Are 
you  going  to  declare  war  against  every  thing 
which  opposes  the  empire  of  righteousness  in 
your  heart,  or  are  you  reserving  the  indul- 
gence of  some  favourite  passion,  some  Delilah, 
some  Drusilla?  Are  you  disposed  to  prescribe 
to  your  progress  in  grace  a  fi.xed  point,  beyond 
which  it  is  needless  to  aim;  or  is  it  your  n.xcd 
resolution,  through  grace,  to  be  continually 
advancing  towards  perfection'  Are  you  going 
to  satisfy  yourselves  with  vague  designs;  or  are 
your  projects  to  be  supported  by  just  measures 
and  sage  precautions? 

3.  Finally,  the  priests  of  Malachi's  days 
profaned  the  table  of  the  Lord,  from  their  be- 
ing destitute  of  a  just  sense  of  the  inestimable 
value  of  the  blessings  communicated.  It  seemed 
to  them,  as  if  God  put  a  price  too  high  on 
the  benefits  which  he  proffered:  and  that, 
every  thing  weighed  and  adjusted,  it  was  bet- 
ter to  go  without  them,  than  to  purchase  them 
at  the  rate  of  such  sacrifices  as  the  possession 
of  them  demanded.  This  injurious  mode  of 
computation  is  reproved  in  very  concise,  but 
very  energetic  terms,  chap.  i.  13.  "Ye  said, 
what  a  weariness  is  it!"  and,  in  another  place, 
chap.  iii.  14.  "  Ye  have  said  it  is  vain  to 
serve  God:  and  what  profit  is  it,  that  we  have 
kept  his  ordinance,  and  that  we  have  walked 
mournfully  before  the  Lord  of  hosts?"  and  at 


the  very  beg  inning  of  the  book  of  this  prophecy: 
"  I  have  loved  you,  saith  the  Lord:  yet  we  say, 
wherein  hast  thou  loved  us?"  This  was  offer- 
ing an  insult  to  Deity,  if  the  expression  be 
warrantable,  in  the  tenderest  part.  He  de- 
clares to  us,  that  he  stands  in  no  need  of  our 
worship,  and  of  our  homage;  that,  exalted  to  the 
height  of  felicity  and  glory,  he  can  derive  no 
advantage  from  our  obedience  and  submission; 
that  his  laws  are  the  fruit  of  love,  and  that  the 
virtue  which  he  prescribes  to  us,  is  the  only 
path  that  can  conduct  us  to  the  sovereign  good. 
The  priests  belied  this  notion  of  religion. 

Want  of  feeling:  a  third  article  of  compa- 
rison, between  the  profanation  of  the  table  of 
the  Lord,  of  which  those  detestable  wretches 
rendered  themselves  guilty,  and  the  guilt  of 
Christian  professors  who  profane  the  holy  ta- 
ble of  the  Lord's  Supper.     A  Christian  who 
partakes  of  this   sacred    ordinance,  ought  to 
approach  it  with  a  heart  penetrated  by  the  un- 
speakable greatness  of  the  blessings  there  ten- 
dered to  our  acceptance.     He  ought  to  view 
that  sacred  table  as  the  centre,  in  which  all 
the  benedictions  bestowed  by  the  Creator  meet. 
He  ought  to  be  making  unremitting  efforts  to 
measure  the  boundless  dimensions  of  the  love 
of  God,  to  implore  the  aid  of  the  Spirit,  that 
he  may  be  enabled  to  view  it  in  all  its  extent, 
and  to  "  comprehend  with  all  saints,  what  is 
the  breadtn,  and  length,  and  depth,  and  height 
of  that  love,"  Eph.  iii.  18.    He  ought  to  be  con- 
templating that  chain  of  blessings  which  are 
there   displayed  in  intimate  and  inseparable 
union:  "  Whom  he  did  foreknow  he  also  did 
predestinate,  to  be  conformed  to  the  image  of 
his  Son moreover  whom  he  did  pre- 
destinate them  he  also  called:  and  whom  he 
called  tliem  he  also  justified:  and  whom  he 
justified  them  he  also  glorified,"  Rom.  viii. 
29,  30.     Under  a  sense  of  favours  so  numerous, 
and  so  distinguishing,  he  ought  to  cry  out  with 
the  psalmist:  "  How  excellent  is  thy  loving- 
kindness,  O  God!  therefore  the  children  of  men 
put  their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  thy  wings. 
They  shall  be  abundantly  satisfied  with  the 
fatness  of  thy  house;  and  thou  shalt  make  them 
drink  of  the  river  of  thy  pleasures,"  Ps.  xxxvi. 
",  8.     He  ought  to  exclaim,  with  a  soul  ab- 
sorbed in  the  immensity  of  the  divine  goodness: 
"  my  soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and 
fatness,"  Ps.  Ixiii.  5.     He  ought,  above  all,  to 
be  struck  with  the  incomprehensible  dispropor- 
tion there  is  between  what  God  does  for  us, 
and  what  he  requires  of  us.     He  ought  to  make 
the  same  estimate  of  things  which  St.   Paul 
did;  "  I  reckon,  that  the  sufferings  of  this  pre- 
sent time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us,"  Rom. 
viii.  18,  every  thing  fairly  considered,  I  reckon 
that  the  trouble  which  the  study  of  his  reli- 
gion demands,  tlie  sacrifices  exacted  of  God, 
tlie  constraint  to  which  I  am  subjected  in  im- 
molating to  him  my  sinful  passions,  in  resist- 
ing   a    torrent   of   corruption,    in    struggling 
against  the  intluence  of  bad  example,  in  strain- 
ing to  rise  above  flesh  and  blood,  above  self- 
love  and  nature:  every  thing  fairly  considered, 
I  reckon  that  whatever  is  demanded  of  us  by 
God,  when  we  come  to  his  table,  is  not  once 
to  be  compared  with  the  favours  which   he 
there  dispenses,  with  the  grand  objects  which 


198 


FOR  A  COMMUNION  SABBATH. 


[Ser.  LXXVI. 


he  there  displays,  with  the  pardon  which  ]ie 
there  pronounces,  with  the  peace  of  conscience 
which  he  tliere  bestows,  with  the  eternal  glory 
which  he  there  promises.  To  be  destitute  of 
such  feelings  as  these,  when  we  partake  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  is  to  profane  it.  E.Kainine 
yourselves  once  more  by  this  standard.  Want 
of  feeling,  this  was  the  third  head  of  com- 
parison between  profane  Jews,  and  profane 
Christian  professors:  "  Ye  otter  polluted  bread 
upon  mine  altar;  ye  say  the  table  of  the  Lord 
is  contemptible." 

Let  each  of  us  examine  himself  by  an  appli- 
cation of  the  truths  now  delivered.  I  shall 
address  myself, 

1.  To  those  who,  on  reviewing  their  former 
communion  services,  see  cause  to  consider 
themselves  as  chargeable  with  the  guilt  which 
God  imputed  to  the  Jews  who  lived  in  tiie 
daysof  Malachi.  And  would  to  God  that  this 
topic  of  discourse  might  have  no  reference  to 
any  one  in  this  assembly!  Would  to  God  tliat 
no  one  of  you  might  be  justly  ranked  in  any  of 
the  odious  classes  which  we  have  enumerated! 

But  only  employ  a  moment's  reflection,  on 
the  shortness  of  the  time  usually  devoted  to 

fireparation  for  partaking  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 
t  is  evident,  as  I  think,  from  all  we  have  said, 
that  the  preparation  necessary  to  a  worthy 
receiving  of  it,  is  a  work,  nay,  a  work  which 
calls  for  both  attention  and  e.xerlion.  But  do 
we,  of  a  truth,  set  apart  much  of  our  time  to 
this  work'  I  do  not  mean  to  examine  all  the 
cases  in  which  a  man  may  communicate  un- 
worthily; I  confine  myself  to  a  single  point, 
and  only  repeat  this  one  reflection:  Prepara- 
tion for  the  Lord's  table  is  a  work  which  re- 
quires time,  attention,  exertion.  Tliat  is 
enough;  that  proves  too  much  against  us  all. 
For  we  are  constrained  to  acknowledge,  that 
it  is  by  no  means  customary  among  us  to  re- 
tire for  meditation,  to  fast,  to  engage  in  pecu- 
liar acts  of  devotion,  on  the  days  which  pre- 
cede a  communion  solemnity.  It  is  no  unusual 
thing  to  see,  on  those  days,  at  man}'  of  our 
houses,  parties  formed,  social  festivity  going 
on:  in  tiiese  we  see  the  same  games,  the  same 
amusements,  the  same  dissipation,  as  at  otlier 
times.  I  have  reason  to  believe  tliat  in  other 
protestant  countries,  tiiough  the  same  corrup- 
tions but  too  universally  prevail,  I  believe, 
nevertheless,  that  such  days  are  there  distin- 
guished by  the  suspension  of  parties  of  pleasure, 
by  discontinuance  of  certain  practices,  perhaps 
abundantly  innocent  in  themselves,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  too  foreign  to  the  design  of  tiie 
holy  communion,  to  engage  our  attention, 
when  we  have  an  innnediale  ))rospect  of  par- 
taking of  it.  But  in  these  ])rovinces,  we  are 
so  far  from  coming  up  to  the  spirit  and  the 
truth  of  (Christianity,  the  exterior  order  and 
decency  of  it  are  hardly  observed. 

But  if  tiiis  reflection  be  iiisullicient  to  con- 
vince you  of  a  truth  so  mortifying,  as  that 
there  is  much  iniworliiy  connnunicaling  in  the 
midst  of  us;  think,  1  beseech  you,  on  the  slight- 
ness  of  the  changes  which  these  solemnities 
produce.  Here  is  the  touchstone;  this  is  the 
infallible  standard  by  which  to  determine  the 
interesting  question  under  discussion.  Four 
times  a  year  we  almost  all  of  us  come  to  the 
table  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  four  times  a 


year  we  partake  of  the  holy  sacrament  of  the 
supper;  four  times  a  year,  consequently,  this 
church  ought  to  assume  a  new  appearance; 
four  times  a  year  we  ought  to  see  multitudes 
of  new  converts.  But  do  we  see  them  of  a 
trutL'  Ah!  I  dare  not  dive  to  the  bottom  of 
this  mortifying  subject.  The  evil  is  but  too 
api)arent;  we  have  but  too  good  reason  to  al- 
lege, that  there  is  much  unworthy  communi- 
cating in  the  midst  of  us. 

It  is  with  you,  unhappy  professors  of  the 
Christian  name,  with  you  1  nmst  begin  the  ap- 
plic;ition  of  this  discourse:  with  you  who  have 
so  often  found  out  the  fi^tal  secret  of  drawing 
a  mortal  poison  from  that  sacred  table:  with 
you,  who  are,  by  and  by,  going  once  more 
perhaps  to  derive  a  curse  from  the  very  bosom 
of  benediction,  and  death  from  the  fountain 
of  life. 

Do  not  deceive  yourselves;  seek  not  a  dis- 
guise from  your  own  wretchedness;  think  not 
of  extenuating  the  apprehension  of  your  dan- 
ger; listen,  O  listen  to  the  fearful  threatenings 
denounced  by  the  prophet,  against  God's  an- 
cient people,  after  he  had  addressed  them  in 
the  words  of  the  text:  "  Cursed  be  tlie  deceiver 
which  ....  voweth  and  sacrificeth  unto  the 
Lord  a  corrupt  thing  ....  if  ye  will  not 
hear,  and  if  ye  will  not  lay  it  to  heart,  to  give 
glory  unto  my  name,  sailh  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
1  will  even  send  a  curse  upon  you,  and  I  will 
curse  your  blessings  ....  I  will  corrupt  your 
seed,  and  spread  dung  upon  your  faces,  even 
file  dung  of  your  solemn  feasts,"  chap.  i.  14; 
ii.  2,  3. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  infuse  not  poison 
into  your  wounds,  aggravate  not  the  image  of 
your  wretchedness,  but  attend  to  the  comforta- 
ble words,  which  immediately  follow  those  of 
my  text:  "  Now  I  pray  you,  beseech  God  that 
he  will  be  gracious  unto  us  ....  he  will  re- 
gard your  persons,"  ver.  9.  The  sentence  of 
your  condemnation  is  not  yet  executed:  the 
doom  of  death  which  has  been  pronounced 
against  you  is  not  irrevocable.  I  see  you  still 
blended  with  Christians  who  have  communi- 
cated worthily,  and  who  are  going  to  repeat 
that  delightful  service:  I  still  beliold  "  the 
riches  of  God's  goodness,  and  forbearance,  and 
long-suficring  ....  leading  you  to  repent- 
ance," Rom.  ii.  4,  and  you  may  still  become 
partakers  in  the  blessedness  of  this  day. 

You  must  have  recourse  to  that  same  Jesus 
whom  you  have  so  cruelly  insulted:  you  must 
be  covered  with  that  very  blood  which  you 
have  "  trampled  under  foot"  in  a  manner  so 
profane:  you  must  flee  and  take  refuge  under 
the  shadow  of  that  very  cross,  to  which  you 
was  going  to  nail  afresh  the  Lord  of  glory:  you 
must,  by  ardent  and  importunate  supplication, 
avert  the  thunderbolt,  which  is  ready  to  be 
launched  against  your  guilty  head;  "  O  Lord, 
rebuke  me  not  in  thy  wrath;  neither  chasten 
me  in  thy  hot  displeasure,"  Ps.  xxxviii.  1. 
"  Against  thee,  thee  only,  have  I  sinned,  and 
done  tliis  evil  in  tliy  sigiit;  ....  deliver  me 
Iroin  blood-guiltiness,  U  God,  thou  God  of  my 
salvation;  restore  unto  me  the  joy  of  thy  sal- 
vation; and  uphold  me  with  thy  free  Spirit," 
Ps.  Ii.  4.  14.  12. 

But,  above  all,  resolutions  sincere,  deter- 
minate, cflBcacious,  followed  up  by  oxecutiou 


Ser.  LXXVL] 


FOR  A  œMMUNION  SABBATH. 


199 


from  the  moment  yoti  retire  from  this  place  I  Hast  thou  exerted  thyself  to  the  uttermost,  to 
must  supply  the  want  of  preparation,  and  the    take  all  the  immeasurable  dimensions  of  the 


cominunicatinir  of  this  day  must  make  up  tlie 
defects  of  all  that  preceded  it.  And  if  God 
has  not  in  mercy  granted  you  such  dispositions 
as  these,  may  he  inspire  you,  at  least,  with  a 
resolution  not  to  a|>proach  his  table,  for  fear  of 
arminjr  his  rij^lit  hand  with  hotter  thunder- 
bolts to  crush  and  destroy  you!  or  rather,  may 
God  grant  you  those  happy  dispositions,  and 
graciously  accept  them  when  bestowed!  may 
it  please  God  to  be  disarmed  by  your  repent- 
ance, to  gatiier  up  your  tears,  to  regard  with 
an  eye  of  favour  your  efforts,  your  feeble  ef- 
forts! May  God  grant  your  absolution,  your 
salvation,  to  the  earnest  prayers  of  these  his 
faithful  servants,  or  rather,  to  tlio  all-powerful 
intercession  of  the  Redeemer,  unprotected  by 
which  the  most  eminent  of  saints  durst  not  lift 
up  their  eyes  to  heaven,  and  approach  the 
throne  of  the  divine  Majesty. 

2.  I  now  turn  to  you,  my  dearly  beloved 
brethren,  who,  while  you  rellcct  on  commu- 
nion seasons  past,  can  enjoy  the  testimony  of 
conscience,  that  you  drew  nigh  to  God  in  some 
state  of  preparation,  and  that  you  have  reason 
to  hope  for  a  repetition  of  the  same  felicity. 
This  ceremony  is  so  august;  the  mysteries 
which  it  unfolds,  arc  so  awful;  the  punishment 
denounced  against  those  who  profane  it,  is  so 
tremendous,  that  it  is  impossible  to  escape 
every  emotion  of  fear,  when  engaged  in  the 
celebration  of  it.  Study  to  be  sensible  of  your 
own  weakness.  Say,  in  tiie  language  of  re- 
pentance the  most  lively  and  sincere,  and  of 
humility  the  most  profound,  "  If  tiiou,  Lord, 
shouldst  mark  iniquities:  O  Lord,  who  shall 
stand?"  Ps.  c.\.\.x.  3.  "  O  Lord  God,  I  am  not 
worthy  of  the  least  of  all  the  mercies,  and  of 
all  the  truth  which  thou  hast  showed  unto  thy 
servant,"  Gen.  x.xxii.  10.  Stand  in  awe  of  the 
presence  of  the  majesty  of  God  Almiglity;  cry 
out  with  Jacob,  "  How  dreadful  is  this  place! 
this  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God,  and 
this  is  the  gate  of  heaven,"  Gen.  .\xvii.  17. 

But  while  you  render  unto  God,  the  homage 
of  holy  fear,  honour  him  likewise  with  that  of 
holy  confidence.  Think  not  that  he  loves  to 
be  always  viewed  as  "  the  great,  the  mighty, 
and  the  terrible  God,"  Neh.  i.Y.  32,  the  God 
who  "is  a  consuming  fire,"  Heb.  xii.  29.  He 
draws  nigh  to  you  in  this  ordinance,  not  with 
awful  manifestations  of  vengeance;  but  with 
all  the  attractions  of  his  grace,  with  all  the  gifts 
of  his  Spirit,  witii  all  the  demonstrations  of  his 
love.  Bow  down  over  the  mystical  ark,  to- 
gether with  the  celestial  intelligences,  and  ad- 
mire the  wonders  which  it  contains,  and  be- 
holding with  them  "  the  glory"  of  your  Re- 
deemer, with  them  cry  out,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy 
is  the  Lord  of  hosts;  the  whole  earth  is  full  of 
his  glory,"  Isa.  vi.  3. 

Study  to  know  and  to  feel  the  whole  extent 
of  your  felicity,  and  let  a  sense  of  the  benefits 
with  which  God  hath  loaded  thee,  kindle  the 
hallowed  flame  of  gratitude  in  your  hearts. 
"  Hast  thou  ever,  O  my  soul,  been  made  sensi- 
ble of  the  unbounded  nature  of  thy  bappinesa' 


love  of  God?  Hast  thou  reflected  profoundly, 
on  a  God  who  was  made  flesh,  who  rescues 
thee  from  everlasting  misery,  who  covers  thy 
per.son  with  his  own,  that  the  arrows  of  divine 
wrath  may  piefce  him  only,  without  reaching 
thee?  Hast  thou  seriously  considered,  that  if 
God  had  hurried  thee  out  of  the  world  in  a 
state  of  unrepentcd  guilt;  if  he  had  not  pluck- 
ed thee,  by  a  miracle  of  grace,  out  of  the  vor- 
tex of  human  things,  instead  of  being  surround- 
ed, as  now,  with  tiicsc  thy  fellow-believers  in 
Christ  Jesus,  thou  mightest  have  been  doomed 
to  the  society  of  demons;  instead  of  those  songs 
of  praise  to  which  thy  voice  is  now  attuned, 
thou  mightest  this  day  have  been  mingling 
thy  hovvliiigs  with  those  of  the  yictims,  whom 
the  wrath  of  God  is  immolating  in  the  regions 
of  despair.  Let  the  blessedness  which  God  ia 
accumulating  upon  us,  support  us  under  all  the 
ills  which  we  are  called  to  endure.  Our  life 
is  not  yet  concluded;  our  warfare  is  not  yet 
accomplished. 

We  are  about  to  return  into  the  world;  we 
have  still  difliculties  and  dangers  to  encounter, 
bitter  potions  to  swallow,  attlictions  to  suffer; 
especially  in  tiiis  age  of  fire  and  of  blood  so 
fatal  to  the  Christian  name.  But,  supported 
by  this  grace  of  God,  we  shall  be  able  to  resist 
and  to  overcome  the  most  violent  assaults. 

We  are  going  to  return  into  the  world, 
amidst  the  snares  of  the  wicked  one;  he  will 
still  aim  many  a  blow  at  our  souls;  this  flesh 
is  not  yet  entirely  mortified;  the  old  man  has 
not  yet  received  his  death's  wound;  evil  con- 
cupiscence is  not  yet  completely  extinguished; 
we  shall  fall  into  sin  again.  Humiliating  re- 
flection to  a  soul  which  this  day  places  all  its 
delight  in  being  united  unto  God!  But,  sup- 
ported by  tliis  peace  of  God,  we  shall  find  the 
means  of  remedying  the  weakness  with  which 
we  may  be  still  overtaken,  as  it  has  furnished 
the  means  of  deliverance  from  those  into  which 
we  had  already  fallen. 

We  are  going  to  return  into  the  world,  it  is 
high  time  to  think  of  our  departure  out  of  it. 
We  are  conversant  with  the  living;  we  must 
think  of  being  speedily  mingled  with  the  dead. 
We  yet  live;  we  must  die.  We  must  be  look- 
ing forward  to  those  mortal  agonies  which  are 
preparing;  to  that  bed  of  languishing  which  is 
already  spread;  to  that  funeral  procession 
which  is  marshalling  for  us.  But,  supported 
by  this  peace  of  God,  we  shall  be  more  than 
conquerors  in  all  these  conflicts:  with  "  the 
Spirit  of  him  who  hath  raised  up  Christ  from 
the  dead,"  we  shall  bid  defiance  to  all  the 
powers  of  "  the  king  of  terrors."  Jesus,  who 
"  hath  destroyed  him  who  had  the  power  of 
death,"  will  deliver  us  from  his  dominion. 
Through  that  gloomy  night  which  is  fast  ap- 
proaching, and  which  is  already  covering  our 
eyes  with  its  awful  shade,  we  shall  behold  the 
rays  of  "  the  Son  of  righteousness,"  and  their 
divine  light  shall  dissipate  to  us  all  the  horrors 
of"  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death."  Amen. 
To  God  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever.  Amen. 


200 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


[Ser.  LXXVII. 


SERMON  LXXVII. 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL 

PART  I. 


2  Cor.  xii.  2 — 4. 
I  knew  a  man  in   Christ  above  fourteen  years 
ago,  (whetlier  in  the  body,  I  cannot  tell;  or 
whether   out  of  the  body,   I  cannot  tell:   God 
knoweth;)  such  an  one  caught  up  to  the  third 
heaven.     Jind  1  knew  such  a  man,  (whether 
in  the  body,  or  out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell: 
God  knoweth;)  hotc  that  he  xcas  caught  iip  into 
paradise,  and  heard  uns])eakable  words,  which  it 
is  not  latcful  for  a  man  to  utter. 
Ir  there  be  a  passage  in  the  whole  Bible  ca- 
pable of  inflaming,  and  at  the  same  time  of 
baffling  human  curiosity,  it   is  that  which  I 
have  just  now  read.    I  do  not  mean  a  vain  and 
presumptuous   curiosity,    but   a   curiosity  ap- 
parently founded  on  reason  and  justice.     One 
of  the  principal  causes  of  our  want  of  ardour 
in  the   pursuit   of  heavenly  blessings,   is  our 
having  no  experienced  witness,  who,  after  hav- 
ing himself  tasted  the  sweetness  of  them,  con- 
veyed to  us  clear  and  distinct  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject.    It  is  a  difficult  matter  to   love  that  of 
which  we  have  no  knowledge. 

St.  Paul  seems  to  have  been  reserved  of  God 
to  supply  this  defect,  and  to  fill  up,  if  I  may 
use  the  expression,  tiiis  void  in  religion.  By  a 
supernatural  dispensation  of  grace,  he  passes 
into  the  other  world  before  death;  and  he  re- 
turns thence  before  the  general  resurrection. 
The  whole  church,  awakened  to  eager  atten- 
tion, calls  upon  him  for  a  detail  of  the  wonders 
of  the  world  unknown.  And  as  the  Israelites, 
after  having  despatched  spies  into  tiie  land  of 
promise,  burned  with  ardent  desire  to  see  and 
hear  them,  in  order  that  they  might  obtain  in- 
formation respecting  the  country,  whether  it 
merited  the  exertions  necessary  to  acquire  pos- 
session: in  like  manner,  the  Christian  world 
seems  to  flock  round  our  apostle,  in  earnest  ex- 
pectation of  being  informed  what  that  felicity 
is,  into  which  they  are  invited  to  enter  by  agate 
so  strait.  They  seem  with  one  accord  to  ask 
him:  What  did  you  hear?  What  did  you  see? 
in  the  view  of  determining,  upon  his  report, 
this  all  important  question,  whether  they  should 
still  persevere  in  their  exertions,  to  surrnount 
the  obstacles  which  they  have  to  encounter  in 
the  way  of  salvation,  or  whether  they  should 
relinquish  the  pursuit. 

But  St.  Paul  fulfils  not  this  expectation: 
he  maintains  a  profound  silence  respecting  the 
objects  which  had  been  presented  to  his  mind: 
he  speaks  of  his  rapture,  only  in  tlie  view  of 
confounding  those  false  teachers  who  took  upon 
them  to  set  at  nought  his  ministry:  and  all 
the  description  he  gives  of  paradise,  amounts 
to  no  more  than  a  declaration  of  his  own  utter 
inability  to  describe  what  ho  had  seen  and 
heard.  "  I  knew  a  man  in  Christ:  a  man  in 
Christ,"  that  is  to  say,  a  Christian,  and  by 
this  denomination  the  apostle  is  characteriz- 
ing himself,  "  I  knew  a  man  in  Ciirist  above 
fourteen  years  ago,  (whether  in  the  body,  I 
cannot  tell:   or  whether  out  of  the  body,  I 


cannot  tell:  God  knoweth;)  such  an  one 
caught  up  to  the  tiiird  heaven.  And  1  knew 
such  a  man,  (wlielher  in  the  body,  or  out  of 
the  body,  1  cannot  tell:  God  knoweth;)  how 
that  ho  was  caught  up  into  paradise,  and  heard 
unspeakable  words,  which  it  is  not  lawful  for  a 
man  to  utter." 

We  propose  in  the  following  discourse,  my 
brethren,  to  attem|)t  a  solution  of  tiie  diffi- 
culty which  arises  from  this  silence  of  the  apos- 
tle. We  propose  to  discuss  this  singular,  but 
interesting  question;  Wherefore  is  the  celes- 
tial felicity  "  unspeakable?"  Wlierefore  should 
it  be  unlawful  for  a  man  to  utter  it'  We 
shall  begin  with  some  elucidation  of  the  ex- 
pressions of  our  text,  inquiring,  1.  Into  the 
era  to  which  reference  is  here  made;  "  I  knew 
a  man  in  Christ  above  fourteen  years  ago." 
2.  By  considering  what  is  said  respecting  the 
manner  of  this  rapture;  "  Whether  in  the 
body,  I  cannot  tell;  or  whether  out  of  the  body 
I  cannot  tell:  God  knoweth."  3.  What  we 
are  to  understand  by  paradise,  and  the  third 
heaven.  4.  Finally,  VVhat  ideas  we  are  to 
affix  to  those  -unspeakable  words  to  which  our 
apostle  alludes  in  the  text;  and  these  will  consti- 
tute the  first  general  division  of  our  subject. 

But  in  the  second,  which  we  have  princi- 
pally in  view,  we  shall  examine  the  point  al- 
ready indicated,  by  inquiring,  whether  the  si- 
lence of  Scripture  respecting  a  state  of  future 
happiness,  suggests  any  thing  tending  to  cool 
our  ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  it:  we  shall  en- 
deavour to  make  you  sensible,  that  nothing  is 
so  much  calculated  to  convey  lofty  ideas  of 
the  paradise  of  God,  as  tliat  very  veil  which 
conceals  it  from  our  eyes.  If  you  fully  enter 
into  the  great  aim  and  end  of  this  discourse, 
it  will  produce  on  your  minds  those  effects  to 
which  all  our  exhortations,  all  our  importuni- 
ties are  adapted,  namely,  to  kindle  in  your 
hearts  an  ardent  desire  to  go  to  God;  to  put 
into  your  mouths  that  exclamation  of  the 
psalmist:  "  How  great  is  thy  goodness,  O  God, 
which  thou  hast  laid  up  for  them  that  fear 
thee!"  Ps.  xxxi.  19;  to  place  you  in  the  very 
situation  of  our  apostle,  who  after  having  been 
"  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven,"  could  no 
longer  endure  to  live  upon  the  earth,  had  his 
eyes  opened  to  every  path  that  led  to  death, 
could  talk  no  more  of  any  thing  but  of  dy- 
ing, "  but  of  finishing  his  course,"  2  Tim.  iv. 
■7,  but  of  being  "  absent  from  the  body,"  2  Cor. 
v.  8,  but  of  departing,  but  of  "  being  with  Clirist, 
which  was  to  him  far  better,"  Phil.  i.  23. 

I.  We  begin  with  some  elucidation  of  the 
expressions  of  the  text,  and  of  these, 

1 .  The  first  refers  to  the  era  of  St.  Paul's 
rapture,  I  knew  a  man  in  Christ  "  above  four- 
teen years  ago."  But  were  we  to  enter  into  a 
complete  discussion  of  this  question,  it  would 
occupy  much  more  time  than  is  allotted  for  the 
whole  of  our  present  exercise.  Never  had 
preacher  a  fairer  opportunity  of  wasting  an 
liour  to  his  hearers,  in  useless  investigation, 
and  impertinent  quotations.  We  could  easily 
supply  you  with  an  ample  list  of  the  opinions 
of  interpreters,  and  of  the  reasons  adduced  by 
each,  in  support  of  his  own.  We  could  tell 
you,  first,  how  it  is  alleged  by  some  that  these 
fourteen  years  denote  the  time  elapsed  from  the 
conversion  of  St.  Paul;  and  that  bis  rapture 


Ser.  LXXVII.] 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


201 


took  place  during  those  three  days  in  whicli  "  he 
was  without  siglit,  and  did  neitlicr  eat  nor 
drink,"  Acta  ix.  9.,  and  to  lliis  purpose  wo 
could  quote  (^apel,  Lira,  Cave,  Tostat,  and 
many  other  authors,  unknown  to  the  greater 
part  of  my  audience. 

We  niigiit  add,  that  some  other  commenta- 
tors refer  this  epoch  to  the  eighth  year  after 
St.  Paul's  conversion  to  Christianity,  the  forty- 
fourth  of  Jesufl  Ciirist,  and  the  twelfth  after 
his  deatli. 

We  could  show  you  how  others  insist,  with 
a  greater  air  of  prohability,  that  tiie  apostle 
enjoyed  this  heavenly  vision,  when,  after  his 
contention  with  Barnabas,  huniiliating  instance 
of  the  inhrmity  of  the  greatest  saints,  he  pro- 
secuted his  ministry  in  a  ditierent  track.  Tiiose 
who  adopt  this  opinion,  allege,  in  support  of  it, 
the  words  of  St.  Paul  in  chap.  xxii.  of  the 
Acts,  ver.  17.  "  It  came  to  pass,  that  when  1 
was  come  again  to  Jerusalem,  even  while  1 
prayed  in  the  temple,  I  was  in  a  trance."  But 
disquisitions  of  this  sort  are  unworthy  of  the 
place  which  I  now  have  the  honour  to  fill.  I 
have  matters  of  much  higher  importance  to 
propose  to  you. 

2.  The  manner  of  St.  Paul's  rapture  stands 
in  need,  perhaps,  of  some  elucidation.  He  has 
expressed  it  in  terms  very  much  calculated  to 
check  curiosity.  "  Whether  in  the  body  1  can- 
not tell:  or  whether  out  of  the  body  1  cannot 
tell."  We,  accordingly,  presume  not  to  pur- 
sue researches  on  points  respecting  which  the 
apostle  himself  prolesses  ignorance. 

Let  it  only  be  remarked,  that  God  was  pleas- 
ed, in  former  times,  to  manifest  himself  in  many 
different  manners.  Sometimes  it  was  by  a 
voice:  witness  that  which  issued  out  of  the 
cloud,  Exod.  xvi.  10;  witness  that  whicii  ad- 
dressed Moses  from  the  burning  bush,  Ex.  iii. 
4;  witness  that  which  thundered  from  Mount 
Sinai  at  the  giving  of  the  law,  E.\od.  xix.  16; 
witness  that  which  answered  Job  out  of  the 
whirlwind,  chap,  xxxviii.  1;  witness  that  from 
above  the  mercy-seat,  E.\od.  xxv.  22. 

He  was  pleased  at  other  times,  to  reveal 
himself  in  dreams  and  visions  of  the  night:  as 
to  Jacob  at  Bethel,  Gen.  xxviii.  12:  to  Abime- 
lech.  Gen.  xx.  3;  and  to  Pharoali's  butler,  Gen. 
xl.  9. 

He  sometimes  manifested  himself  in  visions 
to  persons  awake.  Thus  he  presented  to  Moses 
in  Horeb  a  bush  burning  witli  fire  yet  uncon- 
sumed,  Exod.  iii.  4:  to  Balaam,  an  angel  with 
his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand.  Num.  xxii.  32; 
to  Joshua,  the  captain  of  the  Lord's  host,  Josh. 
V.  15. 

He  sometimes  communicated  himself  to  men 
through  the  medium  of  inspiration,  accompa- 
nied with  emotions  which  constrained  them 
to  speak  out.  This  was  the  case  with  Jere- 
miah, as  we  read,  chap.  xx.  8,  9,  "  The  word 
of  the  Lord  was  made  a  reproach  unto  mo,  and 
a  derision  daily.  Then  I  said,  1  will  not  make 
mention  of  him,  nor  speak  any  more  in  his 
name.  But  his  word  was  in  nnne  heart  as  a 
burning  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones,  and  I  was 
weary  with  forbearing." 

But  of  all  those  miraculous   dispensations, 

the  most  noble  and  exalted  was  tliat  of  rapture 

or  ecstacy.     By  the  term  ecstacy  we  mean  that 

powerful  conflict,  that  concentralioh  of  thought. 

Vol.  IL— 26 


that  profound  intenscncss  of  mental  applica- 
tion, under  tlio  influence  of  which  the  enrap- 
tured person  is  emancipated  from  the  commu- 
nications of  the  senses,  forgets  his  body,  and  is 
conijdetely  absorbed  by  the  object  of  his  medi- 
tation. 

licipture  is  perhaps  a  degree  superior  to  ecstacy. 
Sometimes  it  affects  the  mind.  Tliis  is  the  case 
when  God,  in  virtue  of  that  sovereign  power 
which  he  possesses  over  the  soul  of  man,  e.x- 
cites  in  it  the  same  ideas,  causes  it  to  perceive 
the  same  objects,  with  wliich  it  would  be  struck, 
were  the  body,  to  which  it  is  united,  really  in 
a  place  from  whence  it  is  extremely  remote. 
It  is  thus  that  we  must  explain  the  rapture  of 
the  pro|)het  ICzckiel,  chap.  viii.  3;  and  tliat  of 
which  St.  John  speaks  in  the  book  of  Reve- 
lation, chap.  i.  10. 

It  sometimes  affect."  the  body.  This  was  the 
case  of  Philip,  who,  after  he  had  converted  to 
tlie  faith  of  Christ  the  eunuch  of  Candace, 
queen  of  the  Ethiopians,  and  baptized  him,  was 
"caught  away  by  tlie  spirit  of  the  Lord,  that 
the  euimch  saw  him  no  more,"  Acts  viii.  39. 

Though  St.  Paul  has  spoken  very  sparingly 
of  the  manner  in  which  God  was  pleased  to 
reveal  himself  to  him,  he  has  said  enough  to 
show  that  it  is  holy  rapture  he  means.  But 
whether  it  were  that  which  transported  the 
body  into  another  place,  or  that  which  trans- 
ported the  mind  only:  nay,  whether  there  be  a 
real  difference  between  rapture  and  ecstacy,  no 
one  can  pretend  to  determine,  witiiout  incur- 
ring the  charge  of  presumption.  Tlie  apostle 
himself  declares  tliat  it  surpassed  his  own 
knowledge;  "  whether  in  the  body,  I  cannot 
tell;  or  wliether  out  of  the  body,  1  cannot  tell: 
God  knoweth,  such  an  one  caught  up  to  the 
third  heaven caught  up  into  paradise." 

3.  The  third  heaven,  paradise:  another  sub- 
ject of  elucidation.  The  third  heaven  is  the 
habitation  of  the  blessed;  that  in  which  God 
displays  the  most  splendid  and  glorious  tokens 
of  his  presence:  this  is  disputed  by  no  one. — 
But  the  other  expression  employed  by  St.  Paul, 
"  caught  up  into  paradise,"  has  furnished  mat- 
ter for  controversy  among  the  learned.  It  has 
long  been  made  a  question  whether  paradise 
and  the  third  heaven  denote  one  and  the  same 
place.  Certain  modern  interpreters  have  main- 
tained the  negative,  with  excessive  warmth. 
A  great  number  of  the  ancient  fathers  had 
adopted  the  same  opinion.  They  considered 
paradise  as  a  mansion  in  which  the  soul  resided 
till  the  resurrection,  and  they  distinguished  it 
from  heaven.  Justin  Martyr,  disi)uling  witli 
Tryphon,  condemns,  as  equally  erroneous,  the 
denying  of  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection, 
and  the  opinion  which  supposes  that  the  souls 
of  men  go  to  God  immediately  after  death.  In 
this  they  follow  the  prejudices  of  the  Jews. — 
Many  of  them  believe  that  tlie  souls  of  good 
people  are  translated  to  the  garden  of  Eden, 
to  wait  for  the  day  of  the  resurrection:  they 
accordingly  employ  tliis  form  of  prayer  for  dy- 
ing persons:  "  May  his  soul  be  received  into 
the  garden  of  Eden;  may  he  have  his  part  m 
paradise;  may  he  repose,  and  sleep  in  peace  till 
the  coming  of  the  Comforter,  who  shall  speak 
peace  to  the  fathers.  O  ye  to  whom  the  trea- 
sures of  paradise  are  committed,  open  now  its 
gates  that  he  may  enter  in." 


202 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


[Slr.  LXXVII. 


But  this  error,  liowever  lon^  it  may  have 
subsisted,  and  by  whatever  great  names  it  may 
have  been  inaintuiaed,  is  nevertheless  an  error, 
as  might  be  demonstrated  by  more  arguments 
than  wo  have  now  leisure  to  adduce.  You 
liavo  only  to  read  the  prayer  which  Jesus  Christ 
addressed  to  his  father  a  little  before  his  death, 
where  you  will  find  him  demanding  immediate 
admission  into  the  heavenly  felicity.  He  says, 
likewise,  to  the  penitent  thief  on  the  cross, 
"  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  to-day  thou  shalt  be 
with  mo  in  paradise,"  Luke  .\.\iii.  4;5.  Para- 
dise, therefore,  is  the  place  in  which  God  dis- 
plays the  most  august  symbols  of  his  presence, 
and  is  not  dilfcrcnt  from  the  tliird  heaven. 

Now,  if  it  be  asked,  why  this  name  is  given 
to  the  third  heaven,  it  will  be  necessary  to  recur 
to  its  first  original.  Persons  who  have  applied 
to  the  dry  study  of  etymology  assure  us  that 
the  word  is  of  Persian  extraction,  and  that  the 
Persians  gave  the  name  of  paradise  to  the  ])arks 
and  gardens  of  their  kings.  It  came  in  process 
of  time  to  denote  all  places  of  a  similar  de- 
scription. It  passed  from  the  Persians  to  the 
Greeks,  to  the  Hebrews,  to  the  Latins.*  We 
find  it  employed  in  this  sense  in  Nchemiah  ii. 
8,  in  Ecclesiastes  ii.  5,  in  many  profane  au- 
thors; and  the  Jews  gave  this  name  to  the  çrar- 
den  of  Eden  in  which  Adam  was  placed.  You 
will  find  it  in  the  second  chapter  of  the  book 
of  Genesis.  But  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  has  been  suggested  on  this  head. 

4.  There  is  but  one  particular  more  that  re- 
quires some  elucidation.  "  I  knew  a  man," 
adds  the  apostle,  "  who  heard  unsjieakable 
words,  which  it  is  not  lawful  for  a  man  to  ut- 
ter." To  see  things,  and  to  hear  %vords,  are,  in 
the  stylo  of  the  sacred  writers,  frequently  used 
as  phrases  of  similar  import,  and  it  is  not  on 
this  ground  that  the  dili'icully  of  the  present 
article  presses.  But,  what  can  be  the  meaning 
of  the  apostle,  when  he  asserts  that  the  words 
which  lie  hoard,  or  the  things  which  he  saw, 
"  are  unspeakable,"  and  "  which  it  is  not  law- 
ful for  a  man  to  utter?"  Had  he  been  laid  un- 
der a  prohibition  to  reveal  the  particulars  of  his 
vision?  Had  ho  lost  the  ideas  of  it?  Or  were 
the  things  which  ho  heard  and  saw  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  be  absolutely  inexpressible  by 
mortal  lip&'  There  is  some  plausible  reason- 
ing that  may  be  employed  in  support  of  each 
ofthe  three  opinions. 

Tho  first  has  numerous  partisans.  Their 
belief  is  that  God  had  revealed  mysteries  to 
St.  Paul,  but  with  a  prohibition  to  disclose  tliem 
to  the  world;  they  believe  that  the  apostle,  after 
having  been  rapt  into  the  third  heaven,  had 
received  a  charge  similar  to  that  which  was 
given  to  St.  John,  in  a  like  situation,  and  which 
is  transmitted  to  us  in  chap.  x.  of  the  book  of 
Revelation,  4th  verso,  "  Seal  up  those  things 
which  the  seven  thunders  uttered,  and  write 
them  not."  Thus  it  was  that  the  [)agans  de- 
nominated certain  of  their  mysteries  ineffable, 
because  it  was  forbidden  to  reveal  tiiom.  Thus, 
too,  the  Jews  called  the  name  of  Jehovah  in- 
effable, because  it  was  unlawful  to  pronounce  it. 
The  second  opinion  is  not  destitute  of  pro- 
bability. As  the  soul  of  St.  Paul  had  no  sen- 
sible intercourse  with  his  body,  during  this  rap- 

*  PoUux  Ooomait, 


ture,  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the  objects  which 
struck  him,  having  left  no  trace  in  the  brain, 
he  lost  the  recollection  of  a  great  part  of  what 
he  liad  seen. 

But  we  are  under  no  obligation  to  restrict 
ourselves  to  either  oftlic.se  senses.  The  words 
of  tho  original  translated  "  unspeakable,  which 
it  is  not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter,"  frequently 
denote  that  which  is  not  of  a  nature  to  be  e.\- 
plained:  thus  it  is  said,  that  "  the  Spirit  maketh 
intercession  for  us,  with  groanings  which  can- 
not be  uttered,"  Rom.  viii.  26.  Thus,  too,  St. 
Peter  mentions  a  "joy  imspeakable  and  full  of 
glory,"  chap.  i.  8.,  and  we  shall  presently  see 
that  the  heavenly  felicity  is,  in  this  sense,  un- 
speakable. 

Again,  among  those  who  have  pursued  re- 
searches, respecting  the  things  which  St.  Paul 
declares  to  be  ttnspcakahle,  some  have  pretend- 
ed to  tell  us,  that  he  means  the  divine  essence: 
others,  that  it  was  the  hierarchal  order  of  the 
celestial  intelligences;  others,  that  it  was  the 
beauty  and  e.vcellency  of  glorified  souls;  others, 
tlial  it  was  the  mystery  of  the  rejection  of  the 
.Tewish  nation,  and  of  the  calling  of  the  Gen- 
tiles; others,  that  it  was  the  destination  of  the 
Christian  church  through  its  successive  periods. 
But  wherefore  should  we  attempt  to  affix  pre- 
cise limits  to  the  things  which  our  apostle  heard 
and  saw?  He  was  rapt  up  to  the  very  seat  of 
the  blessed;  and  he  there,  undoubtedly,  par- 
took of  the  felicity  which  they  enjoy. 

Had  men  employed  their  iina^ination  only 
on  the  discussion  of  this  question,  no  great 
harm  could  have  ensued.  But  it  is  impossible 
to  behold,  without  indignation,  the  inventors 
of  fictitious  pieces  carrying  their  insolence  so 
far,  as  to  forge  writings,  which  they  ascribed 
to  the  Spirit  of  God  hiniself,  and  in  which  they 
pretended  those  mysteries  were  explained.  St. 
Epiphanius  relates,*  that  certain  ancient  here- 
tics, these  were  the  Gaiauiles  or  Cainites,  had 
invented  a  book  w-hich  was  afterwards  adopted 
by  the  Gnostics.  They  gave  it  the  name  of 
The  ^IseenMon  of  St.  Paul,  and  presume  to  al- 
lege, that  this  book  discovered  what  those  "  un- 
speakable things"  were,  which  the  apostle  had 
heard. f  St.  Augustine  speaks  of  the  same 
work,  as  a  gross  imposture.  Nicephorus  tells 
us,|  that  a  story  was  current,  under  the  empe- 
ror Theodosius,  of  the  discovery,  in  the  house 
of  St.  Paul  at  Tarsus,  of  a  marble  chest,  buried 
in  the  earth,  and  which  contained  the  .ipoca- 
liipse  of  St.  Paul.  Ho  himself  refutes  this  fic- 
tion, by  the  testimony  of  a  man  of  Tarsus,  a 
member  of  the  Presbytery. 

The  impostor,  who  is  the  author  of  the  work 
ascribed  to  Dionysius  tho  Areopagite,  and  who 
ffives  himself  out  as  that  illustrious  proselyte 
of  our  apostle,  boasts  of  his  having  heard  him 
relate  wondorfiil  things  respecting  tho  nature, 
the  glory,  tho  gifts,  the  beauty  ot  angels;  and 
upon  this  testimony  it  is  that  he  founds  tho 
chimerical  idea  which  ho  has  given  us  of  the 
celestial  hierarchy.  * 

l!ut  let  us  have  done  with  all  these  frivolous 
conjectures,  with  all  these  impious  fictions. 
We  are  going  to  ])roposo  much  nobler  objects 
to  your  meditation,  and  to  examine,  as  has 


*  Hiere».  3«._  t  Trcaliw  96.  on  St.  John. 

(  Hist,  lùcclù.  lib.  111.  cap.  34. 


Ser.  LXXVII.] 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


203 


been  said,  this  singular,  but  interesting  ques- 
tion, Wlicrefure  is  tiie  celestial  çlory  of'sucli  a 
nature  as  to  defy  description?  Wliy  is  it  "  not 
lawful  for  a  man  to  utter  tlieni?"  We  arc  go- 
ing to  avail  ourselves  of  this  very  inability  to 
describe  these  gloriously  unspeakable  things,  as 
the  means  of  conveying  to  you  exalted  ideas 
of  tlieui,  and  of  kindling  in  your  souls  more 
ardent  desires  after  the  possession  of  them. 
This  shall  be  tiio  subject  of  the  second  part  of 
our  discourse. 

SERMON  LXXVII. 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 
PART  II. 


2  Cor.  xii.  2 — 1. 
I  knew  a  man  in  Clirist  above  fourteen  years  ago, 
(whilher  in  the  body  I  cannot  tell;  or  triicther 
out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell:  God  knotctth;) 
such  an  one  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven. 
And  I  kneio  such  a  man,  (whether  in  the  body, 
or  out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell:  Godknoxceth;) 
how  that  he  was  caught  up  iiito  paradise,  and 
heard  unspeakable  words,  which  it  is  not  laieful 
for  a  man  to  utter. 

Having  presented  you  with  some  brief  eluci- 
dations of  the  expressions  of  the  te.it,  namely, 
1.  Respecting  the  era  to  which  reference  is 
here  made;  "  I  knew  a  man  in  Christ  above 
fourteen  years  ago:"  2.  Respecting  the  manner 
of  his  rapture;  "  whether  in  the  body,  I  cannot 
tell:  or  out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell:  God 
knoweth:"  3.  Respecting  the  place  to  which 
Paul  was  caught;  "  paradise,  the  third  hea- 
ven:" and,  4.  Respecting  what  he  there  saw 
and  heard;  "  unspeakable  words,  which  it  is 
not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter:"  we  proceed  to, 
n.  The  second  general  head,  namely,  to  in- 
quire, whether  the  silence  of  Scripture  on  tiie 
subject  of  a  state  of  future  happiness,  suggests 
any  tiling  that  has  a  tendency  to  cool  our  ar- 
dour in  the  pursuit  of  it;  or,  wliether  this  very 
veil,  which  conceals  the  paradise  of  God  from 
our  eyes,  is  not  above  all  things  calculated  to 
convey  the  most  exalted  ideas  of  it. 

We  refer  the  felicity  of  the  blessed  in  hea- 
ven to  three  general  notions.  Tiie  blessed  in 
heaven  possess,  1.  Superior  illumination:  2. 
They  are  prompted  by  inclinations  tiie  most  no- 
ble and  refined:  3.  They  enjoy  the  purest  sensi- 
ble pleasures.  A  defect  of  genius  jirevents  our 
ability  to  partake  of  their  illumination;  a  de- 
fect of  taste  prevents  our  adopting  their  incli- 
nations; a  defect  of  faculty  prevents  our  per- 
ception of  their  pleasures.  In  these  three  re- 
spects, the  celestial  felicity  is  "  unspeakable:" 
in  these  three  respects,  "  it  is  not  lawful  for  a 
man  to  utter  it." 

1.  The  blessed  in  heaven  possess  superior 
illumination:  a  defect  of  genius  prevents  our 
participation  of  it. 

While  we  are  in  this  world,  we  are  deficient 
in  many  ideas.  Properly  speaking,  we  iiave 
ideas  of  two  kinds  only:  that  of  body,  and  tiiat 
of  spirit.  The  combination  of  those  two  ideas 
forms  all  our  perceptions,  all  our  speculations, 
the  whole  body  of  our  knowledge.    And  what- 


ever cflurls  may  have  been  made  by  certain 
philosopliers  to  prove  that  we  are  acquainted 
with  beings  intermediate  between  mind  and 
matter,  they  have  never  been  able  to  persuade 
others  of  it,  and  probably  entertained  no  such 
I)crsuasion  themselves.  But  if  all  beings  which 
are  within  the  sphere  of  our  knowledge  be  re- 
ferrible  to  these  two  ideas,  where  is  the  person 
who  is  bold  ciiough  to  atlirm,  that  there  are  in 
fact  no  ollier.s?  Where  is  the  man  who  dares 
to  maintain,  that  the  creation  of  bodies,  and 
that  of  spirits,  have  exhausted  the  omnipotence 
of  the  Creator?  Who  shall  presume  to  affirm, 
that  this  infinite  intelligence,  to  whom  the  uni- 
verse is  indebted  for  its  existence,  could  find 
only  two  ideas  in  his  treasures? 

May  it  not  be  possible  that  the  blessed  in 
heaven,  liave  the  idea  of  certain  beings  which 
possess  no  manner  of  relation  to  any  thing  of 
which  we  have  a  conception  upon  eartk'  May 
it  not  bo  possible  that  God  impressed  this  idea 
on  tlie  soul  of  St.  Paul'  May  not  this  be  one 
of  the  reasons  of  the  impossibility  to  which  he 
is  reduced,  of  describing  what  he  had  seen? 
For  when  we  speak  to  other  men,  we  go  on  the 
supposition  that  they  have  souls  similar  to  our 
own,  endowed  witii  the  same  faculties,  enriched 
with  tlic  same  sources  of  thought.  We  possess 
certain  signs,  certain  words  to  express  our  con- 
ceptions. We  oblige  our  fellow  men  to  retire 
witiiin  the:nselvcs,  to  follow  up  their  principles, 
to  examine  their  notions.  It  is  thus  we  are 
enabled  to  communicate  our  notions  to  each 
other.  But  this  is  absolutely  impracticable 
witii  regard  to  tliose  beings  who  may  be  known 
to  the  blessed  above.  There  is  in  this  respect, 
no  notion  in  common  to  us  and  them.  We 
have  no  term  by  which  to  express  them.  God 
himself  alone  has  the  power  of  impressing  new 
ideas  on  the  soul  of  man.  All  that  men  can 
do  is  to  render  us  attentive  to  those  which  we 
already  have,  and  to  assist  us  in  unfolding 
them. 

Besides,  so  long  as  w^e  are  upon  earth,  wo 
liave  but  a  very  imperfect  knowledge  of  the 
two  orders  of  beings,  to  which  all  our  know- 
ledge is  confined.  Our  ideas  are  incomplete. 
Wo  have  only  a  very  imperfect  perception  of 
body,  and  of  spirit.     We  have, 

1.  Very  imperfect  ideas  of  body.  And  with- 
out entering  licre  into  the  discussion  of  the 
endless  metaphysical  questions  of  which  the 
subjects  admit,  and,  in  order  to  convey  an  ex- 
ample of  it,  brought  down  to  the  level  of  the 
meanest  capacity,  the  magnitude  of  bodies,  and 
their  smallness,  almost  equally  exceed  our  com- 
prehension. We  begin  with  forming  to  our- 
selves the  idea  of  a  portion  of  matter;  we  di- 
vide it  into  minute  particles;  we  reduce  it  to 
powder,  till  the  particles  become  entirely  im- 
percej)tible  to  our  senses.  When  the  senses 
fail,  we  have  recourse  to  imagination.  Wo 
subdivide,  in  imagination,  that  same  portion  of 
matter,  particle  after  particle,  till  it  is  reduced 
to  such  a  degree  of  minuteness,  as  to  escape 
imagination,  as  it  had  eluded  the  senses.  After 
the  senses  and  the  imagination  have  been 
sti-etched  to  the  uttermost,  we  call  in  thought 
to  our  aid;  we  consult  the  idea  which  we  have 
of  matter;  we  subject  it  to  a  new  subdivision 
in  thought.  Thought  transcends  imagination 
and  the  senses.    But  after  having  pursued  it  to 


204 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


[Ser.  LXXVII. 


a  certain  point,  we  find  tliought  absorbed  in  its 
turn,  and  we  feel  ourselves  equally  lost,  whether 
we  arc  disposed  to  admit  an  infiiiilo  [jfogression 
in  this  division,  or  whether  we  are  disposed  to 
stop  at  a  certain  determinate  point. 

What  we  have  said  of  the  smalhiess  of  bo- 
dies, holds  equally  true  of  their  immensity  of 
magnitude.  We  are  able,  witii  the  lielp  of  the 
senses  of  the  imagination,  and  of  thought,  to 
increase  a  mass  of  matter,  to  suppose  it  still 
greater,  to  conceive  it  still  exceeding  the  for- 
mer magnitude.  But  after  we  have  acted,  ima- 
gined, reflected;  and,  after  we  have  risen  in 
thought  to  a  certain  degree  of  extension,  were 
we  disjjosed  to  go  on  to  the  concejition  of  one 
still  greater,  we  should  at  length  feel  ourselves 
absorbed  in  the  inconceivable  magnitude  of 
matter,  as  it  liad  eluded  our  pursuit  by  its  mi- 
nuteness. So  incomplete  are  our  ideas  even  of 
matter.     And  if  so,  then, 

2.  How  much  more  imperfect  still  is  our 
knowledge  of  what  relates  to  mind!  Who  ever 
presumed  to  unfold  all  that  a  spirit  is  capable 
of.'  Who  has  ever  determined  the  connexion 
which  subsists  within  us,  between  the  faculty 
which  feels,  and  that  which  reflects?  Who  has 
ever  discovered  the  manner  in  which  one  spirit 
is  enabled  to  communicate  its  feelings  and  re- 
flections to  another?  Who  has  formed  a  con- 
ception of  the  means  by  which  a  spirit  becomes 
capable  of  acting  ui)on  a  body,  and  a  body  upon 
a  spirit?  It  is  to  me  then  demonstrably  certain, 
that  we  know  but  in  an  imperfect  manner,  the 
very  things  of  which  we  have  any  ideas  at  all. 

The  blessed  in  heaven  have  complete  ideas 
of  these;  they  penetrate  into  the  minutest  parti- 
cles of  matter;  they  discern  all  the  wonders,  all 
the  latent  springs,  all  the  subtility  of  the  small- 
est parts  of  the  body,  which  contain  worlds  in 
miniature,  an  epitome  of  the  great  universe, 
and  not  less  calculated  to  excite  admiration  of 
the  wisdom  of  the  Creator:*  they  traverse  that 
immensity  of  space,  those  celestial  globes,  those 
immeasurable  spheres,  the  existence  of  which 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  call  in  question,  but 
whose  enormous  mass  and  countless  nmltitude 
confound  and  overwhelm  us.  The  blessed  in 
heaven  know  the  nature  of  spirits,  their  facul- 
ties, their  relations,  their  intercourse,  their  laws. 
But  all  this  is  inexplicable.  Is  any  one  capable 
of  changing  our  senses?  Is  any  one  capable  of 
giving  a  more  extensive  range  to  our  imagina- 
tion? Is  it  possible  to  remove  the  barriers  which 
limit  tiiought? 

While  we  arc  on  the  earth,  we  discern  but  very 
imperfectly  the  relations  which  subsist  even  be- 
tween the  things  wliicli  we  do  know.  Contract- 
ed, incomplete  as  our  ideas  are,  we  should,  ne- 
vertheless, make  some  i)rogress  in  our  research- 
es after  truth,  had  we  the  power  of  reflecting, 
of  recollection,  of  fixing  our  attention  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  of  comparing  beings  with  each 
other,  and  thus  advancing  from  those  which 
we  already  know,  to  those  with  which  we  are 
hitherto  uuaciiuaiiitcd.  Men  arc  more  or  less 
intelligent,  according  as  they  arc  in  the  habit 
of  being  more  or  less  attentive.  A  man  brought 
up  in   the  midst  of  noise,  in  tumult;  a   man 

*  For  a  farlhtr  illuslrali.m  of  (li;<i  part  of  tlic  »ul>j.cl, 
the  Fhilnsnpliiral  and  Clirisliim  reader  is  riftrreJ  to  ilic 
1,1-Uer»  of  KuW-r  to  a  (Jcrman  Triuccss,  Letter  1.  vol.  i. 
publiilicd  by  the  Translator  of  this  volume,  1794. 


whom  tumult  and  noise  pursue  wherever  he 
goes,  is  incapable  of  composed  recollection, 
because  carrying  always  in  himself  a  source  of 
distraction,  he  becomes  incapable  of  profound 
reflection  upon  any  one  object  abstracted  from 
and  unconnected  with  matter.  But  a  philoso- 
pher accustomed  to  meditate,  is  able  to  follow 
up  a  principle  to  a  degree  totally  inaccessible 
to  the  other.  Nevertheless,  whatever  a  man's 
attainments  may  be  in  the  art  of  attention,  it 
must  always  be  contracted  within  very  narrow 
limits;  because  we  still  consist  in  part,  of  body; 
because  this  body  is  ever  exciting  sensations  in 
the  soul;  because  the  soul  is  continually  dis- 
tracted by  these  sensations;  because  that,  in  or-  ' 
der  to  meditate,  there  is  occasion  for  a  great 
concourse  of  the  spirits  necessary  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  body,  so  that  attention  wearied  out, 
exhausted,  does  violence  to  that  body;  to  such 
a  degree,  that  if,  by  the  aid  of  an  extraordina- 
ry concourse  of  spirits,  we  should  be  disposed 
to  exert  the  brain  beyond  a  certain  pitch,  the 
effort  would  prove  fatal  to  us. 

The  blessed  in  heaven  are  not  liable  to  have 
their  attention  disturbed  by  the  action  of  the 
senses.  St.  Paul,  by  means  of  a  supernatural 
interposition,  had  his  soul,  if  not  separated 
from  the  body  (for  he  himself  knows  not 
whether  his  rapture  were  in  the  body,  or  out  of 
the  body,)  at  least  emancipated  from  that  con- 
tinual distraction  to  which  it  is  subject,  in  vir- 
tue of  its  union  with  matter.  He  could  be 
self-collected,  attentive,  absorbed  of  the  ob- 
jects which  God  presented  to  his  mind.  He 
could  discern  the  mutual  relation  of  the  de- 
signs of  eternal  wisdom,  the  harmony  of  the 
works  of  God,  the  concatenation  of  his  pur- 
poses, the  combination  of  his  attributes;  sub- 
lime objects  which  he  could  not  possibly  dis- 
play to  men  incapable  of  that  degree  of  atten- 
tion, without  which  no  conception  can  be  form- 
ed of  those  objects. 

Does  not  this  first  reason,  my  beloved  bre- 
thren, of  our  apostle's  silence  on  the  subject  of 
the  heavenly  felicity,  already  produce  on  your 
souls,  the  etiect  at  which  this  discourse  is  prin- 
cipally aiming?  Has  it  not  already  kindled 
within  you  an  ardent  desire  to  attain  that  feli- 
city? Soul  of  man,  susceptible  of  so  many  ideas, 
of  such  enlarged  knowledge,  of  illumination 
so  unbounded,  is  it  possible  lor  thee  to  sojourn 
without  reluctance,  in  a  body  wliich  narrows 
thy  sphere,  and  cramps  thy  nobler  faculliea' 
Philosopher,  who  art  straining  every  nerve, 
who  givest  thyself  no  rest  to  attain  a  degree  of 
knowledge  incom])atible  with  the  condition  of 
humanity:  geometrician,  who,  after  an  incredi- 
ble expense  of  thought,  of  meditation,  of  re- 
flection, art  able  to  attain  at  most  the  know- 
ledge of  the  relations  of  a  circle  or  of  a  trian7 
gle:  tiieologian,  who,  after  so  many  days  of  la- 
bour and  nights  of  watching,  hast  scarcely  ar- 
rived at  the  capacity  of  explaining  a  few  pas- 
sages of  holy  writ,  of  correcting,  by  an  effort, 
some  silly  prejudice;  wretched  mortals,  how 
mucji  are  you  to  be  pitied!  how  impotent  and 
inetlectual  are  all  exertions  to  acquire  real 
knowledge!  1  think  1  am  beholding  one  of 
those  animals,  the  thickness  of  whoso  blood, 
tiie  grossness  of  whose  humours,  the  encum- 
brance of  that  house  with  which  nature  loads 
them,  preventing  them  from  moving  with  fa- 


Ser.  LXXVIL] 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


205 


cility;  I  think  I  am  beholding  one  of  tiiosc  ani- 
mals, striving  to  move  over  an  immense  space 
in  a  little,  little  hour.  He  strains,  he  bustles, 
he  toils,  he  flatters  himself  with  having  made 
a  mighty  progress,  he  exults  in  the  thouglit  of 
attaining  the  end  which  he  had  proposed.  The 
hour  elapses,  and  the  progress  which  he  has 
made  is  a  mere  nothing,  compared  with  the 
immensity  of  the  space  still  untrodden. 

Thus,  loaded  with  a  body  replenished  with 
gross  humours,  retarded  by  matter,  we  are  able, 
in  the  course  of  the  longest  life,  to  acquire  but 
a  very  slender  and  imperfect  degree  of  know- 
ledge. This  body  must  drop:  this  spirit  must 
disengage  itself  before  it  can  become  capable 
of  soaring  unencumbered,  of  penetrating  into 
futurity,  and  of  attaining  that  height  and 
depth  of  knowledge  which  the  blessed  in  hea- 
ven possess. 

Not  only  from  revelation  do  we  derive  these 
ideas,  not  even  from  reason,  in  its  present  high 
state  of  improvement;  they  were  entertained 
in  the  ancient  pagan  world.  We  find  this  sub- 
ject profoundly  investigated,  I  had  almost  said 
exhausted  in  the  Phaedon  of  Plato.  Socrates 
considers  his  body  as  the  greatest  obstacle  in 
tlie  way  of  seeking  after  truth.  And  this  brings 
to  ray  recollection  the  beautiful  expression  of  a 
certain  Anchorite,  to  the  same  purpose;  exten- 
uated, infirm,  sinking  under  a  load  of  years, 
on  the  point  of  expiring,  he  breaks  out  into 
singing.  He  is  asked.  Wherefore  singcst  thou? 
"  Ah!  I  sing,"  says  he,  "  because  1  see  that 
■wall  tumbling  down,  which  hinders  me  from 
beholding  the  face  of  God."  Yes,  this  body 
is  a  wall  which  prevents  our  seeing  God.  Fall 
down,  fall  down,  interposing  invidious  vv-all: 
fall  down  impenetrable  wall,  and  then  wo  shall 
see  God.  But  to  man  in  his  present  state,  to 
man  loaded  with  a  body  like  this,  the  illumina- 
tion cff  the  blessed  in  heaven  is  among  the 
things  which  are  unspeakable. 

-2.  The  blessed  in  heaven  are  prompted  by 
inclination  the  most  noble  and  refined;  a  defect 
of  taste  prevents  our  adopting  and  enjoying  the 
same  inclinations. 

All  tastes  are  not  similar.  Men  agree  tole- 
rably well  in  the  vague  notions  of  honour,  of 
pleasure,  of  generosity,  of  nobility.  But  that 
which  appears  pleasure  to  one,  is  insupportable 
to  another;  that  which  appears  noble,  generous 
to  one,  appears  mean,  grovelling,  contempti- 
ble to  another.  So  that  the  idea  which  you 
might  suggest  to  your  neighbour,  of  a  pleasant 
and  desirable  mode  of  living,  might,  in  all  pro- 
bability, convey  to  him  ideas  of  life  the  most 
odious  and  disgusting. 

Who  is  able  to  make  a  man  plunged  in  busi- 
ness to  comprehend,  that  there  is  pleasure  in- 
expreseible  in  studying  truth,  in  making  addi- 
tions to  a  stock  of  knowledge,  in  diving  into 
mysteries.'  Who  is  able  to  persuade  a  miser, 
that  there  is  a  delight  which  nothing  can  equal, 
in  relieving  the  miserable,  in  ministermg  to 
their  necessities,  in  sharing  fortunes  with  them, 
and  thus,  to  use  the  expression  of  Scripture, 
to  draw  nigh  to  a  man's  "  own  flesh.'"  Isa. 
Iviii.  7.  Who  is  able  to  convince  a  grovelling 
and  dastardly  soul,  that  there  is  joy  to  be  found 
in  pursuing  glory  through  clouds  of  smoke  and 
showers  of  iron,  in  braving  instant  and  certain 


dangers,  in  bidding  defiance  to  almost  inevita- 
ble death.'  In  general,  what  arguments  are  suf- 
ficient to  convince  a  worldling,  that  the  purest 
and  most  perfect  delights  are  to  be  enjoyed  in 
exercises  of  devotion,  in  those  efl'usions  of  the 
heart,  in  that  emptying  us  of  ourselves,  of 
which  the  saints  of  God  have  given  us  such 
warm  recommendations,  and  such  amiable  ex- 
amples? These  are  the  things  of  the  spirit  of 
God,  which  the  natural  man  receiveth  not,  be- 
cause they  are  spiritually  discerned,"  1  Cor. 
ii.  14:  because  he  is  destitute  of  that  taste, 
wliicii  alone  can  enable  him  to  relish  their 
charms. 

Now,  my  brethren,  although  the  love  of 
God  be  the  principle  of  all  the  exalted  virtues 
possessed  by  the  saints  in  glory,  as  well  as  by 
those  who  remain  still  on  the  earth;  although 
both  agree  in  this  general  and  vague  notion, 
that  to  love  God  is  the  sublimity  of  virtue; 
nevertheless,  there  is  a  distance  so  inconceiva- 
ble, between  the  love  which  we  have  for  God 
on  the  earth,  and  that  which  inspires  the  bless- 
ed in  heaven,  that  inclinations  entirely  differ- 
ent result  from  it. 

We  know  God  very  imperfectly  while  we 
are  upon  the  earth,  and  our  love  to  him  is  in 
proportion  to  the  imperfection  of  our  know- 
ledge. To  come  to  his  holy  temple,  to  hear- 
ken to  his  .vord,  to  sing  his  praises,  to  admin- 
ister and  to  partake  of  his  sacramental  ordi- 
nances; to  pant  after  a  union  of  which  we  can- 
not so  much  as  form  an  idea,  to  practice  the 
virtues  which  our  present  condition  imposes; 
such  is  the  taste  which  that  love  inspires;  such 
are  the  particular  inclinations  which  it  excites 
in  our  souls.  After  all,  how  often  are  those 
feelings  blunted  by  prevailing  attachment  to 
the  creature?  How  often  are  they  too  faint  to 
animate  us  to  engage  in  those  exercises?  How 
often  do  we  present  ourselves  before  God,  like 
victims  dragged  reluctantly  to  the  altar?  How 
often  must  a  sense  of  duty  supply  the  want  of 
inclination,  and  hell  opening  under  our  feet, 
produce  in  our  souls  the  eflects  which  ought  to 
flow  from  the  love  of  God  purely?  But,  be  it 
as  it  may,  our  love,  so  long  as  we  continue 
here  below,  can  go  no  further  than  this.  That 
complete  devotcdness  to  God,  those  voluntary 
sacrifices,  that  sublimity  of  virtue  which  refers 
every  thing  to  God  and  to  him  alone,  are 
wholly  unknown  to  us;  we  have  neither  ideas 
to  conceive  them  ourselves,  nor  terms  in  which 
to  convey  them  to  the  minds  of  others. 

The  blessed  in  heaven  know  God  perfectly, 
and  have  a  love  to  him  proportioned  to  the 
perfection  of  that  knowledge,  and  inclinations 
proportioned  to  that  love.  We  know  what 
may  be  impressed  on  the  heart  of  man,  by  the 
idea  of  a  God  known  as  supremely  wise,  as 
supremely  powerful,  as  supremely  amiable. 
The  blessed  in  heaven  take  pleasure  in  exer- 
cises which  Scripture  describes  in  language 
adapted  to  our  present  capacities.  To  this 
purpose  are  such  as  the  following  expressions, 
"  To  cast  their  crowns  before  the  throne," 
Rev.  iv.  10;  "to  behold  always  the  face  of 
their  father  which  is  in  heaven,"  Matt,  xviii. 
10,  as  courtiers  do  that  of  their  sovereign:  to 
"  cover  their  faces"  in  his  presence,  Isa.  vi.  2; 
"  to  sing  a  new  song  before  the  throne,"  Rev. 


206 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


[Ser.  LXXVII. 


xiv.  3;  to  fly  at  his  command  with  the  rapidity 
of  tlio  "wind  and  of  a  flame  of  fire,"  Heb.  i. 
7;  to  "cry  one  to  another,  Holy,  holy,  holy, 
is  the  Lord  of  hosU,"  Isa.  vi.  3;  to  burn,  to 
bear  the  name  of  Serapkiin,  that  is,  burning 
with  zeal.  These  are  cinblenis  presented  to 
our  imagination.  The  thing  itself  cannot  be 
brought  down  to  the  level  of  our  capacity. 
We  are  ignorant  of  the  effect,  because  the 
cause  is  far  beyond  our  comprehension.  We 
are  strangers  to  the  joy  flowing  from  it,  because 
we  want  the  taste  which  alone  can  enable  us  to 
relish  such  delights. 

Nay  more,  with  the  taste  which  we  have 
upon  the  earth,  such  and  such  a  joy  of  tiie 
blessed  above  would  appear  the  severest  of 
punishments  to  the  greatest  of  saints  among 
us.  The  essence  of  the  felicity  of  saints  in 
glory  consists  in  loving  God  only,  and  all 
other  things  in  reference  to  God.  The  senti- 
ments by  which  they  are  animated  relatively 
to  other  beings,  are  not  sentiments  of  blood, 
of  the  spirits,  of  temperament,  like  those  by 
which  we  are  actuated  here  below,  they  are 
regulated  by  order;  they  refer  all  to  God  alone: 
the  blessed  above  are  affected  with  the  felicity 
and  the  misery  of  others,  only  in  so  far  as  these 
relate  to  the  great  moving  principles  by  wliich 
they  are  governed.  But  that  felicity  depicted 
to  men  upon  earth,  and  applied  to  particular 
cases,  would  appear  to  them  a  real  punishment. 
Could  a  father  relish  a  felicity  which  he  was 
told  he  could  not  possibly  share  with  his  child? 
Could  the  friend  enjoy  tranquillity,  were  he 
haunted  with  the  thought,  that  the  friend  of 
his  heart  lay  groaning  under  chains  of  dark- 
ness? Have  we  so  much  love  for  order;  are 
we  sufficiently  disposed  to  refer  all  our  incli- 
nations to  God,  so  as  to  have  that  taste,  which 
considers  objects  as  amiable  and  interesting, 
only  as  they  have  a  relation  to  that  order,  and 
to  that  glory  of  the  Creator?  And  do  we  not 
feel,  that  a  felicity  relative  to  a  taste  which  wc 
do  not  possess,  nay,  opposite  to  that  which  we 
now  have,  is  a  felicity  unspeakable. 

3.  The  third  notion  which  we  suggested  to 
you,  of  the  heavenly  felicity,  is  that  of  semible 
pleastire.  A  defect  of  faculty  prevents  our 
perception  of  their  pleasures. 

Be  not  surprised  that  we  introduce  sensa- 
tions of  pleasure,  into  the  ideas  of  a  felicity 
perfectly  pure,  and  perfectly  conformable  to 
the  sanctity  of  him  who  is  the  author  of  it. 
Do  not  suspect  that  we  are  going  to  extract 
from  the  grossly  sensual  notions  of  Mahomet, 
the  representation  which  wc  mean  to  give  you 
of  the  paradise  of  God.  You  hear  us  frequently 
declaiming  against  the  pleasures  of  sense. 
But  do  not  go  to  confound  things  under  pre- 
tence of  perfecting  them;  and  under  the  ailuc- 
tation  of  decrying  sensible  pleasures,  let  us  not 
consider  as  an  imperfection  of  the  soul  of  man, 
the  power  which  it  has  to  enjoy  them.  No, 
my  brethren,  it  is,  on  tlie  contrary,  one  of  its 
highest  perfections  to  bo  susceptible  of  those 
sen.sations,  to  possess  the  faculty  of  scenting 
the  perfume  of  flowers,  of  relisiiing  the  savour 
of  meats,  of  delighting  in  tlie  harmony  of 
sounds,  and  so  of  the  other  objects  of  sense. 
If  we  declaim  against  your  pleasures,  it  is  bo- 
cause  you  frequently  sacrifice  pleasures  the 
most  sublime,  to  such  as  arc  pitiful  and  in- 


significant; pleasures  of  everlasting  duration, 
to  those  of  a  moment. 

If  we  declaim  against  your  pleasures,  it  is 
because  the  attachment  which  you  feel  for 
those  of  the  earth,  engages  you  to  consider 
them  as  tiie  sovereign  good,  and  prevents  your 
aspiring  after  that  abundant  portion,  which  is 
laid  up  for  you  in  heaven. 

If  wo  declaim  against  your  pleasures,  it  is 
because  you  regard  the  creatures  through 
which  they  are  communicated,  as  if  they  were 
the  real  authors  of  them.  You  ascribe  to  the 
element  of  fire  the  essential  property  of  warm- 
ing you,  to  aliments  that  of  gratifying  the  pa- 
late, to  sounds  that  of  ravishing  the  ear.  You 
consider  the  creatures  as  so  many  divinities 
which  preside  over  your  happiness;  you  pay 
them  homage;  you  prostrate  your  imagination 
before  them;  not  reflecting  that  God  alone  can 
produce  sensations  in  your  soul,  and  that  all 
these  creatures  are  merely  the  instruments  and 
the  ministers  of  his  Providence.  But  the 
maxim  remains  incontrovertible;  namely,  that 
the  faculty  of  relishing  pleasures  is  a  per- 
fection of  our  soul,  and  one  of  its  most  glori- 
ous attributes. 

But  what  merits  particular  attention  is,  that 
this  faculty  which  we  have  of  receiving  agreea- 
ble sensations,  is  extremely  imperfect  so  long 
as  we  remain  upon  the  earth.  It  is  restricted  to 
the  action  of  the  senses.  Its  activity  is  clogged 
b}'  the  chains  which  fetter  it  down  to  matter. 
Our  souls  are  susceptible  of  innumerable  more 
sensations  than  we  ever  can  receive  in  this 
world.  As  progress  in  knowledge  admits  of 
infinity,  so  likewise  may  progress  in  the  en- 
joyment of  pleasure.  In  heaven  the  blessed 
liave  the  experience  of  this.  There  God  ex- 
erts the  plenitude  of  his  power  over  the  soul, 
by  exciting  in  it  the  most  lively  emotions  of 
delight;  there  his  communications  are  propor- 
tional to  the  immortal  nature  of  the  glorified 
spirit.  This  was  produced  in  the  soul  of  our 
apostle. 

"  The  pleasures  which  I  have  tasted,"  he 
seems  to  say,  "  are  not  such  as  your  present 
faculties  can  reach.  In  order  to  make  you 
comprehend  what  I  have  felt,  I  must  be  en- 
dowed with  the  power  of  creating  new  laws  of 
the  union  subsisting  between  your  soul  and 
your  body.  I  must  bo  endowed  with  the 
capacity  of  suspending  those  of  nature;  or 
rather,  I  must  be  possessed  of  the  means  of 
tearing  your  soul  asunder  from  that  body.  I 
must  have  the  power  of  transporting  you  in 
an  ecstacy,  as  I  myself  was.  And  considering 
the  state  in  which  you  still  are,  I  am  persuaded 
that  I  shall  represent  to  you  what  my  feelings 
were  much  better,  by  telling  you  that  they 
are  things  unspeakable,  than  by  attempting  a 
descrii)tion  of  them.  For  when  the  point  in 
<luestion  is  to  represent  that  whicli  consists  in 
lively  and  afiecting  sensations,  there  is  no  other 
metliod  left,  but  actually  to  produce  them  in 
the  breasts  of  the  persons  to  whom  you  would 
make  the  communication.  In  order  to  pro- 
duce them,  faculties  must  be  found,  adapted 
to  tho  reception  of  such  sensations.  But  these 
faculties  you  do  not  as  yet  possess.  It  is  there- 
fore impossible  that  you  should  ever  compre- 
hend, while  here  below,  what  such  sensations 
mean.     And  it  is  no  more  ni  my  power  to  con- 


Ser.  LXXVII.] 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


207 


vey  to  you  an  idea  of  those  which  I  have  en- 
joyed, than  It  is  to  give  the  deaf  an  idea  of 
sounds,  or  tlie  hliiid  man  of  colours." 

You  must  be  sensible  then,  my  brethren, 
that  defect  in  respect  of  faculties,  prevents  our 
conception  of  the  semible  pleasures  which  the 
blessed  above  enjoy,  as  want  of  taste  and  want 
of  g-entiis  prevent  our  comprehendinj^  wiiat  are 
their  inclinations,  and  what  is  their  illuminalirtn. 
Accordiiigly,  the  principal  reason  of  St.  Paul's 
silence,  and  of  tlie  silence  of  scripture  in  gene- 
ral, respecting  the  nature  of  tl)e  heavenly 
felicity,  present  nothing  that  ought  to  relax 
our  ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  it;  they  are  proofs 
of  its  inconceivable  greatness,  and  so  far  from 
sinking  its  value  in  our  eyes,  they  manifestly 
enhance  anJ  aggrandize  it.  This  is  what  we 
undertook  to  demonstrate. 

SERMON  LXXVII. 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 
PART  in. 


2  Cor.  xii.  2—4. 
Iknetc  a  man  in  Christ  above  fourteen  years  ago, 
(whether  in  the  body  J  cannot  tell;  or  whether 
out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell:  God  knoiceth;) 
such  an  one  caught  xip  to  the  third  heaven. 
And  1  knew  such  a  man,  (ivhether  in  the  body, 
or  out  of  the  body,  I  cannot  tell:  God  knoiceth;) 
how  that  he  icas  caught  up  into  paradise,  and 
heard  unspeakable  ivords,  which  it  is  not  lawful 
for  a  man  to  utter. 

We  have  endeavoured  to  elucidate  the  ex- 
pressions of  our  apostle  in  the  text,  and  to  de- 
monstrate tliat  the  silence  of  Scripture,  on  the 
subject  of  a  state  of  celestial  felicity,  suggests 
nothing  that  has  a  tendency  to  cool  our  ardour 
in  the  pursuit  of  it,  but  rather,  on  the  contrary, 
that  this  very  veil  which  conceals  the  paradise 
of  God  from  our  eyes  is,  above  all  things, 
calculated  to  convey  the  most  exalted  ideas  of 
it.     We  now  proceed, 

in.  To  conclude  our  discourse,  by  making 
some  application  of  the  subject. 

Now,  if  tlie  testimony  of  an  apostle,  if  the 
decisions  of  Scripture,  if  the  arguments  which 
have  been  used,  if  all  this  is  deemed  insuffi- 
cient, and  if,  notwithstanding  our  acknowledg- 
ed inability  to  describe  the  heavenly  felicity, 
you  should  still  insist  on  our  attempting  to 
convey  some  idea  of  it,  it  is  in  our  power  to 
present  you  with  one  trait  of  it,  a  trait  of  a 
singular  kind,  and  which  well  deserves  your 
most  serious  attention.  It  is  a  trait  which  im- 
mediately refers  to  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion: I  mean  the  ardent  desire  expressed  by 
St.  Paul  to  return  to  that  felicity,  from  which 
tlie  order  of  Providence  forced  him  away,  to 
replace  him  in  the  world. 

Nothing  can  convey  to  us  a  more  exalted 
idea  of  the  transfiguration  of  Jesus  Christ, 
tlian  the  effects  which  it  produced  on  the  soul 
of  St.  Peter.  That  apostle  had  scarcely  en- 
joyed a  glimpse  of  the  Redeemer's  glory  on  the 
holy  mount,  when,  behold,  he  is  transported 
at  the  sight.  He  has  no  longer  a  desire  to  de- 
scend from  that  mountain;  he  has  no  longer  a 
desire  to  return  to  Jerusalem;  ho  has  forgotten 


every  thing  terrestrial,  friends,  relations,  en- 
gagements; "  Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be 
here;  if  thou  wilt,  let  us  make  here  three  ta- 
bernacles," Matt.  xvii.  4;  and  to  the  extremity 
of  old  age  he  retains  tlie  impression  of  that 
heavenly  vision,  and  exults  in  the  recollection 
of  it:  "  He  received  from  God  the  Father  ho- 
nour and  glory,  when  there  came  such  a  voice 
to  him  from  the  excellent  glory.  This  is  my 
beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.  And 
this  voice  which  came  from  heaven  we  heard, 
when  we  were  with  him  in  the  holy  mount," 
2  Pet.  i.  n,  18. 

The  idea  of  the  celestial  felicity  has  made  a 
similarly  indelible  impression  on  the  mind  of 
St.  Paul.  More  than  fourteen  years  have 
elapsed  since  ho  was  blessed  with  tlie  vision  of 
it.  Nay,  for  fourteen  years  he  has  kept  silence. 
This  object,  nevertheless,  accompanies  him 
wherever  he  goes,  and,  in  every  situation,  his 
soul  is  panting  after  the  restoration  of  it.  And 
in  what  way  was  he  to  look  for  that  restora- 
tion? Not  in  the  way  of  ecstacy,  not  in  a  rap- 
ture. He  was  not  to  be  translated  to  heaven, 
as  Elijah,  in  a  chariot  of  fire.  Necessity  was 
laid  upon  him  of  submitting  to  the  law  impos- 
ed on  every  child  of  Adam:  "  It  is  appointed 
to  all  men  once  to  die,"  Heb.  ix.  2'.  But  no 
matter;  to  that  death,  the  object  of  terror  to  all 
mankind,  he  looks  forward  with  fond  desire. 

But  what  do  I  say,  that  death  simply  was 
the  path  which  St.  Paul  must  tread,  to  arrive 
at  the  heavenly  rest.'  No,  not  the  ordinary 
death  of  most  men;  but  death  violent,  prema- 
ture, death  arrayed  in  all  its  terror.  Nero,  the 
barbarous  Nero,  was  then  upon  the  throne,  and 
the  blood  of  a  Christian  so  renowned  as  our 
apostle,  must  not  escape  so  determined  a  foe  to 
Christianity.  No  matter  still.  "  Let  loose  all 
thy  fury  against  me,  ferocious  tiger,  longing  to 
glut  thyself  with  Christian  blood;  I  defy  thy 
worst.  Come,  executioner  of  the  sanguinary 
commands  of  that  monster;  I  will  mount  the 
scaffold  with  undaunted  resolution;  I  will  sub- 
mit my  head  to  the  fatal  blow  with  intrepidity 
and  joy."  We  said,  in  the  opening  of  this  dis- 
course, Paul,  ever  since  his  rapture,  talks  only 
of  dying,  only  of  being  absent  from  the  body, 
only  of  finishing  his  course,  only  of  departing. 
"  We  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan,  be- 
ing burdened:  ....  willing  rather  to  be  ab- 
sent from  the  body,  and  to  be  present  with  the 
Lord,"  2  Cor.  v.  4.  8.  "Neither  count  I  my 
life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  might  finish  my 
course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  I  have 
received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  Acts  xx.  24, 
"  having  a  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be  with 
Christ,  which  is  far  better,"  Phil.  i.  23.  W© 
often  find  men  braving  death  when  at  a  dis- 
tance, but  shrinking  from  the  nearer  approach 
of  the  king  of  terrors.  But  the  earnestness  of 
our  apostle's  wishes  is  heightened  in  proportion 
as  they  draw  nigh  to  their  centre:  when  he  is 
arrived  at  the  departing  moment,  he  triumphs, 
"  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished 
my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth 
is  laid  up  for  mo  a  crown  of  righteousness, 
which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge,  shall  give 
me  at  that  day,"  2  Tim.  iv.  7,  8. 

My  brethren,  you  are  well  acquainted  with 
St.  Paul.  He  was  a  truly  great  character. 
Were  we  not  informed  by  a  special  revelation, 


208 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  ST.  PAUL. 


[Ser.  LXXVU. 


that  he  was  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  we 
must  ever  entertain  high  ideas  of  a  man,  who 
had  derived  liis  extensive  knowledge  from  the 
pure  sources  of  tiie  Jewish  dispensation;  who 
had  ennobled  his  enlarged  and  capacious  mind 
by  all  that  is  more  sublime  in  Christianity;  of 
a  man,  whose  lieart  had  always  obeyed  the  dic- 
tates of  his  understanding;  who  ojiposed  Chris- 
tianity with  zeal,  so  long  as  he  believed  Chris- 
tianity to  be  false,  and  who  bent  the  full  cur- 
rent of  his  zeal  to  the  support  of  Christianity, 
from  the  moment  he  became  persuaded  that  it 
was  an  emanation  from  God. 

St.  Paul  was  a  man  possessed  of  strong  rea- 
soning powere,  and  we  have  in  his  writings 
many  monuments  which  will  convey  down  to 
the  end  of  the  world  the  knowledge  of  his  in- 
tellectual superiority.  Nevertheless  this  man 
so  enlightened,  so  sage,  so  rational;  this  man 
who  knew  the  pleasures  of  heaven  by  experi- 
ence, no  longer  beholds  any  thing  on  the  earth 
once  to  be  compared  with  them,  or  that  could 
for  a  moment  retard  his  wishes.  He  concludes 
that  celestial  joys  ought  not  to  be  considered 
as  too  dearly  purchased,  at  whatever  price  it 
may  have  pleased  God  to  rate  them,  and  what- 
ever it  may  cost  to  attain  them.  I  reckon,  says 
he,  /  reckon  what  I  suffer,  and  what  I  may  still 
be  called  to  suffer,  on  the  one  side;  and  /  reckon, 
on  the  other,  the  glory  of  which  I  have  been 
a  witness,  and  which  I  am  still  to  enjoy;  "  I 
reckon,  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time 
are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
which  shall  be  revealed  in  us,"  Rom.  viii.  18. 
"  Having  a  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be  with 
Christ,"  Phil.  i.  23. 

But  who  is  capable  of  giving  an  adequate 
representation  of  his  transports,  so  as  to  make 
you  feel  them  with  greater  energy,  and  were  it 
possible,  to  transfuse  them  into  your  hearts? 
Represent  to  yourself  a  man,  who  has  actually 
seen  that  glory,  of  which  we  can  give  you  only 
borrowed  ideas.  Represent  to  yourself  a  man, 
who  has  visited  those  sacred  mansions  which 
are  "  in  the  house  of  the  Father,"  John  xiv.  2; 
a  man  who  has  seen  the  palace  of  the  Sove- 
reign of  the  universe,  and  those  "  thousands," 
those  "  thousand  thousands,"  which  surround 
his  throne,  Dan.  vii.  10;  a  man  who  has  been 
in  that  "  new  Jerusalem,  which  cometh  down 
out  of  heaven,"  Rev.  iii.  12;  in  that  "new 
heaven,"  and  that  "new  earth,"  Rev.  xxi.  I. 
The  inhabitants  of  whicli  are  angels,  archan- 
gels, the  seraphim;  of  which  the  lamb  is  the  sit» 
and  the  temple,  Rev.  xxi.  22,  23,  and  where 
"  God  is  all  in  all,"  1  Cor.  xv.  28.  Represent 
to  yourself  a  man,  who  has  heard  tliose  liarino- 
nious  concerts,  tliose  triumphant  ciioirs  wiiich 
sing  aloud  day  and  niglit:  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is 
the  Lord  of  hosts;  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his 
glory,"  Isa.  vi.  3;  a  man  who  has  heard  those 
celestial  multitudes  which  cry  out,  saying, 
"  Alleluia:  salvation,  and  glory,  and  honour, 

and  power,  unto  the  Lord  our  God and 

the  four-and-twenty  eUcm  reply,  saying.  Amen; 

Alleluia let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  for 

the  marriage  of  the  Lamb  is  come,  and  his 
wife  hath  made  herself  ready,"  Rev.  xix.  I.  4. 
T.  Represent  to  yourself  a  man  who  has  been 
received  into  heaven  by  those  angels  who  "  re- 
joice over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,"  Luke  xv. 
■J,  and  who  redcublo  their  acclamations  when 


he  is  admitted  into  the  bosom  of  glory;  or,  to 
say  somewhat  which  has  a  still  nearer  relation 
to  the  idea  which  we  ought  to  conceive  of  St. 
Paul,  represent  to  yourself  a  man  "bearing  in 
his  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  Gal. 
vi.  n,  and  beholding  that  Jesus  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Father:  represent  to  yourself  tliat  man 
giving  way  to  unrestrained  effusions  of  love, 
embracing  his  Saviour,  clinging  to  his  feet, 
passing,  in  such  sacred  transports  of  delight,  a 
time  which  glides  away,  undoubtedly,  with  ra- 
pidity of  which  we  have  no  conception,  and 
which  enables  the  soul  to  comprehend  how, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  perfect  bliss,  a  thousand 
years  fly  asvay  with  the  velocity  of  one  day: 
represent  to  yourself  that  man  suddenly  recall- 
ed to  this  valley  of  tears,  beholding  that  "  third 
heaven,"  tliose  archangels,  that  God,  that 
Jesus,  all,  all  disappearing;  Ah,  my  brethren, 
what  regret  must  such  a  man  have  felt!  What 
holy  impatience  to  recover  the  vision  of  all 
those  magnificent  objects!  What  is  become  of 
so  much  felicity,  of  so  much  glory!  Was  1  made 
to  possess  them,  then,  only  to  have  the  pain  of 
losing  them  again!  Did  God  indulge  me  with 
the  beatific  vision  only  to  give  me  a  deeper 
sense  of  my  misery!  O  moment  too  fleeting  and 
transitory,  and  have  you  fled  never  to  be  recall-- 
ed!  Raptures,  transports,  ecstactes,  have  ye 
left  me  for  ever!  "  My  father,  my  father,  the 
cliariot  of  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof,"  2 
Kings  ii.  12.  "  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the 
water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O 
God:  my  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living 
God:  when  shall  I  come  and  appear  before 
God?"  Ps.  xlii.  1,  2.  "How  amiable  are  thy 
tabernacles,  O  Lord  of  hosts!  My  soul  longeth, 
yea,  even  fainteth  for  the  courts  of  the  Lord: 
my  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out  for  the  living 
God.  .  .  .  Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  in  thy 
house;  they  will  be  still  praising  thee!  tliine 
altars,  thine  altars,  O  Lord  of  hosts,  my  King, 
and  my  God!"  Ps.  Ixxxiv.  1,  &x;. 

My  God,  wherefore  enjoy  we  not  at  this  day 
such  privileges,  that  we  also  might  be  filled 
with  sucii  sentiments!  Boundless  abysses,  which 
separate  between  heaven  and  earth,  why  are  ye 
not,  for  a  season,  filled  up  to  us,  as  ye  were  to 
this  apostle!  Ye  torrents  of  endless  delight, 
wherefore  roll  ye  not  to  us,  some  of  your  pre- 
cious rills,  that  they  may  teach  us  a  holy  con- 
tempt for  those  treacherous  joys  which  deceive 
and  ensnare  us! 

My  brethren,  if  ceasing  from  the  desire  of 
manifestations  which  we  have  not,  we  could 
learn  to  avail  ourselves  of  those  which  God 
has  beeii  pleased  to  bestow!  were  we  but  dis- 
posed Jto  listen  to  the  information  which  the 
Scriptures  communicate,  respecting  the  hea- 
venly felicity:  If  we  would  but  examine  the 
proofs,  the  demonstrations  which  we  have  of 
eternal  blessedness!  If  we  but  knew  how  to 
feed  on  those  ideas,  and  frequently  to  oppose 
them  to  those  voids,  to  those  nothings,  which 
are  the  great  object  of  our  pursuit!  If  we 
would  but  compare  them  with  the  excellent 
nature  of  our  souls,  and  with  the  dignity  of  our 
origin!  then  we  should  become  like  St.  Paul. 
Then  nothing  would  be  able  to  damp  our  zeal. 
The  end  of  the  course  would  then  employ  every 
wish,  every  desire  of  the  heart.  Then  no  dex- 
terity of  management  would  be  needful  to  in- 


Ser.  LXXVIII. 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


209 


troduce  a  discourse  on  the  subject  of  death. 
Then  we  should  rejoice  in  those  who  might  say 
to  us,  "  Let  us  go  up  to  Jenisalcin."  Then  we 
should  reply,  "  our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy 
gates,  O  .Jerusalem!"  Ps.  cxxii.  2.  Then  we 
should  see  that  fervour,  that  zeal,  that  trans- 
ports, are  the  virtues,  and  the  attainment  of 
the  dying. 

You  would  wish  to  be  partakers  of  St.  Paul's 
rapture  to  the  third  heaven,  but  if  this  privilege 
be  denied  you  to  its  full  extent,  nothing  forbids 
your  aspiring  after  one  part  of  it  at  least. 
When  was  it  that  St.  Paul  was  caught  u[)  into 
paradise?  You  have  been  told;  it  was  when  en- 
gaged in  prayer.  "  While  I  prayed  in  the  tem- 
ple," says  he,  "  I  was  in  a  trance,"  Acts  .^xii. 
17.  The  word  trance,  or  ecstacy  is  of  indeter- 
minate meaning.  A  man  in  an  ecstacy  is  one 
whose  soul  is  so  entirely  devoted  to  an  object, 
that  he  is,  in  some  sense,  out  of  his  own  body, 
and  no  longer  perceives  what  passes  in  it.  Per- 
sons addicted  to  scientific  research,  have  been 
known  so  entirely  absorbed  in  thought,  as  to  be 
in  a  manner  insensible  during  those  moments 
of  intense  application.  Ecstacy  in  religion,  is 
that  undivided  attention  which  attaches  the 
mind  to  heavenly  objects.  If  any  thing  is  ca- 
pable of  producing  this  effect,  it  is  prayer.  It 
is  by  no  means  astonishing  that  a  man  who  has 
"entered  into  his  closet,  and  shut  the  door," 
Matt.  vi.  6,  who  has  excluded  the  world,  has  lost 
sight  of  every  terrestrial  object,  whose  soul  is 
concentrated  and  lost  in  God,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  that  such  a  man  should  be  so  pene- 
trated with  admiration,  with  love,  with  hope, 
with  joy, as  to  become  like  one  rapt  in  an  ecstacy. 
But  farther.  It  is  in  the  exercise  of  prayer 
that  God  is  pleased  to  communicate  himself  to 
us  in  the  most  intimate  manner.  It  is  in  the 
exercise  of  prayer,  that  he  unites  himself  to 
us  in  the  tenderest  manner.  It  is  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  prayer,  that  distinguished  saints  ob- 
tain those  signal  marks  of  favour,  which  are 
the  object  of  our  most  ardent  desire.  A  man 
who  prays;  a  man  whose  prayer  is  employed 
about  detachment  from  sensible  things;  a  man 
who  blushes,  in  secret,  at  the  thought  of  being 
so  swallowed  up  of  sensible  things,  and  so  little 
enamoured  of  divine  excellencies;  a  man  who 
asks  of  God,  to  be  blessed  with  a  glimpse  of 
his  glory,  with  a  foretaste  of  the  felicity  laid 
up  in  store  for  him,  and  that  he  would  fortify 
his  soul  against  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of 
his  career;  such  a  man  may  expect  to  be,  as  it 
were,  rapt  in  an  ecstacy,  either  by  the  natural 
effect  of  prayer,  or  by  the  extraordinary  com- 
munications which  God  is  pleased  to  vouchsafe 
to  those  who  call  upon  his  name. 

From  this  source  proceeds  that  earnest  long- 
ing "  to  depart,"  such  as  Paul  expressed:  hence 
that  delightful  recollection  of  the  pleasure  en- 
joyed in  those  devout  exercises,  pleasure  that 
has  rendered  the  soul  insensible  to  the  empty 
delights  of  this  world;  hence  the  idea  of  those 
blessed  moments  which  occupy  the  mind  for 
fourteen  years  together,  and  which  produces, 
at  the  hour  of  death,  a  fervour  not  liable  to 
suspicion:  for,  my  brethren,  there  is  a  fervour 
which  I  am  disposed  to  suspect.  I  acknow- 
ledge, that  when  I  see  a  man  who  has  all  his 
life  long  stagnated  in  the  world,  affecting  in 
the  hour  of  death,  to  assume  the  language  of 
\0L.  II.— 27 


eminent  saints,  and  to  say,  "  I  have  a  desire  to 
depart:  my  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living 
Go<i;"  becoming  all  at  once  a  seraph,  burning 
with  zeal;  1  acknowledge  myself  to  be  always 
inider  an  apprehension,  that  this  zeal  derives  its 
birth  from  some  mechanical  play,  or  to  the  un- 
accountable duty  which  the  sick  imi>ose  upon 
themselves,  even  such  of  them  as  are  most 
steadil}' attached  to  the  earth,  of  declaring  that 
tiiey  feel  an  earnest  desire  to  leave  it.  But  a 
man  who,  through  life,  has  been  busied  about 
eternity,  whose  leading  aim  was  to  secure  a 
hapi)y  eternity,  who  has,  as  it  were,  anticipated 
the  jileasures  of  eternity,  by  habits  of  devotion; 
a  man  who  has  been  absorbed  of  those  ideas, 
who  has  fed  upon  them;  a  man  who  having  de- 
voted a  whole  life  to  those  sacred  employments, 
observes  the  approach  of  death  with  joy,  meets 
it  with  ardent  desire,  zeal,  transport,  such  a 
man  displays  notiiing  to  excite  suspicion. 

And  is  not  such  a  state  worthy  of  being  en- 
vied' This  is  the  manner  of  death  which  I 
ask  of  thee,  O  my  God,  when,  after  having 
served  thee  in  the  sinctnary,  like  the  high 
priest  of  old,  thou  slialtbe  pleased,  of  thy  great 
mercy,  to  admit  me  into  the  holy  of  holies. 
This  is  the  manner  of  death  which  I  wish  to 
all  of  you,  my  beloved  hearers.  God  grant 
that  each  of  you  may  be  enabled  powerfully 
to  inculc-.te  upon  his  own  mind,  this  great 
principle  of  religion,  tiiat  there  is  a  third  hea- 
ven, a  paradise,  a  world  of  bliss  over  our  heads! 
God  grant  that  each  of  you  may  attain  the 
lively  persuasion,  that  this  is  the  only  desirable 
felicity,  the  only  felicitj'  worthy  of  God  to  be- 
stow, and  of  man  to  receive!  God  grant  that 
each  of  you,  in  meditation,  in  prayer,  in  those 
happy  moments  of  tiie  Christian  "life  in  which 
God  communicates  himself  so  intimately  to 
his  creatures,  may  enjoy  the  foretastes  of 
that  felicity;  and  thus,  instead  of  fearing  that 
death  which  is  to  put  you  in  possession  of  so 
many  blessings,  you  may  contemplate  it  with 
holy  joy  and  say,  "  tliis  is  the  auspicious  mo- 
ment which  I  have  so  long  wished  for,  which 
my  soul  has  been  panting  after,  which  has 
been  the  burden  of  so  many  fervent  prayers: 
Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in 
peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thj'  salvation." 
May  God  in  mercy  grant  it  to  us  all.  To  him 
be  honour  and  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXVIII. 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS.» 

PART  I. 


Psalm  xc.  12. 

So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  ap- 
ply our  hearts  xinto  wisdom. 
Through  what  favour  of  indulgent  heaven 
does  this  church  nourish  in  its  bosom  members 
sufficient  to  furnish  out  the  solemnity  of  this 
day,  and  to  compose  an  assembly  so  numerous 
and  respectable.'  Through  what  distinguish- 
ing goodness  is  it,  that  you  find  3'ourselves 
with  your  children,  with  your  friends,   with 


*  Delivered  in  the  church  of  RoUerdani,  oa  New 
Year's  day,  1727. 


210 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


[Ser.  LXXVIII. 


your  fellow-citizens;  no,  not  all  of  them,  for 
the  mourning  weeds  in  which  some  of  you  are 
clothed,  plainly  indicate,  that  death  has  robbed 
us,  in  part  of  them,  in  the  course  of  tiie  year 
which  is  just  terminated.  But  through  what 
distinguishing  goodness  is  that  you  find  your- 
selves, with  your  children,  with  your  friends, 
with  your  fellow-citizens,  collected  together  in 
this  sacred  place.' 

The  preachers  who  filled  the  spot  which  I 
have  now  the  honour  to  occupy,  and  whose 
voice  resounded  through  this  temple  at  the 
commencement  of  the  last  year,  derived,  from 
the  inexhaustible  fund  of  human  frailty  and 
infirmity,  motives  upon  motives  to  excite  ap- 
prehension that  you  might  not  behold  the  end 
of  it.  They  represented  to  you  the  fragility 
of  the  organs  of  your  body,  which  the  slightest 
shock  is  able  to  derange  and  to  destroy:  the 
dismal  accidents  by  which  the  life  of  man  is 
incessantly  threatened;  the  maladies,  without 
number,  which  are  either  entailed  on  us  by 
the  law  of  our  nature,  or  which  are  the  fruit 
of  our  intemperance;  the  uncertainty  of  hu- 
man existence,  and  the  narrow  bounds  to  which 
life,  at  the  longest,  is  contracted. 

After  having  filled  their  mouths  with  argu- 
ments drawn  from  the  stores  of  nature,  they 
had  recourse  to  those  of  religion.  They  spake 
to  you  of  the  limited  extent  of  the  patience 
and  long  sutFering  of  God.  They  told  you, 
that  to  each  of  us  is  assigned  only  a  certain 
number  of  days  of  visitation.  Tliey  thundered 
in  your  ears  such  warnings  as  these:  "  Gather 
yourselves  together,  yea  gather  together,  O  na- 
tion not  desired;  before  the  decree  bring  forth 

before  the  fierce  anger  of  the  Lord 

come  upon  you,"  Zeph.  ii.  1,2.  "  1  will  set 
a  plumb  line  in  the  midst  of  my  people:  I  will 
not  again  pass  by  them  any  more,"  Amos  vii. 
8.  "  Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh  shall  be 
overthrown:  yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh  shall 
be  overthrown,"  Jonah  iii.  4. 

How  is  it  possible  that  we  should  have  es- 
caped, at  the  same  time,  the  miseries  of  nature, 
and  the  fearful  threatenings  of  religion.'  And 
to  repeat  my  question  once  more,  through 
what  favour  of  indulgent  heaven  does  this 
church  nourish  in  its  bosom  members  sufiicient 
to  furnish  out  the  solemnity  of  this  day,  and 
to  compose  an  assembly  so  numerous  and  re- 
spectable.' 

It  is  to  be  presumed,  my  brethren,  that  the 
principle  which  has  prevented  our  improve- 
ment of  the  innumerable  benefits  with  which 
a  gracious  Providence  is  loading  us,  prevents 
not  our  knowledge  of  the  source  from  which 
they  flow.  It  is  to  be  presumed,  that  the  first 
emotions  of  our  hearts,  when  we,  this  morning, 
opened  our  eyes  to  behold  the  light,  have  been 
such  as  formerly  animated  holy  men  of  God, 
when  they  cried  aloud,  amidst  the  residue  of 
those  whom  the  love  of  God  had  delivered 
from  the  plagues  inflicted  by  his  justice,  in  the 
days  of  vengeance:  "  It  is  of  the  Lord's  mer- 
cies that  we  are  not  consumed,  because  his 
compassions  fail  not:  they  are  new  every  morn- 
ing," Lam.  iii.  22,  23.  "Except  the  Lord  of 
hosts  had  left  unto  us  a  very  small  remnant, 
we  should  have  been  as  Sodom,  and  we  should 
have  been  like  unto  Gomorrah,"  Isa.  i.  9. 

Wo!  wo!  Anathema  upon  anathema!  be  to 


him  who  sliall  dare  henceforth  to  abuse  .  .  . 
But  no,  let  us  not  fulminate  curses.  Let  not 
sounds  so  dreadful  affright  the  ears  of  an  au- 
dience like  this.  Let  us  adopt  a  language 
more  congenial  to  the  present  day.  We  come 
to  beseech  you,  mj'  beloved  brethren,  by  those 
very  mercies  of  God  to  which  you  are  indebt- 
ed for  exemption  from  so  many  evils,  and  for 
the  enjoyment  of  so  many  blessings:  by  those 
very  mercies  which  have  this  day  opened  for 
your  admission,  the  gates  of  this  temple,  in- 
stead of  sending  you  down  into  the  prison  of 
the  tomb;  by  those  very  mercies,  by  which  you 
were,  within  these  few  days,  invited  to  the 
table  of  the  Eucharist,  instead  of  being  sum- 
moned to  the  tribunal  of  judgment;  by  these 
tender  mercies  we  beseech  you  to  assume  sen- 
timents, and  to  form  plans  of  conduct,  which 
may  have  something  like  a  correspondence  to 
what  God  has  been  pleased  to  do  in  your 
behalf. 

And  thou,  God  Almighty,  the  Sovereign, 
the  Searcher  of  all  hearts!  thou  who  movest 
and  directest  tliem  which  ever  way  thou  wilt! 
vouchsafe.  Almighty  God,  to  open  to  us  the 
hearts  of  all  this  assembly,  that  they  may  yield 
to  the  entreaties  which  we  address  to  them  in 
thy  name,  as  thou  hast  been  thyself  propitious 
to  the  prayers  which  they  have  presented  to 
thee.  Thou  hast  reduced  "the  measure  of 
our  days  to  an  hand  breadth:"  Ps.  xxxix.  5, 
and  the  meanest  of  our  natural  faculties  is 
sufficient  to  make  the  enumeration  of  them: 
but  "  so  to  number  our  days,  as  that  we  may 
apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom,"  we  cannot  suc- 
cessfully attempt  without  thy  all-powerful  aid 
— "  Lord,  so  teach  us  to  number  our  days, 
that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 
Amen. 

In  order  to  a  clear  comprehension  of  the 
words  of  my  text,  it  would  be  necessary  for 
me  to  have  it  in  my  power  precisely  to  indi- 
cate who  is  the  author  of  them,  and  on  what 
occasion  they  were  composed.  The  psalm, 
from  which  they  are  taken,  bears  this  inscrip- 
tion, "  A  prayer  of  Moses,  the  man  of  God." 
But  who  was  this  Moses?  And  on  the  sup- 
position that  the  great  legislator  of  the  Jews 
is  the  person  meant,  did  he  actually  compose 
it'  or  do  the  words  of  the  superscription,  "  A 
prayer  of  Moses,  the  man  of  God,"  amount 
only  to  this,  that  some  one  has  imitated  his 
style,  and,  in  some  measure,  caught  his  spirit, 
in  this  composition?  This  is  a  point  not  easily 
to  be  decided,  and  which  indeed  does  not  admit 
of  complete  demonstration.  The  opinion  most 
venerable  from  its  antiquity,  and  the  most  ge- 
nerally adopted,  is,  that  this  psahn  was  com- 
posed by  the  Jewish  lawgiver,  at  one  of  the 
most  melancholy  conjunctures  of  his  life;  when 
after  the  murmuring  of  the  Israelites,  on  occa- 
sion of  the  report  of  the  spies,  God  pronounc- 
ed this  tremendous  decree:  "  As  truly  as  I  live, 
all  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  ....  your  carcasses  shall  fall  in 
this  wilderness;  and  all  that  were  numbered  of 
you,  according  to  your  whole  number  .... 
shall  not  come  into  tlie  land,  concerning  which 
I  sware  to  make  you  dwell  therein,"  Num. 
xiv.  2L  29,  30. 

If  this  conjecture  be  as  well  founded  as  it 
is  probable,  the  prayer  under  review  is  the  pro- 


Ser.  LXXVIII.] 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


211 


duction  of  a  heart  as  deeply  affected  with  grief, 
as  it  is  possible  to  be  without  sinkingf  into  des- 
pair. Never  did  Moses  feel  himself  reduced 
to  such  a  dreadful  extremity,  as  at  this  fatal 
period.  It  appeared  as  if  there  had  been  a 
concert  between  God  and  Israel  to  put  liis 
constancy  to  the  last  trial.  On  the  one  hand, 
the  Israelites  wanted  to  make  him  responsible 
for  all  that  was  rough  and  disj)leasing  in  the 
paths  through  which  God  was  pleased  to  lead 
them;  and  it  seemed  as  if  God,  on  the  other 
hand,  would  likewise  hold  him  responsible  for 
the  complicated  rebellions  of  Israel. 

Moses  opposes  to  this  just  displeasure  of 
God  a  buckler  which  he  had  often  employed 
with  success,  namely,  prayer.  That  wiiich  he 
put  up  on  this  occasion,  was  one  of  the  most 
fervent  that  can  be  imagined.  But  tiierc  are 
situations  in  which  all  the  fervour,  of  even  the 
most  powerful  intercessor,  is  wholly  unavail- 
ing. There  are  seasons,  when,  "  though  Moses 
and  Samuel  stood  up  before  God,"  Jer.  xvi.  1, 
to  request  him  to  spare  a  nation,  the  measure 
of  whose  iniquity  was  come  to  the  full,  they 
would  request  in  vain.  In  such  a  situation 
was  Moses  now  placed.  Represent  to  your- 
selves the  deplorable  condition  of  the  Israelites, 
and  the  feelings  of  that  man,  whose  leading 
character  was  meekness;  and  who,  if  we  may 
be  allowed  the  expression,  carried  that  rebel- 
lious people  in  the  tenderest  and  most  sensible 
part  of  his  soul:  to  be  excluded  from  all  hope 
beyond  thirty  or  forty  years  of  life,  and  to  be 
condemned  to  pass  these  in  a  desert;  what  a 
fearful  destiny! 

What  course  does  Moses  take?     Dismissed, 
so  to  speak,  banished  from  the  throne  of  grace, 
does  he  however  give  all  up  for  lost'    No, 
my  brethren.     He  was  unable  by  entreaty  to 
procure  a  revocation  of  the  sentence  pronoun- 
ced against  persons  so  very  dear  to  him,  he 
limits  himself  to  imploring,  in  their  behalf, 
wisdom  to  make  a  proper  use  of  it.     "Thou 
hast  sworn  it,  great  God;  and  the  oalli,  which 
thy  adorable  lips  have  pronounced  against  us, 
can  never  be  recalled.     Thou  hast  sworn  that 
none  of  us,  who  came  out  of  Egypt,  shall  enter 
into  that  land,  the  object  of  all  our  iiopes  and 
prayers.     Thou  hast  sworn  that  die  we  must, 
after  having  lingered  out  for  forty  years,  a 
miserable  existence  in  this  wilderness,  a  habita- 
tion fitter  for  ferocious  beasts  of  prey,  than  for 
reasonable  creatures,  than  for  men  whom  thou 
hast  chosen,  and  called  thy  people.     The  sighs 
which  my  soul  has  breathed  to  heaven  for  a 
remission  are  unavailing;   the  tears  which  I 
have  shed  in  thy  bosom,  have  been  shed  in 
vain;  these  hands,  once  powerful  to  the  combat, 
these  hands  which  were  stronger  than  thee  in 
battle,  these  hands  against  which  thou  couldst 
not  hold  out,  which  made  thee  say,  "  let  nic 
alone,  that  my  wrath  may  wax  hot  against 
them,  and  that  I  may  consume  them,"  Exod. 
xxxii.  10;  these  hands  have  lost  the  blessed  art 
of  prevailing  with  God  in  the  conflict!     Well, 
be  it  so.     l.et  us  die,  great  God,  seeing  it  is 
thy  sovereign  will!     Let  us  serve  as  victims  to 
thy  too  just  indignation;  reduce  our  life  to  the 
shortest  standard.     But  at  least,  since  we  had 
not  the  wisdom  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  pro- 
mises of  a  long  and  happy  life,  teach  us  to 
live  aa  becomes  persons  who  are  to  die  so  soon. 


Lord,  so  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that 
wc  may  a|)ply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 

Tliis  is  a  general  idea  of  the  end  which  our 
text  has  in  view.  But  let  ns  enter  somewhat 
more  deeply  into  this  interesting  subject.  Let 
us  make  application  of  it  to  our  own  life,  which 
bears  a  resemblance  so  striking  to  that  which 
the  cliildren  of  Israel  were  doomed  to  pass  in 
tlie  wilderness.     Wc  are  to  inquire, 

I.  What  is  implied  in  numbering  our  days. 

II.  What  are  tlie  conclusions  which  wisdom 
deduces  from  that  enumeration. 

I.  In  order  to  make  a  just  estimate  of  our 
days,  let  us  reckon,  1.  Those  days,  or  divisions 
of  time,  in  which  we  feel  neither  good  nor 
evil,  neither  joy  nor  grief,  and  in  whicli  we 
practise  neither  virtue  nor  vice,  and  which, 
for  this  reason,  I  call  days  of  nothingness;  let 
us  reckon  these,  and  compare  them  with  the 
days  of  reality.  2.  Let  us  reckon  the  days  of 
adversity,  and  compare  them  with  the  days  of 
prosperity.  3.  Let  us  reckon  the  days  of  lan- 
guor and  weariness,  and  compare  them  with 
the  days  of  delight  and  pleasure.  4.  Let  us 
reckon  the  days  which  we  have  devoted  to  the 
world,  and  compare  them  with  the  days  which 
we  have  devoted  to  religion.  5.  Finally,  let 
us  calculate  the  amount  of  the  whole,  that  we 
may  discover  how  long  the  duration  is  of  a  life 
consisting  of  days  of  nothingness  and  of  reality; 
of  days  of  prosperity  and  of  adversity;  of  days 
of  pleasure  and  of  languor;  of  days  devoted  to 
the  world,  and  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

1.  Let  us  reckon  the  days  of  nothingness, 
and  compare  them  with  the  daj's  of  reality. 
I  give  the  appellation  of  days  of  nothingness  to 
all  that  portion  of  our  life  in  which,  as  I  said, 
we  feel  neither  good  nor  evil,  neither  joy  nor 
grief;  in  which  we  practise  neither  virtue  nor 
vice,  and  which  is  a  mere  nothing  with  respect 
to  us. 

In  this  class  must  be  ranked,  all  those  hours 
which  human  infirmity  lays  us  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  passing  in  sleep,  and  which  run  away 
with  the  third  part  of  our  life;  time,  during 
which  we  are  stretched  in  a  species  of  tomb, 
and  undergo,  as  it  were,  an  anticipated  death. 
Happy  at  the  same  time  in  being  able,  in  a 
death  not  immediately  followed  by  the  judg- 
ment of  God,  to  bury,  in  some  measure,  our 
troubles,  together  with  our  life! 

In  this  class  must  be  farther  ranked,  those 
seasonsof  inaction,  and  of  distraction,  in  which 
all  the  faculties  of  our  souls  are  suspended, 
during  which  we  propose  no  kind  of  object  to 
thought,  during  which  we  cease,  in  some  sense, 
to  be  thinking  beings;  seasons  wlwch  afford  an 
objection  of  no  easy  solution,  to  the  opinion 
of  those  who  maintain  that  actual  thought 
is  essential  to  mind;  and  that  from  this  very 
consideration,  that  it  subsists,  it  must  actually 
think. 

In  this  class  must  be  farther  ranked,  all  those 
portions  of  time  which  are  a  burden  to  us;  not 
because  we  are  under  the  pressure  of  some  ca- 
lamity, for  tiiis  will  fall  to  be  considered  under 
another  head,  but  because  they  form,  if  I  may 
say  so,  a  wall  between  us  and  certain  events, 
which  we  ardently  wish  to  attain.  Such  as 
when  we  are  in  a  state  of  uncertainty  respect 
ing  certain  questions,  in  which  we  feel  our 
selves  deeply  interested,  but  which  must  re 


212 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


[Ser.  LXXVIII. 


main  undecided  for  pome  days,  for  some  montlis, 
for  some  years.  VVc  could  wisli  to  suppress 
all  those  intervals  of  our  existence,  were  God 
to  put  it  in  our  power.  Thus,  a  child  wisiies 
to  attain  in  a  moment,  tlie  a(re  of  youth;  the 
younjr  man  would  hasten  at  once  into  the  con- 
dition of  tiic  master  of  a  family;  and  some- 
times the  father  of  a  family  would  rush  for- 
ward to  tiic  period  when  he  .«hould  sec  the  be- 
loved objects  of  hiâ  aliectiou  settled  in  the 
world:  and  so  of  other  cases. 

In  this  class  we  may  still  rank  certain  sea- 
sons of  pre|)aration  and  design:  such  as  the 
time  which  wc  spend  in  dressing  and  undress- 
ing upon  the  roail,  and  in  other  similar  occu- 
pations, insipid  and  useless  in  tliemselves,  and 
to  which  no  importance  attaches,  but  in  so  far 
as  they  are  the  means  necessary  of  attaining  an 
object  more  interesting  than  themselves. 

Reckon,  if  you  can,  what  is  the  amount  of 
this  first  class  of  our  days;  compare  them  with 
what  we  have  called  days  of  reality.  Who« 
ever  will  take  the  trouble  to  make  such  a  cal-' 
culation  with  any  degree  of  exactness,  must 
be  constrained  to  acknowledge,  that  a  man 
who  says  he  has  lived  threescore  years,  has 
not  lived  twenty  complete:  because,  though 
he  has  in  truth  passed  threescore  years  in  the 
world,  forty  of  these  stole  away  in  listlessness 
and  inaction,  and  during  this  period,  he  was  as 
if  he  had  not  been.  This  is  the  first  enumera- 
tion, the  enumeration  of  days  of  nothingness 
compared  with  days  of  reality. 

2.  Let  us  reckon  the  daxjs  of  adversity,  and 
compare  tiiem  with  the  days  of  prosperity.  To 
what  a  scanty  measure  would  human  life  be 
reduced,  were  we  to  sul)tract  from  it  those 
seasons  of  bitterness  of  soul  which  God  seems 
to  have  appointed  to  us,  rather  to  furnish  an 
e.xercisc  to  our  patience,  than  to  make  us  taste 
the  pleasures  of  living. 

What  is  life  to  a  man,  who  feels  himself 
condenmed  to  live  in  a  state  of  perpetual  sepa- 
ration from  persons  who  are  dear  to  him?  Col- 
lect into  one  and  the  same  house,  honours, 
riches,  dignities;  let  the  tables  be  loaded  with 
a  profusion  of  dainties;  display  the  most  mag- 
nificent furniture;  let  all  tliat  is  exquisite  in 
music  be  provided;  let  every  human  delight 
contribute  its  aid:  all  that  is  necessary  to  render 
all  these  insipid  and  disgusting,  is  the  absence 
of  one  beloved  object,  say  a  darling  child. 

What  is  life  to  a  man  who  has  become  infa- 
mous, to  a  man  wiio  is  execrated  by  his  fellow- 
creatures,  who  dares  not  appear  in  public,  lest 
his  ears  should  be  stunned  with  the  voice  of 
malediction,  thundering  in  every  direction 
upon  his  head? 

What  is  life  to  a  man  deprived  of  health;  a 
man  delivered  over  to  the  physicians;  a  man 
reduced  to  exist  mechanically,  who  is  nourished 
by  merely  studied  aliments,  who  digests  only 
according  to  the  rules  of  art,  who  is  able  to 
8up|)ort  a  <iying  life  otd}'  by  the  application 
of  remedies  still  rnorc!  disgusting  than  the  very 
maladies  which  tjiey  are  called  in  to  relieve? 

What  is  life  to  a  man  arrived  at  the  age  of 
decrepitude,  who  feels  his  faculties  decaying 
day  by  day,  wlion  hn  perceives  himself  be- 
coming an  objiict  of  pity  and  forbearance  to  all 
around  him,  or  rather  becoming  absolutely  in- 
supportable to  every  one;  when  he  imagines 


he  hears  himself  continually  reproached  with 
being  an  incumbrance  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
and  that  he  is  occupymg,  too  long,  a  place 
which  he  ought  to  resign  to  one  who  might  be 
more  useful  to  society? 

But  this  is  not  the  worst  of  the  case.  No- 
thing more  is  necessary,  in  many  cases,  than 
a  whim,  a  mere  chimera,  to  disturb  the  haj)- 
piest  and  most  sjilendid  condition  of  human 
life. 

Now,  in  which  of  our  days  shall  we  find 
those  pure  joys,  which  no  infusion  of  bitterness 
has  poisoned?  In  which  of  our  days  is  it  possi- 
ble for  us  to  behold  the  perfect  harmony  of 
glory  in  the  state  of  triumph  in  the  church, 
of  vigorous  health,  of  prosperous  fortune,  of 
domestic  peace,  of  mental  tranquillity?  In 
which  of  the  days  of  our  life  did  this  concur- 
rence of  felicities  permit  us  to  consider  our- 
selves as  really  happy? 

Farther,  if,  in  the  ordinary  current  of  our 
days,  we  had  been  deprived  of  only  a  few  of 
the  good  things  of  life,  while  we  possessed  all 
the  rest,  the  great  number  of  those  which  we 
enjoyed,  might  minister  consolation  under  the 
want  of  those  which  Providence  had  been 
pleased  to  withhold.  But  how  often  would 
an  almost  total  destitution  of  good,  and  an  ac- 
cumulation of  wo,  render  life  insupportable, 
did  not  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  or  ra- 
ther, did  not  divine  aid  enable  us  to  bear  the 
ills  of  life? 

Shall  I  have  your  permission,  my  brethren, 
to  go  into  a  detail  (jf  i)arliculars  on  this  head? 
For  my  own  part,  who  have  been  in  this  world 
during  a  period  not  much  longer  than  that 
which  the  children  of  Israel  passed  in  the  wil- 
derness; I  have  scarcely  heard  any  thing  else 
spoken  of,  except  disasters,  desolations,  de- 
structive revolutions.  Scarcely  had  I  begun 
to  know  this  church,  into  which  I  had  been 
admitted  in  baptism,  when  I  was  doomed  to  be 
the  melancholy  spectator  of  the  most  calami- 
tous events  which  can  be  presented  to  the  eyes, 
or  the  im.ngination  of  man.  Have  you  forgot- 
ten them,  my  dear  compatriots,  my  beloved 
companions  in  atHictinn,  have  you  forgotten 
those  days  of  darkness?  Have  you  forgotten 
those  cries  of  the  children  of  Edom:  "  Rase  it, 
rase  it,  even  to  the  foundation  thereof!"  Ps. 
cxxxvii.  7.  Have  you  forgotten  those  dead 
bodies  of  our  brethren,  "  given  to  be  meat  unto 
the  fowls  of  heaven,  tlic  flesh  of  the  saints  unto 
the  bea.sts  of  tlie  earth;  their  blood  shed  like 
water  round  about  Jerusalem,  and  none  to 
bury  them?"  Ps.  Ixxix.  2,  3. 

In  order  to  escape  calamities  so  many  and  so 
grievous,  we  were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
Heeing  from  the  place  of  our  birth.  We  were 
constrained  to  drag  about,  from  place  to  place, 
a  miserable  life,  empoisoned  by  the  fatal  shafts 
which  had  pierced  us.  We  were  constrained 
to  present  objects  of  compassion,  but  often  im- 
portunately troublesome,  to  the  nations  whither 
we  fled  in  quest  of  a  place  of  refuge.  We  were 
reduced  to  the  misery  of  being  incessantly 
haunted  with  the  apprehension  of  failing  in  the 
supplies  neces.sary  to  the  most  pressing  de- 
mands of  life,  and  to  those  of  education,  as 
dear  as  even  the  su])i)ort  of  life. 

Scarcely  did  we  find  ourselves  under  covert 
from  the  tonij)est,  when  we  felt  that  we  were 


Ser.  LXXVIII.] 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


213 


still  exposed  to  it,  in  the  persons  of  those  with 
whom  we  were  united  in  the  tcnderest  bonds. 
"  One  post  run  to  meet  another,  and  one  mes- 
senger to  meut  anotiier:"  to  adopt  the  prophet's 
expression,  Jer.  li.  31,  to  announce  dismal  ti- 
dings. Sometimes  the  message  bore,  that  a 
house  had  been  recently  demolished:  some- 
times that  a  church  had  just  been  sapped  to 
the  foundation:  sometimes  we  heard  the  af- 
fecting iiistory  of  an  undaunted  believer,  but 
whose  intrepidity  iiad  exposed  him  to  the  most 
cruel  torments;  at  anotiier  time,  it  was  of  a 
faint-hearted  Christian  whom  timidity  had  be- 
trayed into  apostacy,  a  tiiousand  times  more  to 
be  deplored  than  tortures  and  death  in  their 
most  horrid  form. 

Received  into  countries  whose  charity  ex- 
tended their  arms  to  embrace  us,  it  seemed  as 
if  we  carried,  wiierever  we  went,  a  part  of 
those  disasters  from  which  we  were  striving  to 
make  our  escape.  For  these  forty  years  past, 
my  brethren,  what  repose  has  ProtosUint  Eu- 
rope enjoyed?  One  war  has  succeeded  to  ano- 
ther war,  one  plague  to  another  plague,  one 
abyss  to  another  abyss.  And  God  knows,  God 
only  knows,  whether  the  calamities  which 
have  for  some  time  pressed  these  states  around 
on  every  side;  God  only  knows,  whether  or 
not  they  are  to  be  but  the  beginning  of  sor- 
rows! God  only  knows  what  may  be  prepar- 
ing for  us  by  that  avenging  arm  which  is  ever 
lifted  up  against  us,  and  that  flaming  sword, 
whose  tremendous  glare  is  incessantly  daz- 
zling our  eyes!  God  only  knows  how  long  our 
bulwarks  against  the  ocean  may  be  able  to 
withstand  those  formidable  shocks,  and  those 
violent  storms,  which  an  insulted  God  is  ex- 
citing to  shatter  them!  God  knows 

But  let  us  not  presume  to  draw  aside  the  veil 
under  which  Providence  has  been  pleased  to 
conceal  the  destiny  of  these  provinces  from  our 
eyes.  It  is  abundantly  evident,  that  were  we 
to  subtract  from  the  number  of  our  days,  those 
heavy  periods  of  existence,  when  we  live  only 
to  suffer;  were  we  to  reckon  the  days  of  pros- 
perity alone,  our  life  would  be  reduced  to  an 
imperceptible  duration;  we  should  not  disco- 
ver any  exaggeration  in  the  expressions  which 
Moses  employs  to  trace  the  image  of  the  life  of 
the  Israelites  in  the  preceding  context:  "  Thou 
turnest  man  to  destruction;  and  sayest.  Re- 
turn, ye  children  of  men:  thou  earnest  them 
away  as  with  a  flood:  they  are  as  asleep:  in 
the  morning  they  are  like  grass  which  grow- 
eth  up:  in  the  morning  it  flourisheth,  and 
groweth  up;  in  the  evening  it  is  cut  down  and 
witliered." 

3.  Let  us  reckon  the  days  of  laiiguor  atid 
weariness,  and  compare  them  with  the  days  of 
delight  and  plcaswe.  This  particular  must  not 
be  confounded  with  the  preceding.  There  is  a 
wide  difference  between  the  days  which  we 
have  called  those  of  advensity,  and  which  we, 
under  this  head,  call  days  of  languor  and  weari 


Let  each  of  us  here  recollect  the  history  of 
his  own  life.  IIow  often  has  a  man  found  him- 
self a  prey  to  languor  and  disgust  in  the  midst 
of  those  very  pleasures  of  life  which  he  had 
conceived  to  be  the  most  lively  and  affecting? 
Objects  in  which  we  generally  take  the  great- 
est delight,  sometimes  depress  us  into  the  most 
intolerable  languor.  It  is  frequently  sufficient 
for  exciting  distaste  in  us  to  an  object,  that  we 
once  doated  on  it;  to  such  a  degree  is  the  will 
of  man  capricious,  fluctuating,  and  inconstant. 
Parlies  of  pleasure  are  sometimes  proposed  and 
formed;  the  place,  the  time,  the  company,  eve- 
ry thing  is  settled  with  the  most  solicitous 
anxietv;  the  hour  is  looked  to  with  eager  im- 
patience, and  nothing  less  is  found  than  what 
the  fond  imagination  had  promised  to  itself.  It 
is  a  mere  phantom,  which  had  an  appearance 
of  solidity,  when  viewed  at  a  distance;  we  ap- 
proach, we  embrace  it,  and  lo!  it  melts  away 
into  air,  "  thin  air." 

The  believer  whose  taste  is  purified,  is  un- 
doubtedly belter  acquainted  with  this  languor, 
when,  amidst  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  there 
occurs  to  his  mind  one  or  another  of  the  re- 
flections which  have  been  suggested,  respect- 
ing the   vanity  of  all  human  things;  when  he 
says  to  himself,  "  Not  one  in  this  social  circle, 
among  whom  I  am  partaking  of  so  many  de- 
lights, but  would  basely  abandon  me,  if  I  stood 
in  need  of  his  assistance,  did  the  happiness  of 
my  life  impose  on  him  the  sacrifice  of  one  of 
the  dishes  of  his  table,  of  one  of  the  horses  of 
his  equipage,   of  one  of  the  trees  of  his  gar- 
dens."    When  stating  a  comparison  between 
the  tide  of  pleasure  into  which  he  was  going  to 
plunge,  and  those  which  religion  has  procured 
him,  he  thus  reflects:   "  This  is  not   the  joy 
which  I    taste,  when  alone  with  my  God,  I 
pour  out  before  him  a  soul  inflamed  to  rapture 
with  his  love,  and  when  I  collect,  in  rich  pro- 
fusion, tlie  tokens  of  his  grace."    When  com- 
ing to  perceive  that  he  has  indulged  rather  too 
far  in  social  mirth,  which  is  lawful  only  when 
restrained  within  certain  bounds,  he  says  with- 
in himself,  "  Are  such  objects  worthy  of  the 
regard  of  an  immortal  soul?  are  these  my  di- 
vinities?" Then  it  is  he  feels  himself  oppressed 
with  languor  and  disgust;  then  it  is  that  ob- 
jects,  once   so  eagerly  desired,   are  regarded 
with  coldness  or  aversion.     Hence  that  seri- 
ousness which   overspreads   his  countenance, 
hence  that  pensive  silence  into  which  he  falls, 
in  spite  of  every  effort  to  the  contrary,  hence 
certain  gloomy  reflections  which  involuntarily 
arise  in  his  soul. 

But  this  languor  is  not  peculiar  to  those 
whose  taste  piety  has  refined.  There  is  a  re- 
markable difference,  however,  in  this  respect, 
between  the  men  of  the  world,  and  believers; 
namely,  that  the  disgust,  which  these  last  feel 
in  the  pleasures  of  life,  engages  them  in  the 
pursuit  of  purer  joys,  in  exercises  of  devotion; 
whereas  the  others  give  up  the  pursuit  of  one 


iiess.  Hy  days  of  adversity,  we  meant  those  I  worldly  delight,  only  to  hunt  after  a  new  one, 
seasons  of  life,  in  which  the  privation  of  some  '  equally  empty  and  unsatisfying  with  that  which 
worldly  good,  and  the  concurrence  of  many  they  had  renounced.  From  that  scanty  por- 
evils,  render  us  actually  miserable.  By  days  of  I  tion  of  life,  in  which  we  enjoy  prosperity,  we 
languor  and  weariness  we  now  mean  those  in  I  must  go  on  to  subtract  that  other  portion,  in 
which  exemption  from  the  ills  of  life,  or  the  which  prosperity  is  insipid  to  us.  Calculate, 
possession  of  its  good  things,  leaves  the  mind  if  you  can,  the  poor  amount  of  what  remains 
void  and  dissatisfied.  I  after  this  subtraction. 


214 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


[Sir.  LXXVIII. 


4.  I^t  lis  reckon  tlio  daijs  wliicli  we  have 
devoted  to  the  vnrld,  unt\  compnro  llioin  willi 
thoae  wliitli  wo  liiivo  divoted  to  reli^mi.  Hu- 
miliiilinjj  coiupututioii!  Hut  1  tiiko  il  for  grunt- 
ed, tliat  in  yo'T  présent  circuinstanccs,  it  has 
hocn  rdndi-reil  faniiliiir  to  your  tlioujjlits. 
I'liristiims  who  luivo  hi'on  just  concluding  tlie 
year  witli  a  parlicipaliun  of  Iht!  luily  orihnanco 
oftho  Lord's  Stip|>or,  could  liardly  fail  to  have 
put  this  question  to  tlicir  consciences,  wlicn 
oniployeii  in  self-cxannnation,  preparatory  to 
that  soleuni  service:  U'/iii/  pnijtitrtwn  of  mij 
time  luvt  hem  e^itrn  to  Hod/  ti'liut  fiioportion  of 
it  has  been  pi^en  to  the  world.'  And  it  is  sulli- 
cient  barely  to  propose  the  discussion  of  these 
questions,  to  come  to  this  melancholy  conclu- 
Hion:  That  the  jiortion  of  our  life,  which  alono 
deserves  to  ho  considered  as  containing  somo- 
thiiifj  solid  and  suhstantial,  1  mean  iTie  j)or- 
tion  whicli  has  been  >rivon  to  (îod,  is  of  a  du- 
ration so  short  as  to  he  almost  imperceptihle, 
when  compared  with  the  years  which  the  world 
lias  engrossed. 

6.  1  proceed  to  the  last  computation  pro- 
posed. What  is  the  amount  of  tliis  total  of 
iiuinan  life  which  wo  have  thus  arraiiired  in 
ditlerent  columns?  What  is  the  sum  of  this 
compound  account  of  days  of  notliingness  and 
days  of  reality;  of  days  of  i)ros])erity  and  days 
of  atlliction;  of  days  of  languor  and  days  of 
delight-,  of  days  devoted  to  the  world,  and 
days  devoted  to  religion?  My  brethren,  il  is 
God,  it  is  God  alone,  who  holds  our  times  in 
liis  hand,  to  ado|)t  the  idea  of  the  prophet,  Ps. 
xxxi.  15;  ho  alone  can  make  an  accurate  cal- 
culation of  them.  And  as  he  alone  has  fixed 
the  term  of  our  life,  he  only  is  likewise  capable 
of  knowing  it.  It  is  not  absolutely  impossible, 
however,  to  asccriain  what  shall  be,  in  respect 
of  time,  the  temporal  destination  of  those  who 
lioar  me  this  day.  Let  me  su|)pose  that  the 
|)rosent  solonmity  has  drawn  togetiior  an  us- 
MMiibly  of  eighteen  hundred  persons.  1  sub- 
divide these  ISOO  into  six  ditVerent  chusses. 

The  1st  consisting  of  persons  from  10  to  20 
years  of  age,  amounting  to    . 

2d  from  20  to  30  amounting  to 


3d 
4th 
&th 
6th 


30  to  -to       ,     . 
40  to  50       .     . 
60  to  60 
60  and  upwards 


530 
4J0 
345 
256 
160 
10 

1800 


According  to  the  most  exact  calculation  of 
those  who  have  made  such  kind  of  researches 
their  study,  each  of  these  clas.scs  must,  in  the 
course  of  this  year,  jiresent  to  death,  a  tribute 
of  ten  persons.  On  this  computation,  sixty  of 
mv  present  hearers  must,  before  tlie  beginning 
ol  another  year,  Ih3  numbered  with  the  dead. 
Conformably  to  the  same  rate  of  coni|)utation, 
in    10  yuarti,  of  the  1800  now  present  there 

will  remain 1210 

la  20  years,  only 830 

In  30 480 

In  40 2.10 

In  60  years,  no  more  will  lie  left  than  10 
Thiu  you  see,  my  brethren,  in  what  a  per- 
petual tlux  the  human  race  is.  The  world  is 
a  vait  Uio&lre,  in  which  every  one  appears  his 
moment  upon  the  stage,  and  in  a  moment  dis- 
appears.    Every   successive    iiiBtant    presents 


différent  scenery,  a  new  decoration.  1  repre- 
sent these  vicis.situdes  to  myself,  under  the  em- 
blem of  what  is  felt  by  a  man  who  is  employed 
in  turning  over  the  pages  of  history.  He 
pores  over  his  book,  he  beholds  on  this  leaf, 
one  people,  one  king;  he  turns  it,  and  lo, 
other  laws,  other  maxims,  other  actors,  which 
have  no  manner  of  relation  to  what  preceded 
them! 


SERMON  LXXVIII. 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 
I'ART  II. 


Psalm  xc.  12. 
So  teach  MS  to  number  our  days,  that  tee  may  ap- 
ply our  hearts  unto  tcisdum. 

We  have  seen  to  what  a  measure  human 
life  is  reduced.  To  be  made  sensible  of  this 
is  a  very  high  attainment  in  knowledge;  but 
it  is  of  still  higher  importunée,  thence  to  de- 
duce conclusions,  which  have  a  tendency  to  re- 
gulate the  workings  of  your  mind,  the  emo- 
tions of  your  heart,  the  conduct  of  your  life: 
and  to  assist  you  in  this,  is 

11.  The  second  object  whicli  we  proposed  to 
ourselves  in  this  discourse.  This  is  what  the 
))ropliet  asks  of  (Jod  in  the  text,  this  we  would 
earnestly  implore  in  your  belmlt',  and  this 
prayer  wo  wish  you  to  adopt  for  yourselves: 
"  Lord,  so  teach  us  to  iiuniber  our  days,  that 
we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 

1.  The  first  conclusion  deducible  from  tlie 
representation  given,  is  this:  the  vanity  of  the 
life  which  now  is,  atfords  the  clearest  proof  of 
the  life  to  come.  This  proof  is  sensible,  and  it 
possesses  two  advantages  over  all  tlioso  which 
philosophy  supplies,  towards  demonstrating 
the  immortality  of  the  soul.  The  proof  of  our 
iinniortality,  taken  from  the  spirituality  of  the 
soul,  has,  perhaps,  a  great  deal  of  solidity;  but 
it  is  neitiier  so  sensible,  nor  so  incontestable.  I 
am  lost  when  I  attemi>t  to  carry  my  metaphy- 
sical 8])oculatioiis  into  the  interior  of  substan- 
ces. 1  do  not  well  know  what  to  reply  to  on 
opponent  who  pres.ses  me  with  such  questions 
as  tiiese:  "  Do  you  know  every  tiling  that  a 
substance  is  capable  of?  Are  your  intellectual 
powers  such  as  to  qualify  you  to  pronounco 
this  decision.  Such  a  substance  is  capable  only 
of  this,  and  such  another  only  of  </i(iJ."  This 
ditBculty,  at  least,  always  recurs,  namely,  that 
a  soul,  spiritual  and  immortal  of  its  own  na- 
ture, may  be  deprived  of  immortality,  should 
it  please  that  Cîod  who  called  it  into  existence, 
to  reduce  it  to  a  stale  of  annihilation. 

But  the  proof  which  we  have  alleged  is  sen- 
sible, it  is  incontestable.  I  can  make  the  force 
of  it  to  bo  felt  by  a^ieasant,  by  an  artisan,  by 
tlio  dullest  of  human  beings.  And  1  am  bold 
enough  to  bid  defiance  to  tlio  aciilest  genius, 
to  the  most  dexterous  sophist,  to  ailvanco  any 
thing  that  deserves  the  name  of  reiusoning  in 
contradiction  to  it.  How!  Is  it  possible  that 
this  soul,  capable  of  retlecting,  of  reasoning,  of 
laying  down  j>riiiciples,  of  deducing  conse- 
quences, of  knowing  its  Creator,  and  of  serv- 
ing him,  should  have  been  created  for  tlie  pur- 


Ser.  LXXVIII.] 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


215 


po80  merely  of  antinp  tlio  poor  part  wliich  man 
tills  on  tlio  earlli?  I  low!  tlio  potila  of  tlioKO 
myriadfl  of  iiifantH,  who  dio  licforo  tlicy  arc 
born,  to  bo  annihilated,  after  having  uniinaliMl, 
for  a  few  months,  an  embryo,  a.  mass  of  unfi- 
nished organs,  which  nature  did  not  diMijn  to 
carry  on  to  perfection?  How!  liio  Ahrahiiins, 
the  MososoH,  the  Davids,  and  the  muitiludeH 
of  those  other  holy  men,  to  whom  God  made 
80  many  and  such  çracious  promisim,  shall  they 
cease  to  he,  after  having  been  "strangers  and 
pilgrims  upon  the  earth?"  Mow!  that  "cloud  of 
witnesses,"  who,  rather  than  deny  the  truth, 
submitted  to  bo  "stoned,"  to  he  "  sawn  asun- 
der," to  bo  "  tempted,"  to  be  "slain  with  tiie 
sword,"  who  "  wandcn^d  ai)out  in  sheep-skins, 
and  goat-skins,  being  destitute,  alllicled,  tor- 
mented?" Ileb.  xi.  I;5.  37.  How!  that  "cloud 
of  witnesses"  evaporate  into  smoke,  and  tlio 
souls  of  martyrs  piuss  into  annihilation  amidst 
tho  tortmes  irillicted  by  an  (vteeutiontir!  Ye 
confessors  of  .Jesus  Christ,  who  have  borne  his 
reproach  for  thirty  ycMirs  together,  who  have 
yielded  u|i  your  back  to  the  rod  of  a  tormentor, 
who  have  lived  a  life  more  painful  than  death 
in  its  most  horrid  form!  You  to  have  no  other 
reward  of  all  your  labours  and  sutferings,  ex- 
cept those  poor  gratuities  which  man  bestows 
after  you  have  finished  your  career?  How! 
those  noble  faculties  of  soul  bestowed  on  man, 
merely  to  sit  for  a  few  years  upon  a  tribunal, 
for  a  few  years  to  dip  into  arts  and  sciences? 
.  .  .  What  brain  could  digest  the  thought! 
What  subtility  of  metaphysical  research,  what 
ingeniousness  of  sophistry,  can  enfeeble  the 
proof  derived  from  su(;h  appeafanccs  as  tiiese! 
O  brevity  of  tho  present  economy!  O  vanity 
of  human  life!  O  miseries  u|)on  miseries  witli 
which  my  days  are  depressed,  distracted,  em- 
poisoned, I  will  complain  of  you  no  longer!  1 
behold  light  the  most  cheering;  tho  most  trans- 
porting, ready  to  burst  forth  from  the  bosom 
of  that  gloomy  night  into  which  you  have 
plunged  me!  You  conduct  mo  to  tiie  grand, 
the  animating  doctrine  of  innnortality!  Tho 
vanity  of  tho  present  life,  is  tho  proof  of  tho 
life  which  is  to  come.  This  is  our  first  con- 
clusion. 

2.  Tho  second  conclusion  we  deduce  is  this: 
neither  the  good  things,  nor  tho  evil,  of  a  life 
which  passes  away  with  so  nmch  rajiidity, 
ought  to  make  a  very  deep  impression  on  a 
soul  whose  duration  is  eternal.  Do  not  tax 
mo  of  extravagance.  I  have  no  intention  to 
preach  a  hyperbolical  morality,  1  do  not  mean 
to  maintain  such  a  wild  position  us  this,  "  That 
there  is  no  reality  in  eillier  the  enjoymenta  or 
tho  distresses  of  life;  that  there  is  a  mixture 
in  every  human  condition,  which  reduces  all 
to  equality;  that  the  man  who  sits  at  a  plenti- 
ful table  is  nut  a  whit  happier  than  tho  man 
who  begs  his  bread."  This  is  not  our  gospel. 
Teujporal  evils  are  unquestionably  real.  Were 
this  life  of  very  long  duration,  1  would  deem 
tho  condition  of  the  rich  man  incomparably 
preferable  to  that  of  the  poor;  that  of  tlio  man 
who  commands,  to  that  of  him  who  obeys; 
that  of  one  who  enjoys  perfect  health,  to  that 
of  one  who  is  stretched  on  a  bed  of  languish- 
ing. Hut  however  real  the  enjoymcnis  and 
the  distresses  of  life  may  bo  in  themselves, 
their  transient  duration  invalidates  that  reality. 


You,  who  liavo  passed  thirty  years  in  afllliction! 
thiTo  aro  thirty  years  of  painful  existence  va- 
nishtul  away.  You,  whoso  woes  have  been 
lengthened  out  to  forty  years!  there  are  forty 
years  of  a  life  of  sorrow  vanished  away.  And 
you,  who,  for  these  thirty,  forty,  filty  years 
past,  have  been  living  at  ease,  and  drowned  in 
pl(;asuru!  What  is  become  of  those  years? 
The  time  which  both  the  one  and  the  other 
li;is  yet  In  live,  is  scarcely  worth  the  reckoning, 
and  is  Hying  away  with  tho  sariK!  ra|Mdity.  If 
the  brevity  of  lift)  does  not  render  all  <;ondi- 
ticjiis  eipml,  it  fills  up,  at  least,  the  greatest 
part  of  that  abyss  which  cupidity  had  placed 
betw(!cn  them.  Lot  us  reform  our  ideas;  let 
us  correct  our  stylo:  do  not  let  us  call  a  man 
happy  because  he  is  in  health;  do  not  let  us 
cull  a  sick  man  miserable:  let  us  not  call  that 
absolute  felicity,  which  is  only  Iwrrowed,  tran- 
sitory, ready  to  llee  away  with  life  itself.  Im- 
mortal beings  ought  to  make  innnortality  tho 
standard  by  wliic-h  to  regulate  their  ideas  of 
happiness  and  misery.  Neither  the  good  things, 
nor  tho  evil,  of  a  life  so  transient,  ought  to 
make  a  very  deep  impression  on  a  soul  whoso 
duration  is  eternal.  This  was  our  second  con- 
clusion. 

3.  Dut  if  I  be  immortal,  what  have  I  to  do 
among  the  dying?  If  1  be  destined  to  a  never- 
ending  dur:Uion,  wherefore  am  I  doomed  to 
drag  out  a  miserable  life  upon  the  earth?  If 
the  blessings  and  the  miseries  of  this  life  aro 
so  disproportionate  to  my  natural  greatness, 
wherefore  havo  they  been  given  to  me? 
Wherefore  does  the  C'reator  take  a  kind  of 
pleasure  in  laying  snares  for  my  innocence,  by 
presenting  to  mo  delights  which  may  become 
tho  source  of  everlasting  misery;  and  by  con- 
ducting me  to  eternal  felicity,  through  tho 
sacrifice  of  every  present  comfort'  This  dif- 
ficulty, my  brethren,  this  pressing  dilliculty 
leads  us  to 

A  third  conclusion:  this  life  is  a  season  of 
probation,  assigned  to  us  for  the  purpose  of 
making  our  choice  between  everlasting  happi- 
ness or  mi.sery.  This  life,  considered  as  it  is 
in  ilaelf,  is  an  object  of  contempt.  We  may 
say  of  it,  with  the  sacred  writer,  that  it  is  "  a 
shadow  wliich  posseth  away;"  "  a  vanity," 
which  has  nothing  real  and  solid;  "  a  flower 
which  fadeth;"  "  griiss"  which  withers  and  is 
cut  down;  "  a  vapour"  which  dis.«olvcs  into 
air;  "  a  dream"  which  leaves  no  trace  after  the 
sleep  is  gone;  "  a  thought"  which  presents  it- 
self to  the  mind,  but  abides  not;  "  an  aj)pari- 
tion,  a  nothing"  before  God. 

But  when  we  contemplate  this  life,  in  its  re- 
lation to  the  great  end  which  God  proposes  to 
himself  in  bestowing  it  upon  us,  let  us  form 
exalted  ideas  of  it.  Let  us  carefully  compute 
all  ita  subdivisions;  let  us  husband,  with  scru- 
pulous attention,  all  the  instants  of  it,  even  tho 
most  minute  and  imperceptible;  let  us  regret 
the  precious  moments  which  we  have  irreco- 
verably lost.  For  this  shadow  which  passes, 
this  vanity  which  haa  nothing  real  and  solid, 
this  Jloicer  which  fades,  this  grass  which  is  cut 
down  and  withers,  this  vapour  which  melts  into 
air,  this  forgotten  dream,  this  transient  tlwughlf 
this  apparition  destitute  of  body  and  substance, 
this  nothing,  this  span  of  life,  so  vile  and  con- 
temptible, is  time  which  wo  must  redeem,  Eph. 


216 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


[Ser.  LXXVIII. 


V.  16;  "  a  time  of  visitation"  which  we  must 
knmc,  Lake  xix.  44;  "a  time  accepted,  a  day 
of  Balvation"  which  we  must  improve,  2  Cor. 
vi.  2;  a  period  of  "  forbearance,  and  long-suf- 
fering" which  we  must  embrace,  Rom.  ii.  4;  a 
time  beyond  whicii  "  there  shall  be  time  no 
longer,"  Rev.  x.  6,  because  after  life  is  finished, 
tears  are  unavailing,  sighs  are  impotent,  pray- 
ers are  disregarded,  and  repentance  is  ineffec- 
tual.    We  proceed  to  deduce  a 

4.  Fourth  conclusion.  A  life  through  which 
more  time  has  been  devoted  to  a  present  world, 
than  to  preparation  for  eternity,  corresponds 
not  to  the  views  which  the  Creator  proposed 
to  himself,  when  he  placed  us  in  this  economy 
of  expectation.  We  were  placed  in  this  state 
of  probation,  not  to  sleep,  to  eat,  and  to  drink; 
we  were  placed  here  to  prepare  for  eternity. 
If,  therefore,  we  have  devoted  more  of  our 
time  to  such  functions  as  these,  than  to  prepa- 
ration for  eternity;  if,  at  least,  we  have  not 
adapted  these  functions  to  the  leading  object 
of  eternity;  if  we  have  not  been  governed  by 
that  maxim  of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  x.  31:  "  Whe- 
ther ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do 
all  to  the  glory  of  God,"  we  certainly  have  not 
conformed  to  the  views  which  the  Creator  pro- 
posed to  himself,  in  placing  us  under  this  eco- 
nomy of  expectation  and  trial. 

We  were  placed  in  this  state  of  probation, 
not  merely  to  labour  for  the  provision  and  es- 
tablishment of  our  families;  we  are  placed  here 
to  prepare  for  eternity.  If,  therefore,  we  have 
devoted  more  of  our  time  and  attention  to  the 
provision  and  establishment  of  our  families, 
than  to  preparation  for  eternity;  if,  at  least,  we 
have  not  adapted  to  the  leading  object  of  eter- 
nity, our  solicitudes  and  exertions  in  behalf  of 
our  families,  we  certainly  have  not  conformed 


viated  from  the  views  of  his  Creator,  present 
to  God  this  day,  a  heart  overflowing  with  gra- 
titude, that  this  tremendous  sentence  has  not 
yet  been  fulminated  against  him:  "  Give  an 
account  of  thy  stewardship,"  Luke  xvi.  2.  It 
is  for  this  that  life  ought  to  be  prized  as  infi- 
nitely dear;  for  this  we  have  unspeakable 
cause  to  rejoice,  that  we  still  behold  the  light 
of  this  day. 

"  I  have  been  in  the  world  these  thirty,  forty, 
threescore  years;  and  ever  since  I  arrived  at 
the  exercise  of  reason,  and  felt  the  power  of 
conscience,  I  have  enjoyed  every  advant:ige  to- 
wards attaining  the  knowledge,  and  exhibiting 
the  practice  of  religion.  Every  display  of 
mercy,  and  every  token  of  fatherly  displeasure 
have  been  employed  to  reclaim  me.  Not  a 
book  written  to  convince  the  understanding, 
but  what  has  been  put  into  m}'  hands;  not  a 
sermon  calculated  to  move  and  to  melt  the 
heart,  but  what  has  been  addressed  to  my  ears. 
My  corruption  has  proved  too  powerlul  for 
them  all.  My  life  has  been  a  tissue,  if  not  of 
enormous  crimes,  at  least  of  dissipation  and 
thoughtlessness.  If  at  any  time  I  have  shaken 
off  my  habits  of  listlessness  and  inaction,  it  was 
usually  only  to  run  into  excesses,  which  have 
already  precipitated  so  many  precious  souls 
into  hell.  When  visited  with  sickness,  when 
death  seemed  to  stare  me  in  the  face,  I  seemed 
to  behold,  collected  into  one  fatal  moment,  all 
the  sins  of  my  life,  and  all  the  dreadful  pun- 
ishments which  they  deserve.  I  carried  a  hell 
within  me;  I  believed  myself  to  be  encom- 
passed by  demons  and  flames  of  fire;  I  became 
my  own  executioner,  when  I  called  to  remem- 
brance that  wretched  time  which  I  had  lavish- 
ed on  the  world  and  its  lying  vanities;  and  I 
would  have  sacrificed  my  life  a  thousand  and 


to  the  views  which  the  Creator  proposed  to  him-    a  thousand  times  to  redeem  it,  had  God  put  it 


self,  in  placing  us  under  this  economy  of  ex- 
pectation and  trial. 

We  were  placed  in  this  state  of  probation, 
not  merely  to  govern  states,  to  cultivate  arts 
and  sciences;  we  are  placed  he»e  to  prepare 
for  eternity.  If,  therefore,  we  have  not  direct- 
ed all  our  anxieties  and  exertions,  on  such  sub- 
jects as  these,  to  the  leading  object  of  eternity, 
we  certainly  have  not  conformed  to  the  views 
which  the  Creator  proposed  to  himself,  in  plac- 
ing us  under  this  economy  of  expectation  and 
trial.  Imagine  not  that  we  shall  be  judged 
according  to  the  ideas  which  we  ourselves  are 
pleased  to  form  of  our  vocation.  Wo  are  un- 
der an  economy  of  expectation  and  trial:  time 
then  is  given  us,  that  we  may  prepare  for  eter- 
nity. A  life,  therefore,  through  which  more 
time  and  attention  have  been  devoted  to  the 
pursuits  of  this  world,  than  to  preparation  for 
eternity;  corresponds  not  to  the  views  which 
the  Creator  proposed  to  himself,  when  he  placed 
us  under  this  economy  of  expectation  and  trial. 
This  is  the  fourth  conclusion. 

5.  We  go  on  to  deduce  a  fifth.  A  sinner 
who  has  not  conformed  to  the  views  which 
God  proposed  to  himself  in  placing  him  under 
an  economy  of  discipline  and  probation,  ought 
to  pour  out  his  soul  in  thanksgiving,  that  God 
is  graciously  pleased  still  to  lengthen  it  out. 
Let  each  of  you  who,  on  taking  a  review  of 


in  my  power;  I  would  have  given  the  whole 
world  to  bring  back  but  one  poor  moment  of 
that  precious  time  which  I  had  so  prodigally 
squandered  away;  and  God  in  mercy  ineffable, 
is  still  prolonging  that  day  of  visitation." 

6.  Finally,  we  farther  deduce  a  sixth  conclu- 
sion. Creatures,  in  whose  favour  God  is 
pleased  still  to  lengthen  out  the  day  of  grace, 
the  economy  of  long-suffering,  which  they  have 
improved  to  so  little  purpose,  ought  no  longer 
to  delay,  no  not  for  a  moment,  to  avail  them- 
selves of  a  reprieve  so  graciously  intended. 
Creatures  who  stand  on  the  brink  of  the  grave, 
and  who  have  too  just  ground  to  fear  that  they 
should  be  thrust  into  hell,  were  the  grave  im- 
mediately to  swallow  them  up,  ought  instantly 
to  form  a  new  plan  of  life,  and  instantly  to  set 
about  the  execution  of  it.  I  conjure  you,  my 
brethren,  by  the  gospel  of  this  day,  I  conjure 
you  by  all  that  is  powerful,  all  that  is  interest- 
ing, all  that  is  tender,  in  the  solemnity  which 
we  are  now  assembled  to  celebrate,  and  in  that 
of  last  Lord's  day:  I  conjure  you  to  enter  in 
good  earnest  into  the  spirit  of  this  reflection, 
to  keep  it  constantly  in  view  through  every 
instant  of  the  years  which  the  patience  of 
God  may  still  grant  you,  to  make  it  as  it  were 
the  rule  of  all  your  designs,  all  your  undertak- 
ings, of  all  your  exertions.  Without  this  we 
can  do  nothing  for   you.     The  most  ardent 


his  own  life,  must  bear  the  dreadful  testimony  i  prayers  which  we  could  address  to  heaven  on 
against  biouelf,  that  be  has  most  miserably  de- 1  your  behalf,  this  day,  would  be  as  ineffectual 


Ser.  LXXVIII.] 


ON  NUMBERING  OUR  DAYS. 


217 


as  those  which  Moses  formerly  presciileJ  in 
behalf  of  the  children  of  Israel,  to  obtain  a 
revocation  of  that  awful  doom;  "  I  sware  in 
my  wrath,  that  they  should  not  enter  into  my 
rest,"  Ps.  xcv.  11.  Hut  if,  on  the  contrary, 
you  are  wise  to  admit  tiie  word  of  exhortation, 
we  are  warranted  to  hold  up  our  wislies  for 
your  salvation,  as  so  many  promises  sealed, 
with  that  seal  of  God  wiiich  standcth  sure,  and 
immediately  emanating  from  the  mouth  of  that 
God,  the  Lord  who  changeth  not. 

APPLICATION. 

I  have  emhraced  with  avidity,  my  dearly 
beloved  brctliren,  the  oi)portunity  of  contribut- 
ing to  the  present  solemnity,  to  come  to  you 
at  a  juncture  so  desirable,  and  to  bring  to  you 
the  word  of  life,  at  a  season  when  I  am  at  li- 
berty to  unfold  to  you  a  heart  wliich  has  ever 
been  penetrated  with  a  respectful  tenderness 
for  this  city  and  for  this  church.  Deign  to  ac- 
cept my  affectionate  good  wishes,  with  senti- 
ments conformable  to  those  which  dictated 
them. 

Venerable  magistrates,  to  whose  hands  Pro- 
vidence has  committed  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment, you  are  exalted  to  a  station  which  our 
devotions  contemplate  with  respect!  But  we 
are  the  ministers  of  a  Master  whose  commands 
control  the  universe;  and  it  is  from  the  inex- 
haustible source  of  his  greatness,  of  his  riches, 
of  his  magnificence,  that  we  draw  the  bene- 
dictions which  we  this  day  pronounce  upon 
your  august  heads.  May  God  vouchsafe  to 
inspire  you  with  that  dignity  of  sentiment, 
that  magnanimity,  that  noble  ambition,  which 
enable  the  sovereigns  to  whom  he  has  entrust- 
ed the  sword  of  his  justice,  to  found  on  the 
basis  of  justice,  all  their  designs,  and  all  their 


fortune.  The  religion  wliich  we  profess,  per- 
mits us  not  to  aspire  after  those  proud  titles, 
those  posts  of  distinction,  those  splendid  reti 
nucs  which  confound  the  ministers  of  temporal 
princes  with  the  ministers  of  that  Jesus  whose 
kiui^dom  is  not  of  this  world.  But  whatever  we 
lose  with  respect  to  those  advantages  which 
dax/le  the  senses,  is  am])ly  compensated  to  us 
in  real  and  solid  blessings;  at  least,  if  we  our- 
selves understand  that  religion  which  we  make 
known  to  others,  and  if  we  have  a  due  sense 
of  that  high  vocation  with  which  we  are  ho- 
noured of  God.  May  that  God,  who  has  con- 
ferred this  honour  upon  us,  vouchsafe  to  endow 
us  with  that  illumination,  and  with  those  vir- 
tues, witliout  which  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
discharge  the  duties  of  it  in  a  becoming  man- 
ner! May  he  vouchsafe  to  bestow  upon  us  that 
courage,  that  intrejiidity,  which  are  necessary 
to  our  effectually  resisting  the  enemies  of  our 
holy  reformation;  nay,  those  too,  who,  under 
the  name  of  reformed,  do  their  utmost  to 
thwart  and  to  undermine  it!  May  he  vouch- 
safe to  support  us  amidst  the  incessant  difficul- 
ties and  oppositions  which  we  have  to  encoun- 
ter, through  the  course  of  our  ministry,  and  to 
animate  us  by  the  idea  of  those  supereminent 
degrees  of  glory,  which  await  tiiose,  who,  after 
having  "  turned  many  to  righteousness,  shall 
shine  as  t!,e  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and 
as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever!" 

INIerchants,  ye  who  are  the  support  of  this 
Republic,  and  who  maintain  in  the  midst  of  us 
prosperity  and  abundance,  may  God  vouchsafe 
to  continue  this  blessing  upon  your  commerce! 
May  God  cause  the  winds  and  the  waves,  na- 
ture and  the  elements,  to  unite  their  influences 
in  your  favour!  But  above  all,  may  God 
vouchsafe  to  teach  you  the  great  art  of  "  plac- 


decisions!     May  it  please  God  to  inspire  you    ing  your  heart  tliere  where  your  treasure  is; 


with  that  charity,  that  condescension,  that  affa- 
bility, which  sink  the  master  in  tiie  father! 
May  it  please  God  to  inspire  you  with  that 
humility,  that  self-abasement,  which  engage 
Christian  magistrates  to  deposit  all  their  power 
at  the  feet  of  (iod,  and  to  consider  it  as  their 
highest  glory  to  render  unto  him  a  faithful  ac- 
count of  their  administration!  That  account 
is  a  solemn  one.  You  are,  to  a  certain  degree, 
responsible,  not  only  for  the  temporal,  but  for 
the  eternal  happiness  of  this  people.  The 
eternal  happiness  of  a  nation  frequently  de- 
pends on  the  measures  adopted  by  their  gover- 
nors, on  the  care  which  they  employ  to  curb 
licentiousness,  to  suppress  scandalous  publica- 
tions, to  procure  respect  for  the  ordinances  of 
religion,  and  to  supply  the  church  with  on- 


to make  to  yourselves  friends  of  the  mammon 
of  unrighteousness;"  to  sanctify  your  prosperi- 
ty by  your  charities,  especially  on  a  day  like 
this,  on  which  every  one  ought  to  prescribe  to 
himself  the  law  of  paying  a  homage  of  charity 
to  God  who  is  love,  and  whose  love  has  spared 
us  to  behold  the  light  of  this  day! 

Fathers  and  mothers,  with  whom  it  is  so  de- 
licious for  me  to  blend  myself,  under  an  ad- 
dress so  deeply  interesting,  may  God  enable  us 
to  view  our  children,  not  as  beings  limited  to 
a  present  world,  but  as  beings  endowed  with 
an  immortal  soul,  and  formed  for  eternity! 
May  it  please  God  to  impress  infinitely  more 
upon  our  hearts  the  desire  of  one  day  behold- 
ing them  among  the  blessed  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  than  going  on  and  prospering  on  the 


lightened,  zealous,  and  faithful  pastors.  But  I  earth!  May  God  grant  us  the  possession  of 
magistrates  who  propose  to  themselves  views  i  objects  so  endeared  to  the  very  close  of  life, 
of  such  extensive  utility  and  importance,  are  objects  so  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  life! 
warranted  to  expect  from  God,  all  the  aid  ne-  May  God  vouchsafe,  if  he  is  pleased  to  take 
cessary  to  the  accomplishment  of  them.  And  them  away  from  us,  to  grant  us  that  submission 
this  aid,  great  God,  we  presume  to  implore  in  to  his  will,  which  enables  us  to  support  a  cala- 
beiuilf  of  these  illustrious  personages!  May  our  I  mitv  so  severe! 
voice  pierce  the  heavens,  may  our  prayers  be  ;      My  dearly  beloved  bretjiren,  this  reflection 


crowned  with  an  answer  of  peace! 

Pastors,  my.  dear  companions  in  the  great 
plan  of  salvation,  ye  successors  of  apostolic 
men  in  the  edlfy'uig  of  the  body  of  Christ,  and 
in  the  u-ork  of  the  ministry!  God  has  set  very 
narrow  bounds  to  what  is  called  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  world,  our  advancement  and  our 
Vol.  II.— 28 


chokes  my  utterance.  INIay  God  vouchsafe  to 
hear  all  the  wishes  and  prayers  which  my  heart 
has  conceived,  and  which  my  lips  have  utter- 
ed, and  all  those  which  I  am  constrained  to 
suppress,  and  which  are  more  in  number  than 
the  tongue  is  able  to  declare!     Amen. 


218 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


[Ser.  LXXIX. 


SERMON  LXXIX. 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRIS- 
TIAN. 

PART  I. 


Galatians  vi.  14. 

But  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  m  the 
cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  k7»ohi  the 
world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I  unto  the 
world. 

The  solemnity  which  in  a  few  days  we  are 
going  to  celebrate,  I  mean  the  Ascension  of 
Jesus  Christ,  displays  the  triumph  of  the  cross. 
The  Saviour  of  tiie  world  ascending  in  a  cloud, 
received  up  into  heaven  amidst  the  acclama- 
tions of  the  church  trium{)hant,  removes  tiie 
offence  given  by  the  Saviour  of  the  world 
hanging  on  a  tree.  The  period  of  the  cruci- 
fixion, I  acknowledge,  was  precisely  that  in 
which  he  carried  magnanimity  to  its  most  ex- 
alted pitch.  Never  did  he  appear  so  truly 
great  as  when  "  descended  into  the  lower  parts 
of  the  earth,"  Epii.  iv.  9;  "  humbled,  made  of 
no  reputation,  obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross,"  Phil.  ii.  7,  8;  he  accom- 
plished what  was  most  repulsive  to  nature,  in 
the  plan  of  redemption.  But  how  difficult  is 
it  to  recognise  heroism,  when  the  hero  termi- 
nates his  career  upon  a  scaffold! 

The  darkness  which  overspread  the  mystery 
of  the  cross,  is  passing  away;  the  veils  which 
concealed  the  glory  of  Jesus  Christ,  begin  to 
withdraw;  heaven,  which  seemed  to  have  con- 
spired with  earth  and  with  hell  to  depress  and 
overwhelm  him,  declares  aloud  in  his  favour; 
his  splendour  bursts  out  of  obscurity,  and  his 
glory  from  the  very  bosom  of  shame:  because 
"  he  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took 
upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant;  because  he 
humbled  himself;  because  he  became  obedient 
unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross:  there- 
fore God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and 
given  him  a  name  which  is  above  every  name; 
that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should 
bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth, 
and  things  under  the  earth,"  Phil.  ii.  9,  10. 

What  circumstances  more  proper  could  we 
have  selected.  Christians,  to  induce  you  to  seek 
your  glory  in  the  cross  of  your  Saviour,  than 
those  which  display  it,  followed  by  so  much 
pomp  and  magnificence?  I  am  going  to  pro- 
pose to  you  as  a  model  the  man  who  of  all 
others  best  understood  the  mystery  of  the  cross: 
for  my  part,  says  he  in  the  words  which  I  have 
read,  "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in 
the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom 
the  world  is  crucified  unto  mo,  and  I  unto  the 
world."  Let  us  meditate  on  this  subject  with 
all  that  application  of  thought  which  it  so  justly 
raeriti. 

And  thou  great 'High  Priest,  "  Minister  of 
the  true  tabernacle!  thou  holy,  harmless,  un- 
de&led,  separate  from  sinners,  and  made  higher 
than  the  heavens;  set  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
throne  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens,"  Hcb. 
vij.  26;  viii.  21,  graciously  look  down  on  this 
people,  now  combating  under  tlie  banners  of 


the  cross!  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  call  to  re- 
membrance the  great  day  of  thy  exaltation, 
without  fixing  our  eyes  upon  thee,  with  those 
blessed  disciples  of  thine  who  were  the  wit- 
nesses of  it,  without  following  thee,  as  they  did 
.with  the  bodily  organ,  and  with  all  the  powers 
of  thought,  and  witiiout  crying  out,  "  Draw  us. 
Lord,  we  will  run  after  thee,"  Cant.  i.  4.  But 
in  giving  way  to  such  desires,  we  misunder- 
stand tiie  nature  of  our  vocation.  We  must 
combat  as  thou  hast  done,  in  order  to  triumph 
WMth  thee.  Well,  be  it  so!  "  Teach  my  hands 
to  war,  and  my  fingers  to  fight,"  Ps.  cxliv.  1. 
Teach  us  to  make  tiiy  cross  a  ladder,  whereon 
to  mount  to  thy  throne.     Amen. 

The  text  which  we  have  announced,  is,  as  it 
were,  a  conclusion  deduced  from  the  chapters 
which  precede  it.  We  cannot  possibly  have  a 
clear  comprehension  of  it,  witiiout  a  general 
recollection  of  the  whole  epistle  from  which  it 
is  taken.  St.  Paul,  in  writing  to  the  Galatians, 
has  this  principally  in  view,  to  revive  the  spirit 
of  Christianity  which  he  himself  had  difiused 
over  the  whole  province  of  Galatia.  Never 
had  preacher  greater  success  than  the  ministry 
of  our  apostle  was  attended  with  in  this  city 
of  the  Lesser  Asia.  He  himself  gives  this  ho- 
nourable testimony  in  favour  of  the  Galatians, 
in  chap.  iv.  ver.  15,  that  "they  had  received 
him  as  an  angel  of  God,"  and,  which  is  saying 
still  more,  "  even  as  Christ  Jesus."  But  the 
Gauls,  of  which  this  people  was  a  colony,  have, 
in  all  ages,  been  reproached  w'ith  the  faculty  of 
easily  taking  impressions,  and  of  losing  them 
with  equal  facility.  The  sentiments  with  which 
St.  Paul  had  inspired  them,  sliared  the  fate  of 
all  violent  sensations;  that  is,  they  were  of  no 
great  duration.  With  this  he  upbraids  them 
in  the  very  beginning  of  the  epistle.  I  marvel, 
says  he  to  them,  chap.  i.  6,  "  I  marvel  that 
ye  are  so  soon  removed  from  him  that  called 
you  into  the  grace  of  Christ,  unto  another 
gospel."  Mark  the  expression,  removed  unto 
another  gospel. 

We  are  not  possessed  of  memoirs  of  the  first 
ages  of  the  church  sufiiciently  ample  to  enable 
us  to  determine,  with  precision,  who  were  the 
authors  of  a  revolution  so  deplorable.  But  if 
we  may  give  credit  to  two  of  the  earliest  his- 
torians, to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  most 
complete  accounts  which  we  have  of  the  first 
fathers  of  heresy,  I  mean  Philostratus  and  St. 
Epipliaiiius,  it  was  Ccrinthus  himself,  in  the 
first  instance,  and  his  disciples  afterward,  who 
marred  the  good  seed  which  St.  Paul  had  sown 
in  the  church  of  Galatia.  One  thing  is  certain, 
namely,  that  re.sjicct  for  the  ceremonial  obser- 
vances which  God  himself  had  prescribed  in  a 
manner  so  solemn,  and  particularly  for  the  law 
of  circumcision,  was  the  reason,  or  rather  the 
pretext,  of  which  the  adversaries  of  our  apos- 
tle availed  themselves  to  destroy  the  fruits  of 
his  ministry,  by  exciting  suspicions  against  the 
soundness  of  his  doctrine.  St.  Paul  goes  to 
the  root  of  the  evil:  he  conveys  just  ideas  of 
these  ceremonial  institutions;  he  demonstrates, 
tiiat,  however  venerable  the  origin  of  them 
might  be,  and  whatever  the  wisdom  displayed 
in  tlieir  establishment,  they  had  never  been  laid 
down  as  the  essential  part  of  religion,  much 
less  still,  as  the  true  means  of  reconciling  men 
to  God.     We  perceive  at  first  sight  this  design 


Ser.  LXXIX.] 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


219 


of  the  apostle  in  the  words  of  my  text,  and 
througli  the  wliolo  epistle  from  which  tliey  are 
taken. 

But  what  is  perhaps  not  so  easily  discovera- 
ble in  it,  but  \vhi(  il  ought  to  be  very  carefully 
observed,  is,  that  as  fcit.  Paul  was  niaintaining 
his  thesis  açainst  opponents  of  diflerent  sorts, 
80  he  likewise  supports  it  on  diflerent  princi- 
ples. Three  descriptions  of  persons  argued  in 
favour  of  the  I.eviiical  observances.  The  first 
did  so  from  a  prejudice  of  birth  and  education. 
The  second,  from  an  excess  of  complaisance. 
The  third  from  a  criminal  policy. 

1.  A  part  of  the  Jews,  who  liad  been  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  could  not  help  preserv- 
ing a  respect  for  the  Levitical  ceremonies,  and 
wished  to  transmit  the  observance  of  them 
into  the  Cliristian  church.  These  were  the 
persons  who  acted  from  a  prejudice  of  birth 
and  education. 

2.  Some  of  them,  more  enlightened,  out  of 
complaisance  to  otiicrs,  would  have  wished  to 
retain  the  practice  of  those  lites.  In  this  class 
we  find  no  less  a  person  than  St.  Peter  himself, 
as  we  learn  from  the  second  chapter  of  this 
epistle,  the  eleventh  and  follow^ing  verses;  and 
what  is  most  to  be  regretted  in  the  case,  this 
apostle  fell  into  such  an  excess  of  compliance, 
that  he  not  only  authorised  by  his  example 
that  respect  which  the  Jews  had  for  the  Levi- 
tical institutions;  but,  being  at  Antioch  when 
certain  Jews  were  sent  thither  by  St.  James, 
he  pretended  to  break  off  all  intercourse  with 
the  Gentile  converts  to  Christianity,  because 
they  had  not  submitted  to  the  ordinance  of 
circumcision;  in  this  he  acted  from  an  excessive 
and  timid  complaisance.  This  weakness  of  St. 
Peter,  to  mention  by  the  way,  has  been  laid 
hold  of  by  one  of  the  most  declared  enemies  of 
Christianity,  I  mean  the  philosopher  Porphyry. 
The  reproaches  which  he  vents  against  the 
Christians,  on  this  ground,  appeared  so  galling 
to  them,  that  they  had  recourse  to  a  pious 
fraud  to  defend  themselves.  They  alleged, 
nay,  they  perhaps  seriously  believed,  that  the 
person  thus  branded  with  timidity  was  not 
Peter  the  apostle,  but  one  Cephas,  who,  as  they 
are  pleased  to  give  out,  was  of  the  number  of 
the  seventy  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ,  mentioned 
in  the  gospel.  A  most  chimerical  supposition! 
which  has  been  latterly  adopted  by  a  celebrated 
Jesuit,*  and  which  has  swelled  the  catalogue 
of  his  extravagances. 

3.  But  if  some  from  prejudice  wished  to 
transmit  the  Levitical  ceremonies  into  Christi- 
anity, and  others  from  an  excess  of  complai- 
sance, there  was  still  a  third  description  of  per- 
sons who  did  so,  out  of  a  criminal  polic}'. 
Such  were  the  pagan  converts.  Respecting 
which  it  is  necessary  to  remark,  that  the  Jewish 
religion  was  tolerated  by  the  Roman  laws; 
whereas  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  was  pro- 
scribed by  them,  and  Christians  were  thereby 
exposed  to  the  most  violent  persecution.  This 
it  was  which  induced  the  pagan  converts  to 
conform  to  the  Levitical  ceremonies,  tliat  they 
might  pass  for  Jews  under  this  veil  of  Judaism. 
A  passage  of  St.  Jerome  to  this  purpose  de- 
serves to  be  here  inserted.     "  Caius  Cesar," 


*  Father  Hardouin,  in  his  Dissertation  on  Oallatiaos 
ii.10. 


says  he,*  " AcorsTis  and  Tiberius  enacted 
laws,  by  which  the  Jews  dispersed  over  the 
Roman  empire  were  authorised  to  practise  the 
rites  of  their  religion,  and  the  ceremonial  insti- 
tutions transmitted  to  them  from  tlieir  fathers. 
All  those  who  were  circumcised,  though  they 
had  embraced  Ciiristianity,were  considered  all 
over  tiie  pagan  world  as  Jews;  but  all  those 
who  remained  in  a  state  of  uncircumcision, 
while  they  professedly  received  the  gospel, 
were  equally  persecuted  by  Jews  and  pagans. 
There  were  teachers  among  them,  therefore, 
who,  in  order  to  screen  themselves  from  these 
persecutions,  submitted  to  be  circumcised,  and 
recommended  circumcision  to  their  disciples." 
These  are  the  words  of  St.  Jerome,  and  they 
throw  much  light  on  what  our  apostle  says  in 
the  twelfth  verse  of  the  chapter  from  which  I 
have  taken  my  text.  "As  many  as  desire  to 
make  a  fair  siiow  in  the  flesh,  they  constrain 
you  to  be  circumcised;  only  lest  they  should 
suffer  persecution  for  t!ie  cross  of  Christ."  And 
as  a  relaxed  morality  has  always  the  most  nu- 
merous supporters,  we  see  that  in  the  church 
of  Galatia,  the  teachers  who  made  the  greatest 
use  of  this  artifice,  not  only  attracted  the  great- 
est number  of  disciples,  but  likewise  made  that 
superiority  a  source  of  vain-glorious  boasting. 
Tbiis  is  the  sense  of  the  words  which  immedi- 
ately precede  our  text:  "  For  neither  they 
themselves  who  are  circumcised  keep  the  law; 
but  desire  to  have  you  circumcised,  that  they 
might  glory  in  your  flesh." 

These  were  tlie  three  descriptions  of  oppo- 
nents against  whom  Paul  had  to  maintain  the 
inutility  of  the  observance  of  the  Levitical  cere- 
monial, and  to  assert  the  exclusive  doctrine  of 
the  cross. 

One  of  the  principal  causes  of  the  obscurity 
of  St.  Paul's  Epistle  is  this,  that  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  distinguish  the  genei-al  arguments 
which  that  apostle  advances  in  them,  from 
certain  reasonings  of  a  different  kind,  which 
are  conclusive  only  against  some  particular 
adversaries.  Is  it  not  evident,  for  example, 
that  all  the  consequences  which  he  deduces 
from  the  history  of  Hagar,  whom  he  makes  the 
emblem  of  the  ancient  dispensation;  and  from 
that  of  Sarah,  whom  he  makes  the  emblem  of 
the  evangelical,  could  make  an  impression  only 
on  the  minds  of  Jews,  who  were  accustomed 
to  allegory,  and  who  particularly  discovered  it 
in  the  different  condition  of  that  wife,  and  of 
that  handmaid  of  Abraham;  as  appears  in  many 
passages  of  Philo,  which  it  would  be  improper 
at  present  to  introduce? 

Now,  my  brethren,  it  is  impossible  to  have  a 
clear  conception  of  the  Epistles  of  our  apostle, 
without  carefully  distinguishing  those  different 
adversaries  whom  ho  had  to  combat,  and  the 
different  arguments  which  he  employs  to  con- 
fute them.  Nay,  tiiis  distinction  is  the  very 
key  which  explains  to  us  the  diilerent  conduct 
observed  by  the  apostles  toward  their  prose- 
Ivtes.  For  they  believed  themselves  obliged, 
with  respect  to  those  who  had  come  over  from 
Judaism,  to  tolerate  that  Levitical  ceremonial 
to  wliich  they  were  attached  by  the  prejudices 
of  birth;  whereas  this  connivance  might  have 
proved  dangerous  to  others  who  conformed  to 


Hierou.  torn.  9.  in  Calat«  Ti.  13. 


220 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


[Ser.  LXXIX. 


the  practice  of  it  merely  from  tlie  dastardly 
motive  which  induced  them  to  disjruise  their 
religion,  or  to  screen  themselves  from  the  j)er- 
secution  to  wliich  it  exposed  tlieui  who  gloried 
in  making  profession  of  it. 

But  wiiatever  difference  there  may  be  in  the 
character  of  the  opponents  whom  the  apostle 
was  combating,  and  in  tiic  arguments  which 
he  employed  to  confute  tliem,  he  presses  on  all 
of  them  this  principle,  on  whicl»  the  whole  fa- 
bric of  Christianity  rests.  The  sacrifice  which 
Jesus  Christ  offered  uj),  that  of  his  own  life,  is 
the  only  one  capable  of  satisfying  the  demands 
of  divine  justice,  awakened  to  the  punishment 
of  human  guilt;  and  to  divide  the  glory  of  the 
Redeemer's  sacfiftce  with  the  Lev'Uical  ceremonial, 
was,  as  he  e.x])resses  it,  to  preach  another  gosyel; 
was  to  fall  from  p-ace;  was  to  lose  the  fruit  of 
all  the  sufferings  endured  in  the  cause  of 
Christianity;  was  a  doctrine  worthy  of  being 
rejected  with  execration,  were  it  to  be  preached 
even  by  "  an  angel  from  heaven."  Our  apostle 
goes  still  farther;  he  solemnly  protests  that  no 
worldly  consideration  sliould  ever  have  power 
to  make  him  renounce  tliis  leading  truth  of  the 
gospel;  that  the  more  it  exposed  him  to  hatred 
and  suffering,  the  more  he  would  rejoice  in  the 
knowledge  of  it,  and  in  making  it  known  to 
others;  in  a  word,  he  declares  lie  will  continue 
to  preach  the  cross,  were  the  consequences  to 
be,  that  he  himself  should  be  nailed  to  it:  "  God 
forbid  that  I  sliould  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  the  world  is 
crucified  unto  me,  and  I  unto  the  world." 
This  is  the  general  scope  of  the  epistle  to  the 
Galatians,  particularly  of  our  text,  which  is 
the  conclusion  of  it. 

But  it  is  of  importance  to  descend  into  a 
more  particular  detail.  And,  in  order  to  throw 
more  light  on  my  subject,  I  propose,  as  far  as 
the  limits  prescribed  me  permit,  to  attempt  the 
three  following  things: 

I.  I  shall  examine  wherein  those  sentiments 
of  the  Christian  consist,  which  enable  him  to 
say  that  "  the  world  is  crucified  unto  him,  and 
he  unto  the  world." 

II.  I  shall  show  tliat  in  such  sentiments  as 
these  true  glory  consists. 

III.  I  shall  demonstrate  that  it  is  the  cross 
of  Christ,  and  the  cross  of  Christ  alone,'  which 
can  inspire  us  with  these  sentiments;  from 
which  I  shall  deduce  tiiis  farther  consequence, 
that  in  the  cross  of  Christ  alone  we  can  find  a 
just  ground  of  glorying.  Vouchsafe  us  a  few 
moments  more  of  your  attention  to  the  elucida- 
tion of  these  interesting  trutlis. 

I.  What  is  the  disj)osition  of  mind  denoted  by 
these  expressions,  "  the  world  is  crucified  unto 
me;  I  am  crucified  unto  tiie  world?"  In  order 
to  liave  just  ideas  of  tiiis  reciiirocal  crucifixion, 
we  must  comprehend,  1.  Tlie  nature  of  it. 
2.  The  degrees.     3.  The  bitterness. 

1.  The  nature  of  it.  "  Tiie  world  is  crucified 
unto  me;  I  am  crucified  unto  the  world:"  this 
is  a  figurative  mode  of  expressiuii,  iini)orliiig  a 
total  rupture  willi  the  world.  Uistingiiish 
two  different  senses  in  wliich  tlie  term  world 
may  be  taken:  tlie  world  of  nature,  and  the 
world  of  cupidity.  J5y  the  world  of  nature 
we  understand  that  vast  assemblage  of  beings 
which  the  almighty  arm  of  Jehovah  has  formed, 
but  these  considered  as  they  are  in  themselves. 


By  the  world  of  cupidity  we  understand  those 
self-same  beings,  considered  so  far  as  by  our 
abuse  of  them,  tliey  seduce  us  from  the  obedi- 
ence which  we  owe  to  the  Creator.     Of  the 
natural  world  it  is  said,  Gen.  i.  31,  "  God  saw 
every  thing  that  he  had  made,  and  behold  it 
was  very  good  "     And  St.  Paul  says,  1  Tim. 
iv.  4,  that  "  every  creature  of  God  is  good  .  .  . 
if   it   be   received   with   thanksgiving."   The 
Ciiristian  does  not  break  with  the  world   in 
tills  first  sense  of  the  word.     On  the  contrary, 
he  makes  it  the  object  of  his  frequent  medita- 
tion; he  discovers  in  it  the  perfections  of  th« 
great  Being  who  created  it:  "The  heavens  de- 
clare the  glory  of  God;   and  the  firmament 
showeth  his  handy  work,"  Ps.  xix.    1.     Nay 
more,  he  makes  it  the  object  of  his  hope:  For 
the  promise,  I  quote  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  in 
chap.  iv.   13,  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans, 
"  For  the  promise  that  he  should  be  the  heir 
of  the  world  was  made  to  Abraham:  and  all 
things  are  yours;  whether  Paul  or  Apollos,  or 
Cephas,  or  the  world,"  1  Cor.  iii.  22. 
.     It  is  the  world  of  cupidity,  therefore,  that 
our  apostle  speaks  in  the  words  which  I  am  at- 
tempting to  explain,  that  world  of  which  it  is 
said,  "  The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust 
thereof.   Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things 
that  are  in  the  world,"  1  John  ii.  15.  IT.  "  The 
friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with,"  or  as 
it  might  have   been  rendered,   "  is  hatred  to 
God."    This  is  the  world  which  "  is  crucified" 
to  the  Christian;  the  Christian  "  is  crucified" 
to  this  world.    The  apostle,  in  expressing  him- 
self thus  strongly,  refines  upon  a  form  of  speech 
which  frequently  occurs  in  Scripture,  that  of 
"  dying  to  an  object."     To  die  to  an  object,  is, 
in  the  style  of  the  sacred  authors,  to  have  no 
farther  intercouree  with  that  object.     In  this 
sense  our  apostle  says,  in  chap.  ii.  of  this  Epis- 
tle, ver.  19,  "I  tlirough  the  law  am  dead  to 
the  law;"  in  other  words,  the  genius  of  severity 
which  predominates  in  the  Mosaic  economy, 
lays   me   under  the  necessity  of  entirely   re- 
nouncing it,  "  that  I  might  live  unto  God;"  the 
meaning  of  wliich  evidently  is  this,  that  I  may 
have   undivided    recourse    to    a   dispensation 
which  presents  the  Deity  as  more  accessible  to 
me.     In  like  manner,  "  to  die  to  the  world  of 
cupidity,"  or  what  amounts  to  the  same  thing, 
"  to  die  unto  sin,"  is  to  renounce  sin;  "  how 
shall  we  who  are  dead  to  sin  live  any  longer 
therein.''  likewise  reckon  ye  also  yourselves  to 
be  dead  indeed  unto  sin:  but  alive  unto  (îod, 
tlirough  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,"  Rom.  vi.  2. 
11.     1  am  still  quoting  the  words  of  St.  Paul. 
But  as  if  a  violent  deatii  were  more  really 
dying  than  deatli  in  a  milder  form,  Scripture, 
in  order  to  mark  more  decidedly  the  sincerity 
of  the  rcnuniiation  of  the  world,  which  is  as- 
cribed to  the  Christian,  is  not  satisfied  with  re- 
presenting him  as  demi,  but  holds  him  uji  as 
crucified  to  the  world  of  cupidity:  "  Knowing 
this,  that  our  old  man  is  crucified  with  him," 
Uoni.  vi.  G.     "  They  who  are  in  Christ  have 
crucified  the  flesh,  with  its  lusLs;"  and  in  the 
text,  "  the  world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I 
am  crucified  unto  the  world:"  that  is,  illicit  cu- 
I  pidity  exists  no  longer  with  respect  to  me,  and 
1  subsist  no  longer  with  respect  to  it. 

2.  There  is,  however,  a  certain  degree   of 
I  ambiguity  in  these  ideas  of  "  deadness  to  the 


ser.  lxxix.]       the  true  glory  of  the  christian. 


221 


world,"  of  "  crucifixion  to  the  world,"  of  "  a 
total  rupture  witli  liie  world."  For  this  reason 
it  is  that  wo  said,  that  in  order  to  have  just 
ideas  of  this  disiiosilion  of  mind,  it  is  not  suf- 
ficient to  comprehend  the  nature  of  it,  but  lliat 
we  sliould  also  understand  the  gradations  of 
which  it  admits,  if,  in  order  worthily  to  sus- 
tain the  Cliristian  character,  an  absolute  renun- 
ciation of  the  world,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the 
words,  were  indisimlahly  necessary,  where  is 
the  person,  alas!  who  durst  pretend  to  assume 
that  name?  Would  it  be  a  Noah?  would  it  be 
an  Abraham?  would  it  be  a  Moses?  would  it  be 
a  David?  would  it  be  a  Peter?  would  it  be  a 
Paul?  would  it  bo  one  of  you.  Christians  of  our 
own  days,  who  seem  to  have  carried  piety  to 
its  higliest  degree  of  fervour,  and  "  who  siiine 
as  liglits  in  tlie  world,  in  the  midst  of  a  crook- 
ed and  perverse  nation?"  Piiil.  ii.  15. 

Where,  then,  are  those  saints  to  be  found,  in 
whom  an  ill-smothered  cupidity  emits  no  sparks? 
That  female  is  an  example  of  wliat  is  called 
virtue,  by  way  of  eminence,  in  her  sex;  and 
which,  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  age  in 
which  wo  live,  seems  to  constitute  the  whole 
of  virtue,  as  far  as  she  is  concerned;  but,  ini- 
pregnable  to  all  the  assaults  which  can  be  made 
upon  her  chastity,  she  succumbs  under  the 
slightest  temptation  that  attacks  her  on  tlie  side 
of  avarice;  and  she  loses  all  self-government, 
the  moment  you  recommend  to  lier,  to  take  care 
that  her  charities  be  in  something  like  propor- 
tion to  her  opulence. 

That  man  is  a  pattern  of  reflective  retire- 
ment, and  modest  silence:  but,  unshaken  by  the 
rudest  attacks  made  upon  his  spirit  of  reserve, 
he  yields  to  the  sliglitest  solicitations  of  pride, 
he  decks  himself  out  with  the  names  and  titles 
of  his  ancestors,  he  admires  himself  in  the 
poorest  effusions  of  his  brain.  How  easy  would 
it  be  to  multiply  examples  of  this  sort! 

But  if  it  be  impossible  to  say,  taking  the  ex- 
pression in  the  strictness  of  interpretation,  that 
the  Christian  has  broken  off"  all  commerce  with 
the  world,  that  he  is  "  dead  to  the  world," 
that  "  the  world  is  crucified  unto  him,"  and 
that  "  he  is  crucified  unto  the  world;"  he  pos- 
sesses this  disposition  of  mind,  nevertheless,  in 
various  respects,  and  to  a  certain  degree.  "  He 
is  crucified  unto  the  world;"  he  is  so  in  respect 
of  intention,  ho  has  that  sincere  will  "  to  pull 
down  every  strong  hold,  every  thing  that  ex- 
alteth  itself  against  tlie  knowledge  of  God;"  it 
is  an  expression  of  St.  Paul's,  i  Cor.  x.  4,  5. 
Hence  such  protestations  as  these,  "  O  Lord! 
thou  hast  searched  me,  and  known  me,"  Ps. 
cxxxix.  1.  "Lord!  thou  knowest  that  1  love 
thee,"  John  xxi.  17.  Hence  the  bitterness  of 
regret  on  account  of  remaining  imperfection, 
"  O  wretched  man  that  I  am!  who  shalUieliver 
nie  from  the  body  of  this  deatli?"  Rom.  vii.  24. 
Hence  those  prayers  for  the  communication  of 
fresh  supplies  of  heavenly  aid;  "Open  thou 
mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things 
out  of  thy  law,"  Ps.  c.xix.  18.  "  Teach  me  to 
do  thy  will,  for  thou  art  my  God:  thy  Spirit  is 
good;  lead  me  into  the  land  of  uprightness," 
Ps.  cxliii.  10. 

"  He  is  crucified  unto  the  world."  He  is 
so  in  respect  of  exertion  and  actual  progress. 
Hence  those  unremitting  conflicts  with  tlio  re- 
ioaios  of  indwelling  corruption;  "  I  keep  under 


my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection,"  1  Cor. 
ix.  27.  Hence  those  advances  in  the  Christian 
course;  "  not  ;is  though  1  had  already  attained, 
either  were  already  perfect,  but  I  follow  after 
.  .  .  .  This  one  tiling  I  do,  forgetting  those 
things  wiiicii  are  belli iid,  and  reaching  forth 
unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press  to- 
ward tiie  mark,  for  the  prize  of  tiie  liigh  call- 
ins  of  God  in  (!hrist  Jesus,"  Pliil.  iii.  12 — 14. 
"  He  is  crucified  unto  tiie  world."  He  is  so 
in  respect  of  hope  and  fervour.  Hence  those 
sighings  after  the  dissolution  of  the  body,  which 
forms,  as  it  were,  a  wall  of  separation  between 
God  and  us.  Hence  those  ardent  breathings 
after  a  dispensation,  and  economy  of  things  in 
which  we  shall  be  able  to  give  an  unrestrained 
effusion  to  tiie  love  of  order,  and  be  completely 
united  to  Jesus  Christ.  "  For  we  that  are  in 
this  tabernacle  do  groan,  being  burdened;  nor 
for  that  we  would  be  unclothed,  but  clothed 
upon,  that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of 
life,  ....  knowing  that  whilst  we  are  at 
home  in  the  body,  we  are  absent  from  the 
Lord;  ....  and  willing  rather  to  be  absent 
from  the  body,  and  to  be  present  with  the 
Lord,"  2  Cor.  v.  4.  6.  8. 

3.  But  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  representing  to  us 
our  renunciation  of  tiie  world,  under  the  idea 
of  a  death,  of  a  crucifixion,  intended  to  mark 
not  only  the  nature  and  the  degrees  of  the  dis- 
position of  mind  which  these  expressions  de- 
note, but  likewise  to  indicate  tiie  difficulty,  the 
bitterness,  of  making  such  a  sacrifice. 

In  very  rare  instances  do  men  die  without 
suifering.  Death,  in  the  gentlest  form,  is  usu- 
ally preceded  by  violent  symptoms,  which  some 
have  denominated  the  harbingers  of  death. — 
These  harbingers  of  death  are  mortal  swoon- 
ings,  feverish  heats,  paroxysms  of  pain,  tortures 
insupportable.  Crucifixion,  especially,  was  the 
most  cruel  punishment  which  human  justice, 
shall  I  call  it?  or  human  barbarity  ever  invent- 
ed. Tlie  imagination  recoils  from  the  repre- 
sentation of  a  man  nailed  to  a  tree,  suspended 
by  the  iron  which  pierces  his  hands  and  his 
feet,  pressed  downward  with  the  weight  of  his 
own  body,  the  blood  of  which  is  drained  oflf 
drop  by  drop,  till  he  expires  merely  from  excess 
of  anguish. 

Is  this  frightful  image  overstrained,  when 
employed  to  represent  the  pains  which  the 
Christian  is  called  to  endure,  the  conflicts 
which  he  has  to  maintain,  the  sacrifices  which 
he  is  bound  to  make;  agonies  which  he  is  under 
an  indispensable  necessity  to  undergo,  before  he 
possibly  can  attain  that  blessed  state  which  our 
apostle  had,  through  grace,  arrived  at,  when 
he  said,  in  the  words  of  my  text,  "  the  world 
is  crucified  unto  me,  and  1  am  crucified  unto 
the  world?" 

Represent  to  yourselves  a  Christian,  repre- 
sent to  yourselves  a  man  as  yet  a  novice  in  the 
school  of  Jesus  Christ,  called  to  combat,  some- 
times the  propensities  which  he  brought  with 
him  into  the  world;  sometimes  to  eradicate  a  ha- 
bit which  has  grown  up  in  him,  till  it  is  become 
a  second  nature:  sometimes  to  stem  the  torrent 
of  custom  and  example;  sometimes  to  mortify 
and  subdue  a  headstrong  passion,  which  en- 
grosses him,  transports  him,  drags  him  away 
captive;  sometimes  to  bid  an  everlasting  fare- 
well to  the  place  of  his  birth,  to  his  kindred. 


222 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN.  [Ser.  LXXIX. 


and,  like  Abraham,  "  to  go  out,  not  knowing 
whither  he  went;"  sometimes,  with  that  same 

fiatriarch,  to  immolate  an  only  son;  to  tear 
liniself,  on  a  dying  bed,  from  friends,  from  a 
Bi)0use,  from  a  cliiid,  whom  he  loves  as  liis  own 
soul;  and  all  this  without  murmuring  or  com- 
plaining: and  all  this,  because  it  is  the  will  of 
God;  and  all  this,  witli  that  submission  which 
was  expressed  by  Jesus  Christ,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  the  Christian's  faith,  his  Redeemer 
and  his  pattern:  "  Not  what  I  will,  but  what 
thou  wilt,"  Matt.  x.wi.  39. 

O  cross  of  my  Saviour,  how  heavily  dost 
thou  press,  when  laid  upon  a  man  who  has  not 
yet  carried  love  to  thfee  to  that  height  which 
renders  all  things  easy  to  him  who  loves!  O 
path  of  virtue,  which  appearest  so  smooth  to 
them  who  walk  in  thee,  how  rugged  is  the  road 
which  leads  unto  thee!  O  yoke  of  Jesus  Christ, 
60  easy!  burden  so  light  to  him  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  bear  thee;  how  difficult,  how 
oppressive  to  those  who  are  but  beginning  to 
try  their  strength!  You  see  it,  accordingly,  my 
brethren!  you  see  it  on  the  page  of  inspiration, 
to  renounce  the  ivorld  of  cupidity,  is  to  present 
the  body  in  sacrifice;  "  1  beseech  you,  brethren, 
by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your 
bodies  a  living  sacrifice,"  Rom.  xii.  1;  it  is  to 
"  cut  off"  a  right  hand,"  it  is  to  "  pluck  out  a 
right  eye,"  Matt.  v.  29,  30;  it  is  for  a  man  to 
"deny  himself,"  it  is  to  "take  up  the  cross:" 
for  "if  any  one  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow 
me,"  Matt.  xvi.  24;  it  is,  in  a  word,  to  be  "  cru- 
cified with  Jesus  Christ;"  for  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ,"  Gal.  ii.  20;  and,  in  the  words  of 
the  text,  "  The  world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and 
I  am  crucified  unto  the  world."  My  God,  how 
much  it  costs  to  be  a  Christian! 


SERMON  LXXIX. 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRIS- 
TIAN. 

PART  II. 


Galatians  vi.  14. , 
But  God  forbid  that  I  should  gloitj,  save  in  the 

cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Chnst,  bij  lo/jom  the 

world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I  unto  the 

world. 

Having  presented  you  with  a  general  view 
of  the  apostle's  reasoning  in  this  epistle;  hav- 
ing considered  it  as  an  answer  to  three  dif- 
ferent classes  of  opponents,  wliom  St.  Paul 
had  to  combat;  namely,  those  who  maintained 
the  observance  of  the  Levitical  institutions,  to 
the  disparagement  of  the  gospel,  1.  From  tlie 
prejudice  of  birth  and  education:  2.  From  an 
excess  of  complaisance:  3.  From  criminal  po- 
licy: we  proceeded  to  show,  that  whatever  dif- 
ference of  motive  and  opinion  might  prevail 
among  these  three  descriptions  of  adversaries 
whom  our  apostle  had  to  encounter,  and  how- 
ever ditferent  the  strain  of  reasoning  which  ho 
employs,  according  as  the  character  of  each 
demanded,  ho  supjwrts,  in  opjiosition  to  thorn 
all,  this  principle,  on  which  tlie  whole  of  C'hris- 
tianity  rests,  nooioly,  that  the  sacrifice  which 


the  Redeemer  offered  up  of  his  own  life,  is 
alone  capable  of  satisfying  divine  justice,  and 
of  reconciling  guilty  man  to  God. 

We  tlicn  entered  into  a  more  particular  de- 
tail on  tlie  subject,  by  proposing, 

I.  To  examine  wherein  that  disposition  of 
the  Christian  consists,  by  which  he  is  enabled, 
with  St.  Paul,  to  say,  "  the  world  is  crucified 
unto  me,  and  I  am  crucified  unto  the  world," 

II.  To  show,  that  in  such  dispositions  as 
these,  true  glory  consists. 

III.  To  demonstrate  that  it  is  the  cross  of 
Christ,  and  the  cross  of  Christ  only,  which  can 
inspire  us  with  these  sentiments;  as  a  founda- 
tion for  this  farther  conclusion,  that  in  the 
cross  of  Ciirist  alone  we  can  find  a  just  ground 
of  glorying. 

The  first  of  these  three  proposals  we  have 
endeavoured  to  execute,  by  considering,  1. 
The  nature  of  this  reciprocal  crucifixion:  2. 
Tiie  gradations  of  wliich  it  admits:  3.  The  àif- 
ficulty,  tiie  bitterness,  of  making  a  sacrifice  so 
very  painful.  We  now  proceed  to  what  was 
next  proposed,  namely, 

II.  To  show,  that  in  such  dispositions  as 
are  expressed  by  our  apostle,  true  glory  con- 
sists. 

In  order  to  elucidate  and  confirm  this  posi- 
tion, I  mean  to  institute  a  comparison  between 
the  hero  of  this  world,  and  the  Christian  hero, 
in  the  view  of  making  it  evidently  apparent, 
that  this  last  has  infinitely  the  superiority  over 
the  other.  From  what  sources  does  the  hero 
of  this  world  pretend  to  derive  his  glory.' 

The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory,  from  the  greatness  of  the  master  to 
whom  his  services  are  devoted.  He  congra- 
tulates himself  on  contributing  to  the  glory  of 
those  men  who  are  so  highly  exalted  above  the 
rest  of  mankind,  on  being  the  support  of  their 
throne,  and  the  guardian  of  their  crown.  The 
Master,  to  whose  service  the  Christian  has 
devoted  himself,  is  the  King  of  kings:  he  it  is, 
in  whose  presence  all  the  potentates  of  the 
earth  "  are  as  a  drop  of  a  bucket,  and  are 
counted  as  the  small  dust  of  tlie  balance,"  Isa. 
xl.  16.  He  it  is,  by  whose  sujjreme  authority 
"  kings  reign,  and  princes  decree  justice," 
Prov.  viii.  15.  It  is  true  that  the  greatness  of 
this  adorable  Being  raises  him  far  above  all  our 
services.  It  is  true  that  his  throne  is  establish- 
ed for  ever,  and  that  the  united  force  of  all 
created  things  would  in  vain  attempt  to  shake 
it.  But  if  the  Christian  can  contrilnite  no- 
thing to  tho  glory  of  so  great  a  master,  he 
publishes  it  abroad,  ho  confounds  tliose  who 
presume  to  invade  it,  he  makes  it  to  be  known 
over  the  whole  earth.  ' 

The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory  from  the  hatred  with  which  he  is  ani- 
mated, against  the  enemy  with  whom  he  is 
making  war.  What  enemy  more  hateful  can 
a  man  etigage,  than  the  world.'  It  is  the  world 
which  degrades  us  from  our  natural  greatness; 
which  ell'accs  from  tlic  soul  of  man,  those  traits 
which  tho  finger  of  Deity  himself  has  impress- 
ed upon  it;  which  destroys  our  pretensions  to 
a  blessed  immortality. 

The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory  from  tho  dignity  of  the  persons  who 
havo  preceded  him  in  the  same  honourable 
career.     It  is  considered  in  the  world,  as  glo- 


Ser.  LXXIX.] 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


223 


rious,  to  succeed  thoso  illustrious  men  who 
have  filled  the  universe  with  the  sound  of  their 
name,  who  have  made  terror  to  stalk  before 
them,  and  who  sijrnalized  themselves  by  ex- 
ploits more  than  human.  The  Christian  has 
been  preceded  in  his  career  by  patriarchs,  by 
prophets,  by  apostles,  by  martyrs,  by  those 
multitudes  of  the  redeemed,  out  of  every  kin- 
dred, and  tonirue,  and  people,  and  nation,  Rev. 
V.  9.  Those  holy  men  have  been  called  to 
wage  war  with  sin,  as  we  are  to  subdue  our 
passions;  to  foruï  in  their  inner  man,  as  we 
are,  piety,  charity,  patience,  tlio  habit  and  the 
practice  of  every  virtue.  The  Ciiristian  has 
been  preceded  in  his  career,  by  Jesus  Christ 
himself,  the  author  and  the  finisher  of  the 
faith.  "  Wherefore,  seeing  we  also  are  com- 
.  passed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses, 
Jet  us  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which 
doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and  let  us  run  with  pa- 
tience the  race  wiiich  is  set  before  us,  looking 
unto  Jesus  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith; 
who,  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  en- 
dured the  cross,  despising  the  shame,"  Heb. 
xii.  1,  2. 

The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory  from  the  brilliancy  of  his  achieve- 
ments. But  who  has  greater  exploits  to  glory 
in  than  the  Christian  can  display?  To  shake 
off  the  yoke  of  prejudice,  to  despise  the  maxims 
of  men,  to  resist  flesh  and  blood,  to  subdue 
passion,  to  brave  death,  to  sufler  martyrdom, 
to  remain  unmoved  amidst  the  convulsions  of 
dissolving  nature,  and,  in  the  very  wreck  of  a 
labouring  universe,  to  be  able  to  apply  those 
exceeding  great  and  precious  promises,  which 
God  has  spoken  by  the  mouth  of  the  proplict, 
Isa.  liv.  10.  "  The  mountains  shall  depart, 
and  the  hills  be  removed:  but  my  kindness 
shall  not  depart  from  thee,  neither  shall  tl'.e 
covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the 
Lord  that  hath  mercy  on  thee."  These,  these 
are  the  achievements  of  the  Christian. 

The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory  from  the  benefits  which  lie  has  pro- 
cured for  others,  from  the  blessings  with  which 
he  has  enriched  his  country,  from  the  slaves 
whose  chains  he  has  burst  asunder,  from  the 
monsters  of  which  he  has  purged  the  earth. 
Who  is,  in  such  respects  as  these,  a  greater 
benefactor  to  society  than  the  Christian?  lie 
is  at  once,  its  bulwark,  its  light  and  its  model. 
The  hero  of  this  world  sometimes  derives 
his  glory  from  the  acclamations  which  his  ex- 
ploits excite,  and  from  the  magnificence  of  the 
recompense  with  which  his  merits  are  to  be 
crowned.  But  whence  proceed  the  acclama- 
tions which  inflate  his  pride?  Does  it  belong 
to  venal  souls,  to  courtiers,  to  hireling  panegy- 
rists; does  it  belong  to  ])ersons  of  this  descrip- 
tion to  distribute  commendation  and  applause? 
Have  they  any  thing  like  tiie  idea  of  true  glory? 
Extend,  Christian,  extend  thy  meditations  up 
to  the  greatness  of  the  Supreme  Being!  Think 
of  that  adorable  intelligence,  who  unites  in  his 
essence  all  that  deserves  the  name  of  great! 
Contemplate  the  Divinity  surrounded  with 
angels,  with  archangels,  with  tiie  seraphim! 
Listen  to  the  concerts  which  those  blessed 
spirits  compose  to  the  glory  of  his  name!  Be- 
hold them  penetrated,  ravished,  transported 
with  tlie  divine  beauties  which  are  disclosed 


to  their  view;  employing  eternity  in  celebrat- 
ing their  excellency,  and  crying  aloud  day  and 
night:  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts! 
The  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory,"  Isa.  vi. 
3.  "  Amen:  Blessing,  and  glory,  and  wisdom, 
and  thanksgiving,  and  honour,  and  power,  and 
might,  be  unto  our  God,  for  ever  and  ever! 
/\mcn,"  Rev.  vii.  12.  "  Great  and  marvellous 
are  thy  works.  Lord  God  Almighty!  just  and 
true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints!  Who 
shall  not  fear  thee,  O  Lord,  and  glorify  thy 
name?  for  thou  only  art  holy,"  Rev.  xv.  3,  4. 

This  Being,  so  worthy  to  be  praised,  and 
praised  in  a  manner  so  worthy  of  him,  he  it  is 
who  has  been  preparing  acclamations  for  the 
conquerors  of  the  world.  Yes,  Christian  com- 
batant! after  thou  hast  been  treated  "  as  the 
filth  of  the  world,  and  the^  offscouring  of  all 
tilings,"  1  Cor.  iv.  13,  after  thou  shalt  have 
mortified,  subjected,  crucified  this  flesh;  after 
thou  shalt  have  borne  this  cross,  which  was 
once  "  to  the  Jews,  a  stumbling  block;  and  to 
the  Greeks  foolfshness;"  and  which  is  still  to 
this  day,  foolishness  and  a  stumbling  block  to 
those  who  ought  to  consider  it  as  their  highest 
glory  to  bear  it;  thou  shalt  be  called  fortii  in 
the  presence  of  men  and  of  angels;  the  eye  of 
the  great  God  shall  distinguish  thee  amidst  the 
innumerable  company  of  the  saints;  he  shall 
address  tiiee  in  these  words:  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant,"  Matt.  xxv.  21.  He  will 
fulfil  the  promise  which  he  this  day  is  making 
to  all  who  combat  under  the  banner  of  the 
cross:  "  to  him  that  overcometh,  will  I  grant 
to  sit  with  me  in  my  throne,"  Rev.  iii.  21. 

Ah!  glory  of  the  hero  of  this  world,  profane 
panegyrics,  inscriptions  conceived  in  high 
svvelling  words  of  vanity,  superb  trophies,  dia- 
dems, fitter  to  serve  as  an  amusement  to  chil- 
dren, than  to  engage  the  attention  of  reasonable 
men!  what  have  ye  once  to  be  compared  with 
the  acclamations,  and  with  the  crowns  prepar- 
ed for  the  Christian  hero?  I  sacrifice,  my 
brethren,  to  the  standard  prescribed  to  the 
duration  of  these  exercises,  the  delicious  me- 
ditations which  this  branch  of  my  subject  so 
copiously  supplies,  and  all  I  farther  request  of 
you  is  a  moment's  attention,  while  I  endeavour 
to  make  you  sensible,  that  it  is  in  the  cross  of 
Jesus  Christ  alone,  we  find  every  thing  neces- 
sary to  inspire  these  noble  dispositions;  in  order 
to  deduce  this  consequence,  that  in  the  cross 
of  Jesus  Christ  alone,  the  Christian  must  look 
for  true  glory;  and  in  order  to  justify  this  sen- 
timent of  our  apostle:  "  God  forbid  that  I 
should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  C^irist,  by  whom  the  world  is  crucified 
unto  me,  and  I  unto  the  world!"  Under  what 
aspect  can  you  contemplate  the  cross  of  Christ, 
that  does  not  dispose  you  to  break  oti"  entirely 
with  the  world? 

III.  If  we  consider  that  cross  in  respect  of 
its  harmony  with  the  whole  contradiction  which 
Jesus  Christ  endured  upon  earth,  it  has  a  pow- 
erful tendency  to  awaken  in  us  the  dispositions 
which  St.  Paul  expresses,  so  as  to  say  with 
him,  "  the  world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I 
am  crucified  unto  the  world."  Our  great  Mas- 
ter finishes  upon  a  cross,  a  life  passed  in  con- 
tempt, in  indigence,  in  mortification  of  the 
senses,  in  hunger,  in  thirst,  in  weariness,  in 
separation  from  the  world;  would  it  be  becom- 


$24 


THE  TRUE  GLORY  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


[Ser.  LXXIX. 


ing  in  a  Christian  to  lull  himself  to  sleep  in 
the  anus  of  indolence,  to  addict  himself  to  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  to  suffer  himself  to  be  en- 
chanted by  the  charms  of  voluptuousness,  to 
breatlic  after  nothing  but  ease,  but  convenience, 
but  repose,  but  abundance-  "  If  the  world 
hate  you,  ye  know  that  it  hated  mc  before  it 
liatcd  you.  Remember  the  word  that  I  said 
unto  you,  the  servant  is  not  greater  than  his 
Lord,"  Jonn  xv.  18.  20. 

If  we  consider  the  cross  of  Christ,  in  rela- 
tion to  the  sacrifice  which  is  there  offered  up  to 
divine  justice,  it  has  a  powerful  tendency  to 
produce  in  us  the  dispositions  expressed  by  St. 
Paul,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say  with  him,  "  The 
world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I  am  crucified 
unto  the  world."  That  worldly  life,  those  dis- 
sipations, those  accumulated  rebellions  against 
the  commands  of  heaven;  that  cupidity  which 
engrosses  us,  and  constitutes  all  our  delight,  in 
what  is  all  this  to  terminate?  Observe  the 
tempests  which  it  gathers  around  the  head  of 
those  who  give  themselves  up  to  criminal  in- 
dulgence. Jesus  Christ  was  perfectly  exempt 
from  sin,  but  he  took  ours  upon  himself,  "  he 
bare  them  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,"  1  Pet. 
ii.  24,  and  it  was  for  tliis  end  that  he  under- 
went, on  that  accursed  tree,  all  tliose  torments 
which  his  divinity  and  his  innocence  enabled 
him  to  support,  without  sinking  under  the  load. 
Behold  in  this,  O  sinner,  the  fearful  doom 
which  awaits  thee.  Yes,  unless  thou  art  cruci- 
fied with  Christ  by  faith,  thou  shall  be  by  the 
justice  of  God.  And  then  all  the  fury  of  that 
justice  shall  be  levelled  at  thy  head,  as  it  was 
at  his.  Then  tiiou  shalt  be  exposed  on  a  dying 
bed  to  the  dreadful  conflicts  which  he  endured 
in  Gcthsemane.  Thou  slialt  shudder  at  tlie 
idea  of  that  punishment  whicii  an  avenging 
Deity  is  preparing  for  thee.  Tliou  siialt  sweat 
as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood,  when  the  eye 
is  directed  to  the  tribunal  of  justice  whitlier 
thou  art  going  to  be  dragged.  Nay  more, 
thou  shalt  then  be  condemned  to  compensate, 
by  the  duration  of  thy  punishment,  what  the 
weakness  of  thy  nature  renders  thee  incapable 
of  supporting  in  respect  to  weight.  Ages  ac- 
cumulated upon  ages  shall  set  no  bounds  to 
thy  torments.  Thou  shalt  bo  accursed  of  God 
through  eternity,  as  Jesus  CiuMst  was  in  time: 
and  tiiat  cross  which  thou  refusedst  to  bear  for 
a  time,  thou  must  bear  for  ever  and  ever. 

If  we  consider  the  cross  of  Jesus  Clirist,  with 
relation  to  the  atrocious  guilt  of  those  who 
despise  a  sacrifice  of  such  high  value,  we  shall 
feel  a  powerful  tendency  to  adopt  the  disposi- 
tions of  St.  Paul,  and  to  say  with  him,  "  the 
world  is  crucified  unto  mc,  and  I  am  crucified 
unto  the  world."  Tiie  image  which  I  would 
here  trace  for  your  inspection,  is  still  that  of 
St.  Paul.  This  apostle  depicts  to  us  the  love 
of  tiie  world,  as  a  contempt  of  the  cross  of 
Chrisl,  and  as  a  renewal  of  the  punishment 
whicli  he  sutfered.  The  idea  of  what  such  a 
crime  deserves,  absorbs  and  confounds  his  spi- 
rit; he  cannot  find  colours  strong  enough  to 
paint  it;  and  he  satisfies  himself  with  asking, 
after  he  had  mentioned  tlie  punishment  inflicted 
on  those  who  had  violated  the  law  of  Moses: 
"  Of  how  much  sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye, 
shall  he  bo  thought  worthy,  who  hath  trodden 
under  foot  the  Sun  of  God,  and  hath  counted 


the  blood  of  the  covenant,  wherewitii  he  was 
sanctified,  an  unholy  thing,  and  hath  done  de- 
spite unto  the  spirit  of  grace?"  Heb.  x.  29. 

Here,  sinner,  here  read  thy  sentence!  The 
voice  of  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  will  cry 
from  earth  to  heaven  for  vengeance  against 
thee.  God  will  one  day  call  thee  to  give  an 
account  of  tiic  blood  of  a  Son  so  dear  to  him. 
He  will  say  unto  tiiee  as  St.  Peter  did  to  those 
who  shed  it;  "  Thou  hast  denied  the  Holy 
One  and  the  just  ....  and  killed  the  Prince 
of  Life,"  Acts  iii.  M,  15.  He  will  pursue  thee 
with  all  his  plagues,  as  if  tliou  hadst  imbrued 
thy  hands  in  that  blood,  and  as  he  has  pur- 
sued those  who  were  actually  guilty  of  that 
crime. 

But  less  us  press  motives  more  gentle,  and 
more  congenial  to  the  dignity  of  the  redeemed 
of  the  Lord.  If  we  consider  the  cross  of  Christ, 
in  relation  to  the  proofs  which  he  there  dis- 
plays to  us  of  his  love,  is  it  possible  we  should 
find  any  thing  too  painful  in  the  sacrifices 
which  he  demands  of  u&'  Is  it  possible  for  us 
to  do  too  much  for  that  Jesus  who  has  done  so 
much  for  us?  When  the  heart  feels  a  disposi- 
tion to  revolt  against  the  morality  of  the  gos- 
pel; when  you  are  tempted  to  say,  "  This  is  a 
hard  saying,  who  can  hear  it'"  John  vi.  60: 
When  the  gate  of  heaven  seems  too  strait  for 
you;  when  the  flesh  would  exaggerate  the  dif- 
ficulties of  working  out  your  salvation;  when 
it  seems  as  if  we  were  tearing  the  heart  from 
your  bosom,  in  charging  j'ou  to  curb  the  impe- 
tuosity of  your  temperament,  to  resist  the  tor- 
rent of  irregular  desire,  to  give  a  portion  of 
your  goods  to  the  poor,  to  sacrifice  a  Delilah 
or  a  Drusilla:  follow  your  Saviour  to  Calvary: 
behold  him  passing  the  brook  Kidron,  ascend- 
ing the  fatal  Mount  on  which  his  sacrifice  was 
to  be  accomplisiied;  beiiold  that  concourse  of 
woes  which  constrain  him  to  cry  out,  "  My 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  ma'" 
Matt,  xxvii.  46.  If  ye  can,  hold  out  against 
objects  like  these! 

If  we  consider  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  rela- 
tively to  the  proofs  which  it  supplies  in  support 
of  the  doctrine  of  him  who  there  finished  his 
life,  it  will  be  a  powerful  inducement  to  adopt 
the  sentiments  of  St.  Paul.  It  is  natural,  I 
allow,  for  reasonable  beings,  of  whom  sacrifi- 
ces are  exacted,  so  costly  as  those  which  Chris- 
tianity prescribes,  to  expect  full  assurance  of 
the  truth  of  that  religion.  It  is  impossible  to 
employ  too  much  precaution,  when  the  point 
in  question  is,  whether  or  not  we  are  to  surren- 
der victims  so  beloved.  The  sligiitest  doubt 
on  this  head  is  of  essential  importance.  But 
is  this  article  susceptible  of  the  sligiitest  doubt' 
Jesus  Christ  sealed  with  his  blood  the  doc- 
trine which  ho  taught;  he  was  not  only  the 
hero  of  the  religion  which  we  preach,  but  like- 
wise the  martyr  of  it. 

If  wo  consider  the  cross  of  Christ,  relatively 
to  the  aid  necessary  to  form  us  to  the  senti- 
ments expressed  by  St.  Paul,  it  still  power- 
fully presses  us  to  adopt  them.  It  assures,  on 
the  part  of  God,  of  every  support  we  can 
need,  in  maintaining  the  conflicts  to  which  we 
are  called.  It  lays  the  foundation  of  this  rea- 
soning, the  justest,  the  most  conclusive,  which 
intelligence  ever  formed:  "  If  God  be  for  us, 
who  can  be  against  ua'    He  that  spared  not 


Ser.  LXXX] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


225 


his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all, 
how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us 
all  things?"  Rom.  viii.  31,  32. 

And,  to  conclude  this  discourse  by  repre- 
senting the  same  images  wliicii  we  traced  in 
the  beginning  of  it,  if  we  consider  the  cross  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  relatively  to  the  glory 
which  followed,  it  still  presses  us  to  adopt  the 
sentiments  of  St.  Paul  in  the  text.  The  idea 
of  that  glory  carried  Jesus  Christ  through  all 
that  was  most  painful  in  his  sacrifice.  On  the 
eve  of  consummating  it,  he  thus  addresses  his 
heavenly  Father:  "  The  hour  is  come  that  the 
Son  of  man  should  be  glorified.  Father,  glo- 
rify thy  name Father,   the   hour  is 

come;  glorify  tliy  Son,  that  thy  Son  also  may 

glorify  thee 1  have  glorified  thee  on 

the  earth;  1  have  finished  the  work  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do:  and  now,  O  F'atlicr,  glorify 
thou  me  with  thine  own  self,  with  the  glory 
which  I  had  with  thee  before  the  world  was," 
John  xii.  23.  28;  xvii.  1.4,5.  This  expectation 
was  not  disappointed.  The  conflict  was  long, 
it  was  severe,  but  it  came  to  a  period;  but  hea- 
venly messengers  descended  to  receive  him  as 
he  issued  from  the  tomb;  but  a  cloud  came  to 
raise  him  from  the  earth;  but  the  gates  of  hea- 
ven opened,  with  the  acclamations  of  the 
church  triumphant,  celebrating  his  victories, 
and  hailing  his  exaltation  in  these  strains: 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye 
lifted  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of 
Glory  shall  come  in,"  Ps.  xxiv.  7. 

Christians!  let  our  eyes  settle  on  this  object. 
To  sutfer  with  Jesus  Christ,  is  to  have  full  as- 
surance of  reigning  with  him.     We  do  not 
mean  to  conceal  from  you  the  pains  which 
await  you  in  the  career  prescribed  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Redeemer.     It  is  a  hard  thing  to 
renounce  all  that  flatters,  all  tliat  pleases,  all 
that  charms.     It  is  hard  to  be  told  incessantly 
of  difficulties  to  be  surmounted,  of  enemies  to 
be  encountered,  of  a  cross  to  be  borne,  of  cru- 
cifixion to  be  endured.     It  is  hard  for  a  man  to 
mortify  himself,  while  all  around  him  are  re- 
joicing; while  they  are  refining  on  pleasure; 
while  they  are  employing  their  utmost  inge- 
nuity to  procure  new  amusements;  while  they 
are  distilling  their  brain  to  diversify  their  de- 
lights; while  they  are  spending  life  in  sports, 
in  feasting,  in  gayety,  in  spectacle  on  spec- 
tacle.    The  conflict  is  long,  it  is  violent,  1  ac- 
knowledge it;   but  it  draws  to  a  period;   but 
your  cross  shall  be  followed  by  the  same  tri- 
umph which  that  of  your  Saviour  was:  "  Fa- 
ther, the  liour  is  come,  glorify  thy  Son:"  but 
you,  in  expiring  on  your  cross;  you  shall  with 
holy  joy  and  confidence  commend  your  soul 
to  God,  as  he  commended  his,  and,  closing 
your  eyes  in  death,   say,  "  Father!    into   thy 
hands  1  commend  my  spirit,"  Luke  x.xiii.  46; 
but  the  angels  shall  descend  to  receive  that  de- 
parting s()irit,  to  convey  it  to  the  bosom  of 
your  God;  and  after  having  rejoiced  in  your 
conversion,  they  shall  rejoice  together  in  your 
beatitude,  as  they  rejoiced  in  his;  but  in  the 
great  day  of  the  restitution  of  all  things,  you 
shall  ascend  on  the  clouds  of  heaven,  as  Jesus 
Christ  did;  you  shall  be  exalted,  like  him,  far 
above  all  heavens;  and  you  shall  assume,  to- 
gether with  him,  a  seat  on  the  throne  of  the 
majesty -of  God. 

Vol.  II.— 29 


Thus  it  is  that  the  cross  of  Christ  forms  us 
to  the  sentiments  of  our  apostle;  thus  it  is 
that  wc  are  enabled  to  say,  "  The  world  is  cru- 
cified unto  us,  and  we  are  crucified  unto  the 
world:"  thus  it  is  that  the  cross  conducts  us  to 
the  true  glory.  O  glorious  cross!  thou  shall 
ever  be  the  object  of  my  study,  and  of  my  me- 
ditation! I  will  propose  to  myself  to  know 
nothing,  save  Jesus  Christ  and  him  cruci- 
fied! "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save 
in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by 
whom  the  world  is  crucified  unto  me,  and  I 
unto  the  world!"  May  God  grant  us  this 
grace!     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXX. 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

PART  I. 


Hebrews  ii.  14,  15. 
Forasmuch  then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
Jlcsh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likeicise  took 
pari  of  the  same;  that  through  death  he  might 
destroy  him  that  had  the  poii:er  of  death,  that 
is,  the  devil;  and  deliver  them  who  through 
fear  of  death  icere  all  their  life-time  subject  to 
bondage. 

To  luiow  what  death  is,  without  being  terri- 
fied at  it,  is  the  highest  degree  of  perfection 
attainable  by  the  human  mind;  it  is  the  high- 
est point  of  felicity  which  a  man  can  reach, 
while  in  this  valley  of  tears.  I  say,  to  know 
death  without  fearing  it;  and  it  is  in  the  union 
of  these  two  things  we  are  to  look  for  that  ef- 
fort of  genius  so  worthy  of  emulation,  and  that 
perfection  of  felicity  so  much  calculated  to 
kindle  ardent  desire.  For  to  brave  death 
without  knowing  what  it  is;  to  shut  our  eyes 
against  all  that  is  hideous  in  its  aspect,  in  order 
to  combat  it  with  success,  this  is  so  far  from  in- 
dicating a  superior  excellency  of  disposition, 
that  it  must  be  considered  rather  as  a  mental 
derangement;  so  far  from  being  the  height  of 
felicity,  it  is  the  extreme  of  misery. 

We  have  seen  philosophers  shaking  off  (if 
after  all  they  did  so  in  reality,  and  if  that  in- 
trepid outside  did  not  conceal  a  trembling 
heart,)  we  have  seen  philosophers  shaking  off 
the  fear  of  death;  but  they  did  not  know  it. 
They  viewed  it  only  under  borrowed  aspects. 
They  figured  it  to  themselves,  as  cither  re- 
ducing the  nature  of  man  to  a  state  of  annihi- 
lation, or  as  summoning  him  before  chimericîJ 
tribunals,  or  as  followed  by  a  certain  imagina- 
ry felicity. 

We  have  seen  heroes,  as  the  world  calls 
them,  pretending  to  brave  the  terrors  of  death; 
but  they  did  not  know  it:  they  represented  it 
to  themselves  as  crowned  with  laurels,  as  de- 
corated with  trophies,  as  figuring  on  the  page 
of  the  historian. 

We  have  seen,  and  still  see  every  day,  liber- 
tines pretending  to  brave  the  terrors  of  death, 
but  they  know  it  not.  Their  indolence  is  the 
cause  of  that  assumed  firmness;  and  they  are 
incapable  of  enjoying  tranquillity,  but  by  ban- 
ishing the  idea  of  a  period,  the  horror  of  which 
they  are  unable  to  overcome.  But  not  to  dis- 
guise this  formidable  object;  to  view  it  in  its 


226 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


[Ser.  LXXX. 


true  light;  to  fix  tlio  cyo  steadily  on  every  fea- 
ture; to  liave  a  percei)tion  of  all  its  terrors;  in 
a  word,  to  know  what  death  is,  witliout  being 
terrified  at  it,  to  repeat  it  once  more,  is  the 
highest  degree  of  perlcction  attainable  by  the 
hinnan  mind;  it  is  the  highest  point  of  felicity 
which  a  man  can  reacii  while  in  this  valley  of 
tears. 

Sovereign  wisdom,  my  brethren,  forms  his 
children  to  true  heroism.  That  wisdom  effects 
what  neither  philosophers  by  their  false  max- 
ims, nor  the  heroes  of  the  world  by  their  af- 
fected intrepidity,  nor  the  libertine  by  his  in- 
sensibility and  indolence;  that  wisdom  etTects 
what  all  the  powers  in  the  universe  could  not 
have  produced,  and  alone  bestows  on  the 
Christian  the  privilege  of  knowing  dcalli  witli- 
out fearing  it.  All  this  is  contained  in  the 
words  which  I  have  read  as  the  subject  of  tiie 
present  discourse:  "  through  fear  of  death,  men 
were  all  their  life-time  subject  to  bondage:" 
there  is  the  power  of  death;  there  his  empire; 
there  his  triumph.  Jesus  Christ,  "  through  his 
death,  has  destroyed  him  that  had  tlio  power 
of  death,  that  is  the  devil,  and  delivers  them 
who  through  fear  of  death  were  all  their  life- 
time subject  to  bondage:"  Behold  death  van- 
quished! there  are  his  spoils;  there  is  the  tri- 
umph over  him:  salutary  ideas!  which  will  pre- 
sent themselves  in  succession  to  our  tlioughts 
in  the  sequel  of  this  exercise.  "  Forasmuch 
then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and 
blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took  part  of 
the  same;  that  through  death  he  might  destroy 
him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is  the 
devil:  and  deliver  ihem  who  through  fear  of 
death  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to  bon- 
dage." 

With  respect  to  the  first  words,  "  forasmuch 
as  the  children  are  partakers  of  ilesii  and  blood, 
he  also  himself  likewise  took  part  of  the  same," 
I  shall  only  remark,  that  by  the  children  referred 
to,  we  are  to  understand  men  in  general,  and 
believers  in  particular:  and  by  that  Jlcsk  and 
blood  we  are  not  to  understand  corrujdion,  as 
in  some  other  passages  of  Scripture,  but  hu- 
man nahire;  so  that  wiien  it  is  said,  "  as  the 
children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  Je- 
sus Christ  likewise  took  part  of  the  same," 
the  meaning  is,  he  assumed  a  body  such  as 
ours  is. 

Having  made  these  few  short  remarks  on 
the  first  words,  we  shall  confine  ourselves  to 
the  two  ideas  which  have  been  indicated,  and 
shall  enqiloy  what  remains  of  our  lime,  in 
proving  this  fundamental  truth,  that  Jesus 
Christ,  "  by  his  deatli,  has  destroyed  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil,  in 
order  that  he  might  delFver  them  who  through 
fear  of  death  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to 
bondage." 

The  terrors  of  death  are  expressed  in  terms 
powerfully  energetical,  in  tiiis  text.  It  repre- 
sents to  us  a  migiily  tyrant  causing  death  to 
march  at  his  coniinand,  and  subjecting  the 
whole  universe  to  his  dominion.  This  tyrant 
is  tho  devil.  lie  is  the  personage  here  de- 
cribed,  and  who,  "  through  tho  fear  of  death, 
subjects  men  to  bondage." 

You  stand  agliast,  no  doubt,  on  beholding 
tho  whole  human  race  reduced  to  subjection 
uuder  a  master  so  detestable.     Tho  fact,  how- 


ever, cannot  be  called  in  question;  tliis  great 
enemy  of  our  salvation  unquestionably  exer- 
cises a  sort  of  empire  over  the  universe. 
Though  the  Scriptures  speak  sparingly  of  the 
nature  and  functions  of  this  malignant  spirit, 
they  say  enough  of  tlicm  to  convey  a  striking 
idea  of  his  power,  and  to  render  it  formidable 
to  us.  The  Scripture  tells  us,  I.  That  he 
tempts  men  to  sin;  witness  the  wiles  which  he 
practised  on  our  first  jiarents;  witness  that 
which  St.  Paul  says  of  him  in  chap.  ii.  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Epliesians,  "  the  spirit  that  work- 
etli  in  the  children  of  disobedience;"  witness 
the  name  of  Tci/i/i/er  given  to  him  in  the  gospel 
history.  Matt.  iv.  3.  I'he  Scripture  informs 
us,  II.  That  he  accuses  men  before  God, of 
those  very  crimes  which  he  solicited  them  to 
commit;  witness  the  propiiet  Zeciiariah,  who 
was  "  showed  Joshua  the  liigh-])riest,  standing 
before  the  angel  of  the  Lord,  and  Satan  stand- 
ing at  his  right  hand  to  resist  him;"  or,  as  it 
might  have  been  rendered,,  to  be  his  adversui-y 
or  accuser:  witness  the  descriptive  appellation 
of  calumniator  or  accuser  given  him  by  St. 
John  in  the  Apocalypse.  I'lie  Scripture  tells 
us.  III.  That  he  sometimes  lorments  men;  wit- 
ness the  history  of  Job;  witness  what  St.  Paul 
says  of  his  "  delivering  up  unto  Satan"  the  ii>- 
cestuous  person  at  Corinth.  This  power  of 
delivering  up  to  Satan,  to  mention  it  by  the 
way,  was  a  part  of  the  miraculous  gifts  confer- 
red on  the  apostle;  gifts  transmitted  to  the  im- 
mediately succeeding  ages  of  the  church,  at 
least  if  P;iuliness  is  to  be  credited  on  this  sub- 
ject,* who  relates  that  an  abandoned  wretch 
was,  by  St.  Ainbrosius,  delivered  up  to  Satan, 
who  tore  him  in  pieces.  Finally,  IV.  We  find 
the  devil  designated  in  Scripture,  "  the  god  of 
the  world,"  -  Cor.  iv.  4,  and  "  the  prince  of 
the  power  of  the  air,"  Eph.  ii.  2.  You  like- 
w'ise  see  him  represented  as  acting  on  the  wa- 
ters of  the  sea,  as  raising  tempests,  and  as  smi- 
ting the  children  of  men  with  various  kinds  of 
plagues. 

But  if  the  devil  be  represented  as  exercising 
an  influence  over  the  ills  of  human  life,  he  is 
still  more  especially  represented  as  exerting  his 
power  over  our  death,  tho  last  and  the  most 
formidable  of  all  our  woes.  The  Jews  were 
impressed  with  ideas  of  this  kind.  Nay,  they 
did  not  satisfy  themselves  with  general  notions 
on  this  suliject.  Tliey  entered  into  the  detail 
(for,  my  brethren,  it  has  been  an  infirmity  in- 
cident to  man  in  every  age,  to  assert  confident- 
ly on  subjects  the  most  mysterious  and  conceal- 
ed,) they  said  that  tiie  devil,  to  whom  they 
gave  the  name  of  Samuel,!  had  the  empire  of 
death:"  that  his  power  extended  so  far  as  to 
prevent  the  resurrection  of  the  wicked.  St. 
Paul,  in  the  words  of  our  text,  adopts  their 
mode  of  expiession,  as  his  custom  is,  without 
propagating  their  error:  he  describes  the  evil 
spirit  as  the  person  who  possesses  the  empire  of 
death,  aqd  who,  "  tiirough  the  fear  of  death, 
subjects  men  all  tlieir  lite-time  to  bondage." 

But  Christians,  be  not  dismayed  at  behold- 
ing this  fearful  imago.  "  Surely  there  is  no 
enchantment  against  Jacob,  neither  is  there 
any  divination  against  Israel,"  Numb,  xxiii.  23. 


•  Pauiiu.  dc  Vit.  Ainbrus. 
t  Thaliii.  iu  Libo.  Cupht. 


Skr.  LXXX.] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


227 


"  Now  is  come  salvation  and  strength,  and  the 
kinfrdom  of  our  God,  and  the  power  of  liis 
Christ;  for  tlie  accuser  of  our  hrethren  is  cast 
down,  wliich  accused  them  before  our  God  day 
and  night.  And  they  overcame  him  by  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb,"  Rev.  xii.  10,  11.  Let  us, 
however,  reduce  our  reflections  on  the  subject 
to  method.  Three  considerations  render  death 
formidable  to  man;  three  considerations  disarm 
death  in  the  apprehension  of  the  Christian; 
1 .  The  veil  wliicii  conceals  from  the  eyes  of 
llie  dying  person,  the  state  on  which  he  is 
about  to  enter:  2.  The  remorse  of  conscience 
which  the  recollection  of  his  guilt  excites:  3. 
The  loss  of  titles,  honours,  and  every  other 
earthly  possession.  In  these  respects  cliiefly, 
"  he  who  has  the  power  of  death  subjects  men 
to  bondage:"  these  are  the  things  which  ren- 
der death  formidable. 

In  opposition  to  this,  the  death  of  Jesus 
Christ,  1.  Removes  the  veil  which  concealed 
futurity  from  us,  and  constitutes  an  authentic 
proof  of  tiio  immortality  of  the  soul:  2.  Tiie 
death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  sacrifice  presented  to 
divine  justice  for  tiie  remission  of  oursins:  3. 
The  deatli  of  Jesus  Christ  gives  us  complete 
assurance  of  a  blessed  eternity.  These  are  the 
three  considerations  which  disarm  death  in  the 
apprehension  of  the  dying  believer.  And  this 
is  a  brief  abstract  of  the  important  truths  deli- 
vered in  tliis  text. 

The  devil  renders  death  formidable,  through 
uncertainty  respecting  the  nature  of  our  souls; 
the  death  of  Christ  dispels  that  terror,  by  de- 
monstrating to  us  that  the  soul  is  immortal. 
The  devil  renders  death  formidable  by  awaken- 
ing the  recollection  of  past  guilt;  the  death  of 
Jesus  Christ  restores  confidence  and  joy,  for  it 
is  the  expiation  of  all  our  sins.  The  devil 
clothes  death  with  terror,  by  rendering  us  sen- 
sible to  the  loss  of  those  possessions  of  which 
death  is  going  to  deprive  us;  the  death  of  Jesus 
Christ  tranquillizes  the  mind,  because  it  is  a 
pledge  to  us  of  an  eternal  felicity.  The  first 
of  these  ideas  represents  Jesus  Christ  to  us  as 
a  martyr,  who  has  sealed  with  his  own  blood  a 
doctrine  which  rests  entirely  on  the  immortali- 
ty of  the  soul.  The  second  represents  him  as 
a  victim,  offering  himself  in  our  stead,  to  di- 
vine justice.  And  the  third  represents  him  as 
a  conqueror,  who  has,  by  his  death,  acquired 
for  us  a  kingdom  of  everlasting  bliss. 

Had  we  nothing  farther  in  view,  than  to  pre- 
sent you  with  vague  ideas  of  the  sentiments  of 
the  sacred  autiiors,  on  this  subject,  here  our 
discourse  might  be  concluded.  But  these 
truths,  treated  thus  generally,  could  make  but 
a  slight  impression.  It  is  of  importance  to 
press  them  one  by  one,  and,  opposing  in  every 
particular,  the  triumph  of  the  Redeemer,  to 
the  empire  of  the  wicked  one,  to  place  in  its 
clearest  point  of  light,  the  interesting  truth 
contained  in  our  text,  namely,  that  Jesus  Clirist, 
"through  his  own  death,  has  destroyed  him 
who  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil; 
that  he  might  deliver  them  who,  tlirough  fear 
of  death,  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to 
bondage." 

I.  The  first  consideration  which  renders 
death  formidable:  the  first  yoke  imposed  on 
the  necks  of  the  children  of  men,  by  that  tre- 
mendous prince  who  "  has  the  power  of  death," 


is  the  fear  of  falling  back  into  nothing,  which 
the  prospect  of  death  awakens.  The  greatest 
of  all  the  advantages  which  we  possess,  and 
tliat  which  indeed  is  the  foundation  of  all  the 
rest,  is  existence.  We  accordingly  observe 
that  old  people,  though  all  their  faculties  are 
much  impaired,  alwiiys  enjoy  a  certain  name- 
less superiority  over  young  persons.  The  re- 
flection that  there  was  a  time  when  they  ex- 
isted, while  as  yet  the  young  did  not  exist, 
constitutes  tliis  superiority;  and  young  persons, 
in  their  turn,  feel  a  suj)eriority  suggested  to 
them  by  tlie  thouglit,  that  a  time  is  coming 
when  they  shall  e.Mst;  whereas  the  others  shall 
be  no  more.  Death  terminates,  to  appearance, 
an  advantage  which  is  the  foundation  of  every 
other.  And  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  heart  of 
man  sliould  sink  under  such  a  consideration? 

In  vain  will  we  flee  for  refuge  from  this  de- 
pressing reflection,  to  the  arguments  which 
reason,  even  a  well-directed  reason,  supplies. 
If  they  are  satisfying  of  themselves,  and  cal- 
culated to  impress  the  philosophic  mind,  they 
are  far  beyond  the  reach  of  a  vulgar  under- 
standing, to  whicl)  the  very  terms  spirituality 
and  existence  are  barF)arous  and  unintelligible. 
To  no  purpose  will  we  have  recourse  to  what 
has  been  said  on  tliis  subject,  by  the  most  en- 
lightened of  the  pagan  world,  and  to  what,  in 
particular,  Tacitus  relates  of  Seneca,*  on  his 
going  into  the  bath  wiiich  was  to  receive  the 
blood,  as  it  streamed  from  his  opened  veins:  he 
besprinkled  the  bystanders  with  the  fluid  in 
which  his  limbs  were  immerged,  with  this  me- 
morable expression,  that  he  presented  those 
drops  of  water  as  a  libation  to  Jupiter  the  De- 
liverer. In  order  to  secure  us  against  terrors 
so  formidable,  we  must  have  a  guide  more  safe 
than  our  own  reason.  In  order  to  obtain  a  per- 
suasion of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  we 
must  have  a  .security  less  suspicious  than  that 
of  a  Socrates  or  a  Platp.  Now  tliat  guide, 
my  brethren,  is  tiie  cross  of  Jesus  Christ:  that 
security  is  an  expiring  Redeemer.  Two  prin- 
ciples concur  in  the  demonstration  of  all-im- 
portant trutli. 

1.  The  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  establishes 
the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

2.  Tlie  death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  an  irresisti- 
ble proof  of  tlie  truth  of  his  doctrine. 

I.  Tiiat  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  estab- 
lishes the  immortality  of  the  soul   is  a  point 
which  no  one  pretends  to  dispute  with  us.     A 
man  has  but  to  open  his  eyes  in  order  to  be 
convinced  of  it.     We  shall,  accordingly,  make 
but  a  single  remark  on  this  head.     It  is  this, 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
ought  not  to  be  considered  merely  as  a  particu- 
lar point  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  inde- 
pendent of  which  it  may  subsist  as  a  complete 
whole.    It  is  a  point  without  which  Christianity 
cannot  exist  at  all,  and  separated  from  which 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  fullest,  the 
most  complete,  and  the  most  consistent  that 
ever  was  presented  to  the  world,  becomes  the 
most  imperfect,  barren,  and  inconsistent.    The 
whole  fabric  of  the  gospel  rests  on  this  founda- 
tion, that  the  soul   is  immortal.     Wherefore 
was  it  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  Lord  of  universal 
nature,  had  a  manger  for  his  cradle,  and  a  sta- 


'  Annal»  Lib.  xv. 


228 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DKATII. 


rSEa.  LXXX. 


ble  for  his  palace?  because  Iiis  "kingdom  was 
not  of  this  world,"  John  xviii.  10.  This  sup- 
poses the  inunortality  uf  tlio  soul.  Wherefore 
is  the  Christian  encouraged  to  bid  defiance  to 
tyrants,  who  may  drag  liim  from  a  prison,  from 
a  dungeon,  who  may  nail  liiin  to  a  cross,  who 
may  mangle  his  body  on  a  wheel?  it  is  because 
their  power  e.xtcnds  no  farther  than  to  the 
♦'  killing  of  the  body,"  Matt.  x.  28,  while  the 
soul  is  placed  far  beyond  their  reach.  This 
supposes  immortality.  Wherefore  must  the 
Christian  deem  himself  miserable,  were  he  to 
achieve  the  con(iucst  of  the  whole  world,  at 
the  expense  of  a  good  conscience?  Because  it 
will  "  profit  a  man  nothing  to  gain  the  whole 
world,  if  he  lose  his  own  soul,"  Matt.  xvi.  26. 
This  supposes  immortality.  Wherefore  are  we 
not  the  most  miserable  of  all  creatures?  Be- 
cause "  we  have  hope  in  Clirist  not  for  this  life 
only,"  1  Cor.  xv.  19.  This  supposes  immor- 
tahty.  The  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ,  therefore, 
establishes  the  truth  of  the  immortality  of  the 
eoul. 

2.  But  we  said,  in  the  second  place,  that  the 
death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  proof  of  his  doctrine. 
He  referred  the  world  to  his  death,  as  a  sign  by 
which  it  miglit  be  ascertained  whether  or  not 
he  came  from  God.  By  tiiis  he  proposed  to 
stop  the  mouth  of  incredulity.  Neither  the 
parity  of  his  life,  nor  the  sanctity  of  his  deport- 
ment, nor  the  lustre  of  his'  miracles  had  as  yet 
prevailed  so  far  as  to  convince  an  unbelieving 
world  of  the  truth  of  his  mission.  They  must 
Lave  sign  upon  sign,  prodigy  upon  prodigy. 
Jesus  Christ  restricts  himself  to  one:  "  Destroy 
this  temple,  and  within  tiirec  days  I  will  build 
it  up  again,"  Mark  xiv.  58.  "  An  evil  and 
adulterous  generation  sceketh  after  a  sign;  and 
there  shall  no  sign  be  given  to  it,  but  the  sign 
of  the  prophet  Jonas,"  Matt.  xii.  39.  This 
Bign  could  not  labour  under  any  ambiguity. 
And  this  sign  was  accomplislied.  There  is  no 
longer  room  to  doubt"  of  a  truth  demonstrated 
in  a  manner  so  illustrious. 

Our  ancestors  devised,''  with  greater  simpli- 
city, it  must  be  allowed,  than  strength  of  rea- 
soning, a  very  singular  proof  of  the  innocence 
of  persons  accused.  They  presented  to  them  a 
bar  of  hot  iron.  If  the  person  under  trial  had 
the  firmness  to  grasp  it,  and  received  no  injury 
from  the  action  of  the  burning  metal,  he  was 
acquitted  of  the  charge.  This  proof  was,  as 
we  have  said,  devised  with  more  simplicity  tlian 
strength  of  reasoning:  no  one  having  a  right  to 
suppose  that  God  will  perform  a  miracle,  to 
evince  his  innocence  to  the  conviction  of  his 
judges.  I  acknowledge  at  the  same  time,  that 
had  1  been  an  eye-witness  of  such  an  experi- 
ment; had  1  beheld  that  element  which  dis- 
solves, which  devours  bodies  the  most  obdurate, 
respecting  the  hand  of  a  person  accused  of  a 
crime,  1  should  certainly  have  been  very  much 
struck  at  the  sight  of  such  a  spectacle. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world,  after  the  proof  to  which  he  was  put' 
He  "  walked  tlirough  the  fire  without  being 
burnt,"  Isa.  xliii.  2.  He  descended  into  the 
bosom  of  the  grave:  the  grave  respected  him, 
and  those  other  insatiables  which  never  say  "  it 
is  enough,"  Prov.  xxx.   16,  opened  a  passage 


Ra»i|ui<r  lUrlitr.  ili;  la  Kraiicp,  liv.  iv.  2. 


for  his  return  to  the  light.  You  feel  the  force 
of  this  argument.  Jesus  Christ,  having  died  in 
support  of  the  truth  of  a  doctrine  entirely  found- 
ed on  the  supposition  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  there  is  no  longer  room  to  doubt  whether 
the  soul  be  immortal. 

Let  us  here  pause  for  a  few  moments,  and 
before  wc  enter  on  the  second  branch  of  our 
subject,  let  us  consider  how  far  this  position,  so 
clearly  proved,  so  firmly  cstablislied,  has  a  ten- 
dency to  fortify  us  against  the  fears  of  death. 

Supi)ose  for  an  instant  that  we  knew  nothing 
respecting  the  state  of  souls,  after  this  life  is 
closed,  and  respecting  the  economy  on  which  we 
must  then  enter;  8up|>osing  God  to  have  granted 
us  no  revelation  whatever  on  this  interesting 
article,  but  simply  this,  that  our  souls  are  im- 
mortal, a  slight  degree  of  meditation  on  the 
case,  as  thus  stated,  ought  to  operate  as  an  in- 
ducement rather  to  wish  for  death,  than  to  fear 
it.  It  appears  probable  that  the  soul,  when 
disengaged  from  the  senses,  in  which  it  is  now 
enveloped,  will  subsist  in  a  manner  infinitely 
more  noble  than  it  could  do  here  below,  during 
its  union  with  matter.  We  are  perfectly  con- 
vinced that  the  body  will,  one  day,  contribute 
greatly  to  our  felicity;  it  is  an  essential  part  of 
our  being,  without  which  our  happiness  must 
be  incomplete.  But  this  necessity,  which  fet- 
ters down  the  functions  of  the  soul,  on  this 
earth,  to  the  irregular  movements  of  ill-assort- 
ed matter,  is  a  real  bondage.  The  soul  is  a 
prisoner  in  this  body.  A  prisoner  is  a  man  sus- 
ceptible of  a  thousand  delights,  but  who  can 
enjoy,  however,  only  such  pleasures  as  are  com- 
patible with  the  extent  of  the  place  in  which 
lie  is  shut  up:  Iiis  scoi)e  is  limited  to  the  capa- 
city of  his  dungeon:  he  beholds  the  light  only 
through  the  aperture  of  tliat  dungeon:  all  his 
intercourse  is  confined  to  tlie  persons  who  ap- 
proach his  dungeon.  But  let  his  prison-doors 
be  thrown  open;  from  that  moment,  behold  him 
in  a  state  of  much  higher  felicity.  Thencefor- 
ward he  can  maintain  social  intercourse  with 
all  the  men  in  the  world;  thenceforward  he 
can  contemplate  an  unbounded  body  of  light; 
thenceforward  he  is  able  to  expatiate  over  the 
spacious  universe. 

This  exhibits  a  portrait  of  the  soul.  A  pri- 
soner to  the  senses,  it  can  enjoy  those  delights 
only  which  have  a  reference  to  sense.  It  can 
see  only  by  means  of  the  cuticles  and  the  fibres 
of  its  eyes:  it  can  hear  only  by  means  of  the  ac- 
tion of  tlie  nerves  and  tympanum  of  its  ears:  it 
can  think  only  in  conformity  to  certain  modifi- 
cations of  its  brain.  The  soul  is  susceptible  of 
a  thousand  pleasures,  of  wliicii  it  has  not  so 
much  as  the  idea.  A  blind  man  has  a  soul  ca- 
pable of  admitting  the  sensation  of  light;  if  he 
be  deprived  of  it,  the  reason  is,  his  senses  are 
defective,  or  improperly  disposed.  Our  souls 
are  susceptible  of  a  thousand  unknown  sensa- 
tions; but  they  receive  them  not,  in  this  econo- 
my of  imperfection  and  wretchedness,  because 
it  is  the  will  of  God  that  they  should  perceive 
only  through  the  medium  of  those  organs,  and 
tliat  those  organs,  from  their  limited  nature, 
sliould  bo  capable  of  admitting  only  limited 
sensations. 

J{ut  permit  the  soul  to  expatiate  at  large,  let 
it  take  its  natural  llight,  let  these  prison  walls 
bo  broken  down,  O,  then!  the  soul  becomes 


Ser.  LXXX.] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


229 


capable  of  ten  thousand  inconceivable  new  do- 
lights.  Wherefore  do  you  point  to  that  ghastly 
corpse?  Wherefore  de[>lore  those  eyes  closed  to 
the  light,  those  spiritii  evaporated,  that  blood 
frozen  in  the  veins,  that  motionless,  lifeless 
mass  of  corruption?  Why  do  you  say  to  me, 
"  My  friend,  my  father,  my  sjiouse  is  no  more; 
he  sees,  ho  hears,  he  acts  no  longer."  He  secH 
no  longer,  do  you  say?  Ho  sees  no  longer,  I 
grant,  by  means  of  those  visual  rays  which 
were  formed  in  the  retina  of  the  eye;  but  he 
6068  as  do  tiiose  pure  intelligences  wiiicli  never 
were  clothed  with  mortal  flesh  and  blood.  He 
hears  no  more  through  the  medium  of  tiie  ac- 
tion of  the  ethereal  fluid,  but  he  hears  as  a  pure 
spirit.  He  thinks  no  longer  through  the  inter- 
vention of  the  fibres  of  his  brain;  but  he  tliiuks 
from  his  own  essence,  because,  being  a  spirit, 
the  faculty  of  thougiil  is  essential  to  him,  and 
inseparable  from  his  nature. 

SERMON  LXXX. 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

PART  11. 


Hebrews  ii.  14,  15 
Forasmnch  then  as  the  children  arc  partakers  of 
Jiesh  and  blood,  ht  also  himself  likewise  took 
pari  of  the  same:  that  throiigh  death  he  might 
destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is, 
the  devil:  and  deliver  them  who  through  fear  of 
death  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to  bondage. 
In  discoursing  from  tiiese  words,  we  observed, 
that  deatii  is  rendered  formidable  to  man,  by  a 
threefold  consideration,  and  that  three  conside- 
rations of  an  opposite  nature  strip  him  of  all 
his  terrors,  in  the  eye  of  the  believer  in  Christ 
Jesus.     Death  is  formidable,  1.  Because  of  the 
veil  which  conceals  from  the  eyes  of  the  dying 
person,  that  state  on  which    he  is  about   to 
enter.     2.  From  remorse  of  conscience,  wliich 
the  recollection  of  past  guilt  excites.    3.  From 
the  loss  of  titles,  honours,  and  all  other  earthly 
possessions. 

In  opposition  to  these,  tiie  death  of  Christ, 
1.  Removes  the  veil  which  conceals  futurity, 
and  constitutes  an  authentic  proof  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul.  2.  It  is  a  sacrifice  pre- 
sented to  divine  justice  for  the  remission  of  sin. 
3.  It  gives  us  complete  assurance  of  a  blessed 
eternity.  These  are  the  considerations  which 
disarm  death  of  his  terrors  to  the  dying  believer. 
We  have  finished  what  was  proposed  on  the 
first  particular,  and  have  shown,  1.  That  the 
doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  fully  establishes  the 
soul's  immortality;  and,  2.  That  the  death  of 
Jesus  Christ  is  an  irresistible  proof  of  the  truth 
of  his  doctrine. 

But  to  no  purpose  would  it  be  to  fortify  the 
mind  against  the  apprehension  of  ceasing  to 
exist,  unless  we  are  delivered  from  tlie  terror 
of  being  for  ever  miserable.  In  vain  is  it  to 
have  demonstrated  tiiatour  souls  are  immortal, 
if  we  are  haunted  with  the  well-grounded  ap- 
prehension of  their  falling  into  the  hands  of 
that  God  who  "  is  a  consuming  fire."  In  this 
case,  what  constitutes  a  man's  greatness  would 
constitute  his  misery.     Let  us  endeavour, 


II.  In  the  second  plane,  to  dissipate  the 
dreadful  apprehension  which  a  guilty  con- 
science awakens  in  the  pro-i^pect  of  judgment 
to  come.  Having  considered  Jesus  Christ  as  a 
martyr,  who  sealed  willi  his  own  blood  the  doc- 
trine which  ho  preached,  and  his  death  as  an 
argument  in  support  of  the  iuunortality  of  the 
soul  taught  in  that  doctrine;  let  us  contemplate 
our  divine  Saviour  as  a  victim,  which  Ciod  haa 
substituted  in  our  place,  and  his  death  as  a 
sacrifice  olVered  up  to  divine  justice,  for  the  ex- 
piation of  our  offences. 

One  of  the  i)rincipal  dangers  to  be  avoided 
in  controversies,  and  particularly  in  that  which 
we  are  going  to  handle,  is  to  imagine  that  all 
arguments  are  of  equal  force.  Extreme  care 
must  be  taken  to  assign  to  each  its  true  limits, 
and  to  say,  this  argument  proves  thus  far,  that 
other  goes  so  much  farther.  We  must  thus 
advance  step  by  step  up  to  truth,  and  form,  of 
those  arguments  united,  a  demonstration  so 
much  the  more  satisfactory,  in  proportion  as 
we  have  granted  to  those  who  dispute  it,  all 
that  they  could  in  reason  ask.  On  this  princi- 
ple we  divide  our  arguments  into  two  classefl. 
The  first  we  projjose  only  as  presumptions  in 
fiivour  of  the  doctrine  of  the  satisfaction.  To 
the  second  we  ascribe  tiie  solidity  and  weight 
of  demonstration.  Of  tlie  first  class  are  the 
following- 

I.  We  allege  human  reason  as  a  presump- 
tive argument  in  support  of  the  doctrine  which 
we  maintain.  We  do  not  mean  to  affirm,  that 
human  reason  derives  from  the  stores  of  her 
own  illumination  the  truth  of  this  doctrine. 
So  far  from  that  we  confidently  aftirin,  that 
this  is  one  of  the  mysteries  which  are  infinitely 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  understanding.  It 
is  one  of"  the  things  wliich  eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neitiier  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man,"  1  Cor.  ii.  9.  But  we  say  that 
this  mystery  presents  nothing  that  siiocks  hu- 
man reason,  or  that  implies  a  shadow  of  con- 
tradiction. What  do  we  believe?  That  God 
has  united  the  human  nature  to  the  divine,  in 
the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  a  manner  some- 
what resembling  that  in  which  he  has  united 
the  body  to  the  soul,  in  the  person  of  man. 
We  say  that  this  composition  (pardon  the  ex- 
pression,) tills  composition  of  Humanity  and 
of  Deity  suffered  in  what  was  human  of  it;  and 
that  what  was  divine  gave  value  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  man,  somewhat  after  the  manner 
in  which  we  put  respect  on  a  human  body,  not 
as  a  material  substance,  but  as  united  to  an 
intelligent  soul. 

These  are  the  terms  in  which  wo  propose 
our  mystery.  And  there  is  nothing  in  this 
which  involves  a  contradiction.  If  we  had 
said  that  the  Divinity  and  Humanity  were  con- 
founded or  common;  if  we  had  said  that 
Deity,  who  is  impassible,  suffered;  if  we  had 
said  that  Jesus  Christ  as  God  made  satisfaction 
to  Jesus  Christ  as  God,  reason  might  have 
justly  reclaimed;  but  we  say  that  Jesus  Christ 
suflered  as  man;  we  say  that  the  two  natures 
in  his  person  were  distinct;  we  say  that  Jesus 
Christ,  suffering  as  a  man,  made  satisfaction 
to  God  maintaining  the  rights  of  Deity.  This 
is  the  first  step  we  advance  in  this  career. 
Our  first  argument  we  carry  tlius  far,  and  no 
farther. 


230 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


[Ser.  LXXX. 


II.  Our  second  arriment  is  taken  from  the 
divine  justice.  Wo  say  tliat  the  idea  wliich  we 
liave  of  tlie  divine  justice  jjre.sents  nothing  in- 
consistent with  the  doctrine  we  are  endeavour- 
in»  to  estabiisli,  but  on  the  contrary  leads  us 
directly  to  adopt  it.  The  divine  justice  would 
lie  in  opposition  to  our  doctrine,  did  we  aflirni 
that  the  innocent  Jesus  sutlered  as  an  innocent 
person;  but  we  say  tliat  he  sulFt-red,  as  loaded 
with  the  guilt  of  the  whole  human  race.  The 
divine  justice  would  be  in  opposition  to  our 
doctrine,  did  we  aflirni  tliat  Jesus  Christ  had 
"  the  iniquity  of  us  all  laid  upon  him,"  whether 
he  would  or  not;  but  we  say  that  he  took  this 
heavy  load  upon  himself  voluntarily.  The  di- 
vine justice  would  be  in  opposition  to  our  doc- 
trine, did  we  affirm  that  Jesus  Christ  took  on 
himself  the  load  of  human  guilt,  to  encourage 
men  in  the  practice  of  sin;  but  we  say  that  he 
acted  thus  in  the  view  of  sanctifying  them,  by 
procuring  their  pardon.  The  divine  justice 
would  be  in  opposition  to  our  doctrine  did  we 
affirm  tiiat  Jesus  Christ,  in  assuming  the  load 
of  our  guilt,  sunk  under  the  weight  of  it,  so 
that  the  universe,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  guilty 
wretches,  was  deprived  of  the  most  distinguish- 
ed being  that  could  possibly  e.xist;  but  we  say 
that  Jesus  Christ,  in  dying  for  us,  came  off 
victorious  over  death  and  tlie  grave.  The  di- 
vine justice,  therefore,  presents  nothing  incon- 
sistent with  tiie  doctrine  of  the  satisfaction. 

But  we  go  much  farther,  and  affirm,  tiiat  the 
idea  of  divine  justice  leads  directly  to  the  doc- 
trine. Tlie  atonement  corresponds  to  tlie  de- 
mands of  justice.  We  shall  not  here  presume 
to  determine  the  question,  whether  it  is  possi- 
ble for  God,  consistently  with  his  perfections, 
to  pardon  sin  without  exacting  a  satisfaction. 
Whatever  advantage  wo  might  have  over  those 
who  deny  our  thesis,  we  shall  not  press  it  on 
the  present  occasion.  But,  in  any  case,  they 
must  be  disposed  to  make  this  concession,  that 
if  the  wisdom  of  God  has  devised  the  means 
of  obtaining  a  signal  satisfaction  to  justice,  in 
unison  with-  the  most  illustrious  display  of 
goodness;  if  he  can  give  to  the   universe  an 


hence  those  hecatombs;  hence  those  human 
victims;  hence  tliat  blood  which  streamed  on 
the  altars,  and  so  many  other  rites  of  religious 
worship,  the  existence  of  which  no  one  is  dis- 
posed to  call  in  question.  What  consequence 
do  we  deduce  from  this  position.'  The  truth 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement'  No:  we  do 
not  carry  our  inference  so  far.  We  only  con- 
clude, that  there  is  no  room  to  run  down  the 
Christian  religion,  if  it  instructs  us  that  God 
demanded  satisfaction  to  his  justice,  by  an 
ex[)iatory  sacrifice,  before  he  could  give  an  un- 
restrained course  to  his  goodness.  This  third 
argument  we  carry  thus  far,  and  no  farther. 

4.  A  fourth  reflection  hinges  on  the  corres- 
pondence of  our  belief,  respecting  this  par- 
ticular, with  that  of  every  age  of  the  Christian 
church,  in  uninterrupted  succession,  from  Jesus 
Christ  down  to  our  own  times.  All  the  ages 
of  the  Christian  world  have,  as  we  do,  spoken  ' 
of  this  sacrifice.  But  we  must  not  enlarge. 
Whoever  wishes  for  complete  information  on 
this  particular,  Avill  find  a  very  accurate  collec- 
tion of  the  testimonies  of  the  fathers,  at  the 
end  of  the  treatise  on  the  satisfaction,  com- 
posed by  the  celebrated  Grotius.  The  doctrine 
of  the  atonement,  therefore,  is  not  a  doctrine 
of  yesterday,  but  has  been  transmitted  from 
age  to  age,  from  Jesus  Christ  down  to  our  own 
times.  This  argument  we  carry  thus  far  and 
no  farther. 

Here  then  we  have  a  class  of  arguments 
which,  after  all,  we  would  have  you  to  consi- 
der only  as  so  many  presumptions  in  favour  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  atonement.  But  surely 
we  are  warranted  to  proceed  thus  far,  at  least, 
in  concluding;  a  doctrine  in  which  human  rea- 
son finds  nothing  contradictory:  a  doctrine 
which  presents  nothing  repugnant  to  the  di- 
vine attributes,  nay,  to  which  the  divine  at- 
tributes directly  lead  us;  a  doctrine  perfectly 
conformable  to  the  suggestions  of  conscience, 
and  to  the  practice  of  mankind  in  every  age, 
and  of  every  nation;  a  doctrine  received  in 
the  Christian  church  from  the  beginning  till 
now;  a  doctrine  which,  in  all  its  parts,  pre- 


unequivocal  proof  of  his  abhorrence  of  sin,  in  sents  nothing  but  what  is  entirely  worthy  of 
the  very  act  of  pardoning  the  sinner;  if  there  ~  ■  • 
be  a  method  to  keep  oflenders  in  awe,  even 
while  mercy  is  extended  to  them,  it  must  un- 
doubtedly bo  more  proper  to  employ  such  a 
method  than  to  omit  it.  This  is  the  second 
step  we  advance  towards  our  conclusion.  Our 
second  argument  we  carry  thus  far,  and  no 
farther. 

3.  Our  third  consideration  is  taken  from  the 
suggestions  of  conscience,  and  from  the  prac- 
tice of  all  nations.  Look  at  the  most  polished, 
and  at  the  most  barbarous  tribes  of  the  human 
race;  at  nations  the  most  idolatrous,  and  at 
those  which  have  discovered  the  purest  ideas 
on  the  Rulijcct  of  religion.  Consult  authors  of 
the  remotest  antiquity,  and  authors  the  most 
recent:  transport  yourself  to  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians, to  tlie  I'henicians,  to  the  Gauls,  to  the 
Carthaginians,  and  you  will  find  that,  in  all 
ages,  and  in  every  part  of  the  globe,  men  have 
expressed  a  belief  that  the  Deity  expected  sa- 
crifices should  be  otiered  up  to  him:  nay,  not 
only  sacrifices,  but  such  as  had,  as  far  as  it  was 
possible,  Homcthiiig  like   a   pro|)ortion  to   his 


God,  when  we  examine  it  at  the  tribunal  of 
our  own  understanding:  sucii  a  doctrine  con- 
tains nothing  to  excite  our  resentment,  no- 
thing that  we  ought  not  to  bo  disposed  to  ad- 
mit, if  we  find  it  clearly  laid  down  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. 

Now,  my  brethren,  wo  have  only  to  open 
the  Bible  in  order  to  find  express  testimonies 
to  this  purpose;  and  not  only  do  we  meet 
with  an  infinite  iminber  of  passages  in  which 
the  doctrine  is  clearly  taught,  but  a  multitude 
of  classes  of  such  passages. 

1.  In  the  first  class,  we  must  rank  all  those 
passages  which  declare  that  Jesus  Christ  died 
lor  us.  It  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  enu- 
merate tliem;  "  I  delivered  unto  you  first  of 
all,"  says  St.  Paul  in  his  first  e|)istle  to  the 
Corinthians,  xv.  .3,  "  tliat  which  I  also  receiv- 
ed, how  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,  according 
to  the  Scriptures."  "  Christ  also  hath  once 
suflered  for  sins,"  says  St.  Peter,  in  his  first 
epistle  general,  iii.  18,  "the  just  for  the  un- 
just, that  he  might  bring  us  to  God." 

a.  In  a  sticond  class  must  be  ranked  those 


greatnosB.     llcnco  tliosc  magnificent  temples;  |  passages  wliich  represent  Jesus  Christ  as  suf- 


Ser.  LXXX.] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


231 


fering  the  punishment  which  we  had  deserved. 
The  fifty-third  chapter  of  the  prophet  Is;iiah 
turns  entirely  on  this  subject;  and  tJie  apostles 
hold  the  BcH-sanio  ianfjuage.  They  say  ex- 
pressly that  Christ  "  was  made  to  be  sin  lor 
us,  who  knew  no  sin,"  2  Cor.  v.  21,  that  he 
was  "  made  a  curse  for  us,"  Gal.  iii.  13,  that 
he  "  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree," 
1  Pet.  ii.  2-1. 

3.  In  a  third  class  must  be  ranked  all  those 
passages  in  which  our  salvation  is  represented 
as  being  the  fruit  of  Christ's  death.  The  per- 
sons, whose  ojjinions  we  are  combating,  main- 
tain themselves  on  a  ground  which  we  esta- 
blished in  a  former  branch  of  this  discourse, 
namely,  that  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  was  a 
demonstration  of  the  truth  of  his  doctrine. 
They  say  that  this  is  the  reason  for  which  our 
salvation  is  considered  as  the  ellcct  of  that 
death.  But  if  we  are  saved  by  the  death  of 
Jesus  Christ,  merely  because  it  has  sealed  a 
doctrine  which  leads  to  salvation,  how  comes 
it  then,  that  our  salvation  is  nowhere  ascrib- 
ed to  the  other  parts  of  his  ministry,  which 
contributed,  no  less  than  his  death,  to  the  con- 
firmation of  his  doctrine?  Were  not  the  mira- 
cles of  Jesus  Christ,  for  example,  proofs  equal- 
ly authentic  as  his  death  was,  of  the  trulii  of 
his  doctrine?  Whence  comes  it,  that  our  salva- 
tion is  nowhere  ascribed  to  tiiem?  This  is  the 
very  thing  we  are  maintaining.  The  resurrec- 
tion, the  ascension,  the  miracles  were  absolute- 
ly necessary  to  give  us  assurance,  that  the 
wrath  of  God  was  appeased;  but  Christ's  death 
alone  was  capable  of  producing  tliat  eftect. 
You  will  more  sensibly  feel  the  force  of  tiiis 
argument,  if  you  attend  to  the  connexion 
which  our  text  has  with  what  follows  in  the 
nth  verse,  "  Wherefore  in  all  things  it  behov- 
ed him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  breliiren;  that 
he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faitliful  high  priest 
....  to  make  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of 
the  people." 

If  we  are  saved  by  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ, 
merely  because  that  event  sealed  the  truth  of 
his  doctrine,  wherefore  should  it  have  been 
necessary  for  him  to  assume  our  flesh?  Had 
he  descended  from  heaven  in  the  eliulgence  of 
his  glory;  had  he  appeared  upon  Mount  Zion, 
such  as  he  was  upon  Mount  Sinai,  in  flashes 
of  lightning,  with  the  voice  of  thunder,  with  a 
retinue  of  angels;  would  not  the  truth  of  the 
gospel  have  been  established  infijiitely  better 
than  by  the  death  of  a  man?  Wherefore,  then, 
was  it  necessary  that  Christ  should  die?  It  was 
because  the  victim  of  our  transgressions  must 
be  put  to  death.  This  is  St.  Paul's  reasoning. 
And  for  this  reason  it  is  that  our  salvation  is 
nowhere  ascribed  to  the  death  of  the  martyrs, 
though  the  death  of  the  martyrs  was,  like  that 
of  Jesus  Christ,  a  proof  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel. 

4.  In  a  fourth  class,  must  be  ranked  all 
those  passages  which  represent  the  death  of 
Jesus  Christ  as  the  body  and  the  reality,  of 
which  all  the  sacrifices  prescribed  by  the  law 
were  but  the  figure  and  the  shadow.  We 
shall  select  a  single  one  out  of  a  nmltitude. 
The  greatest  part  of  the  Epistle  to  the  He- 
brews may  be  quoted  to  this  eftect.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  the  great  object  of  its  author  is  to 
engage  Christians  to  look  for  that  iu  the  sacri- 


fice of  JesuB  Christ,  which  the  Jews,  to  no  pur- 
pose, sought  for  in  those  which  Moses  pro- 
scribed. Now  what  did  the  Jews  look  for  iu 
their  sacrificea'  ^Vas  it  not  the  means  of  ap- 
peasing the  Deity?  If,  therefore,  the  sacrifices 
of  the  Jews  were  the  expiation  of  sin,  only  in 
figure  and  in  a  shadow,  if  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
Christ  be  their  body  and  reality,  does  it  not 
follow  that  Jesus  Christ  has  really  and  literally 
expiated  our  transgressions?  To  pretend  that 
the  Levitical  sacrifices  were  not  ottered  up  for 
the  expiation  of  great  oflences,  but  only  for 
certain  external  indecencies,  which  rather  pol- 
luted the  flesh,  than  wounded  the  conscience, 
is  an  altem|)t  to  maintain  one  error  by  another; 
for  a  man  has  only  to  open  his  eyes,  to  be  con- 
vinced that  the  Levitical  sacrifices  were  offered 
up  lor  otfences  the  most  atrocious;  it  is  need- 
less to  adduce  any  other  evidence  than  the  an- 
nual sacrifice  ])rescribed.  Lev.  xvi.  21,  22,  in 
the  ollering  of  which,  Aaron  "  laid  both  his 
hands  upon  the  head  of  the  live  goat,  and  con- 
fessed over  him  all  the  iniquities  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel,  and  all  their  transgressions  in 
all  their  sins  ....  and  the  goat  did  bear  upon 
him  all  their  iniquities." 

5.  In  a  fifth  class  must  bo  ranked  the  cir- 
cumstances of  tiie  passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
of  his  agony  in  the  garden;  that  sorrow,  those 
fears,  tliose  agitations,  those  cries,  those  tears, 
that  bloody  sweat,  those  bitter  complaints: 
"  My  God,  My  God,  whj  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?"  Matt.  xxvi.  46.  The  argument  derived 
from  this  will  appear  of  still  greater  weight, 
if  you  support  it  by  thus  reflecting,  that  no 
person  in  the  universe  ought  to  have  met 
death  with  so  much  joy  as  Jesus  Christ,  had 
he  suffered  a  mere  ordinary  death.  Christ 
died  with  a  perfect  submission  to  the  will  of 
his  father,  and  with  a  fervent  love  to  mankind. 
Christ  died  in  the  full  assurance  of  the  justice 
of  his  cause,  and  of  the  innocency  of  his  life. 
Christ  died  completely  persuaded  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  and  of  the  certainty  of 
a  life  to  come.  Christ  died  under  a  complete 
assurance  of  the  exalted  felicity  which  he  was 
to  enjoy  after  death.  He  had  come  from  God. 
He  was  returning  to  God.  Nay,  there  ought  to 
have  been  something  more  particular  in  his  tri- 
lunph,  than  in  that  of  the  generality  of  believ- 
ers. Because  he  had  "  made  himself  of  no 
reputation;"  God  was  about  "  to  give  him  a 
name  which  is  above  every  name."  A  cloud 
was  going  to  serve  him  as  a  triumphal  car, 
and  the  church  triumphant  was  preparing  to 
receive  him  with  acclamations  of  joy,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and.be  ye  lift  up, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory 
shall  come  in,"  Ps.  xxiv.  7. 

What  then,  arc  we  to  e.xpect  that  Jesus 
Christ  shall  do?  Shall  we  behold  him  advanc- 
ing to  meet  death  with  joy?  Shall  he  not  say 
with  St.  Paul,  "My  desire  is  to  depart'  Shall 
he  not  in  rapture  exclaim,  "  This  day  crowns 
are  to  be  distributed,  and  I  go  to  receive  my 
share?"  No,  Jesus  Christ  trembles,  he  turns 
pale,  he  fears,  he  sweats  great  drops  of  blood: 
whereas  the  martyrs,  with  inferior  illumina- 
tion, with  feebler  motives,  have  braved  death, 
have  bidden  defiance  to  the  most  horrid  tor- 
ments, have  filled  their  tormentors  with  aston- 
iâbment.  Whence  comes  this  difierence?  From 


232 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


[Seh.  LXXX. 


the  very  point  which  wo  are  endeavouring  to 
estabHsh.  The  deatli  of  Jesus  Christ  is  wide- 
ly dirtcrent  from  that  of  the  martyrs.  The 
martyrs  found  death  already  disarmed:  Jesus 
Christ  died  to  disarm  this  kinç  of  terrors.  Tlie 
martyrs  presented  themselves  jjelbre  the  throne 
of  grace;  Jesus  Christ  presented  himself  at  the 
tribunal  of  Justice.  The  martyrs  pleaded  the 
merits  of  Christ's  dealli:  Jesus  Christ  interced- 
ed in  beiialf  of  the  martyrs. 

Let  the  great  adversary,  then,  do  his  worst 
to  terrify  me  with  the  image  of  the  crimes 
which  1  have  committed;  let  him  trace  them 
before  my  eyes  in  the  blackest  characters 
whicii  his  malignity  can  employ;  let  him  col- 
lect into  «ne  dark  point,  all  that  is  hideous  and 
hateful  in  my  life;  let  him  attempt  to  over- 
whelm me  with  dismay,  by  rousing  the  idea  of 
that  tremendous  tribunal,  before  which  all  the 
actions  of  men  are  to  be  scrutinized,  so  that 
like  "  Joshua  the  high-priest,"'  I  find  myself 
standing  in  the  presence  of  God,  "  clothed 
with  filthy  garments,"  Zech.  iii.  1,  &c.  and 
Satan  standing  at  his  right  hand  to  expose  my 
turpitude;  I  hear,  at  the  same  time,  the  voice 
of  one  pleading  in  my  behalf:  I  hear  these  re- 
viving words:  "  is  not  tliis  a  brand  plucked 
out  of  the  fire?  ....  Take  away  the  filthy 
garments  from  him  ....  Let  them  set  a 
fair  mitre  upon  his  head  ....  and  I  will 
clothe  him  with  change  of  raiment." 


SERMON  LXXX. 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

PART    III. 


Hebrews  ii.  14,  15. 
Forasmuch  then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
fiesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took 
part  of  the  same;  that  through  death  he  might 
destroy  him  that  had  the  poiver  of  death,  that  is, 
the  devil;  and  deliver  them  xcho  through  fear 
of  death  were  all  their  life-time  siAject  to  bond- 
age. 

We  now  come  in  the 

III.  Third  and  last  place,  to  consider  death 
rendered  formidable,  from  its  being  attended 
with  the  loss  of  titles,  honours,  and  every  other 
earthly  possession,  and  in  opposition  to  this, 
we  are  to  view  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  as  re- 
moving that  terror,  by  giving  us  complete  as- 
surance of  a  blessed  eternity.  We  are  going 
to  contemplate  death  as  a  universal  shipwreck, 
swallowing  up  all  our  worldly  fortunes  and 
prospects.  We  are  going  to  contemplate  Je- 
sus Christ  as  a  conijueror,  and  his  death  as  the 
pledge  and  security  of  a  boundless  and  ever- 
lasting felicity,  which  shall  amply  compensate 
to  us  the  loss  of  all  those  possessions,  of  which 
we  are  about  to  bo  stripped  by  the  unsparing 
hand  of  death. 

Wlicn  wo  attempt  to  stammer  out  a  few 
words  from  the  pul[)it,  respecting  the  felicity 
whicli  (Jod  has  laid  up  for  his  people  in  ano- 
ther world,  we  b(jrrow  the  images  of  every 
thing  that  is  capable  of  touching  the  heart,  and 
of  communicating  delight.  Wo  call  in  to  our 
assistance  the  soul  of  man,  with  all  its  exalted 
faculties;  the  body,  with  all  its  beautiful  forms 


and  proportions;  nature,  with  her  overflowing 
treasures;  society,  with  its  enchanting  delights; 
the  church,  with  its  triumphs;  eternity,  with 
its  unfathomable  abysses  of  joy.  Of  all  these 
ingredients  blended,  we  compose  a  faint  repre- 
sentation of  the  celestial  blessedness. 

The  soul  of  man  constitutes  one  ingredient, 
and  we  say.  In  heaven  your  soul  shall  arrive 
at  its  highest  pitch  of  attainable  perfection:  it 
shall  ac()uire  expansive  illumination,  it  shall 
reach  sublime  heights  of  virtue,  it  shall  "  be- 
hold as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and 
shall  be  changed  into  the  same  image,  from 
glory  to  glory,"  2  Cor.  iii.  18. 

The  body  furnishes  a  second  ingredient,  and 
we  say.  In  heaven  your  body  shall  be  exempted 
from  all  the  defects  by  which  it  is  at  present 
disfigured,  from  those  diseases  which  now  prey 
upon  and  waste  it,  from  that  death  which  de- 
stroys the  fabric. 

Nature  supplies  a  third  ingredient,  and  we 
say.  In  heaven  all  the  stores  of  Nature  shall 
be  displayed  in  rich  profusion:  "  the  founda- 
tions of  the  holy  city  are  of  jasper,  its  gales 
are  of  pearl,  its  walls  are  of  pure  gold,"  Rev. 
xxi.  21. 

Society  supplies  a  fourth  ingredient,  and  we 
say,  In  heaven  shall  be  united,  in  the  tender- 
est  social  bonds,  kindred  spirits  the  most  exalt- 
ed; souls  the  most  refined;  hearts  the  most 
generous  and  enlarged. 

The  church  supplies  a  fifth  ingredient,  and 
we  say.  In  heaven  shall  be  exhibited  the  tri- 
umph of  the  faithful  over  tyrants  confounded, 
the  saints  shall  be  enthroned,  the  martyrs  shall 
appear  with  palms  in  their  hands,  and  with 
crowns  upon  their  heads. 

Eternity  supplies  a  sixth  ingredient,  and  we 
say,  In  heaven  you  shall  enjoy  a  felicity  infi- 
nite in  its  duration,  and  immeasurable  in  its 
degree;  years  accumulated  upon  years,  ages 
upon  ages,  shall  eflect  no  diminution  of  its 
length:  and  so  of  the  rest. 

This  day.  Christians,  in  which  we  are  rep- 
resenting death  to  you  as  a  universal  wreck 
which  swallows  up  all  your  possessions,  your 
titles,  your  greatness,  your  riches,  your  social 
connexions,  all  that  you  were,  and  all  that  you 
hoped  to  be;  this  day,  while  we  are  attempt- 
ing to  convey  to  you  an  idea  of  the  celestial 
felicity,  capable  of  strengthening  you  to  be- 
hold, without  dismay,  this  universal  wreck,  in 
which  you  are  going  to  be  involved;  this  day 
we  could  wish  you  to  conceive  the  heavenly 
world,  and  the  blessedness  which  God  is  there 
preparing  for  you  untier  another  idea.  We 
mean  to  trace  another  view  of  it,  the  lustre  of 
which  eflaces  all  the  rest.  Wo  build  upon 
this  foundation  of  St  Paul:  "  He  that  spared 
not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us 
all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give 
us  all  things?"  Rom.  viii.  32.  The  heavenly 
blessedness  is  the  purchase  of  the  death  of  Je- 
sus Christ.  Here  collect,  my  brethren,  every 
thing  that  is  capable  of  enhancing  to  your  ap- 
prehension the  unspeakable  greatness  and  im- 
portance of  that  death. 

View  the  death  of  Christ  relatively  to  the 
types  which  prefigured  it;  relatively  to  the  sha- 
dows by  which  it  was  adumbrated;  relatively 
to  the  ceremonies  by  which  it  was  reprosent- 
od)  relatively  to  tho  oracles  which  predicted  it. 


Ser.  LXXX.] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


233 


View  the  death  of  Christ  relatively  to  the  l  sent  illusion  to  the  eye?    Will  you  still  main- 
tempests  and  thunderbolts  which  were  levelled  j  tain  your  ground  against  those  solid  blessings 


at  the  head  of  the  Redeemer.  Ecliold  his 
soul  overwliclnied  with  sorrow;  belioid  that 
blood  falling  down  to  the  ground;  that  cup  of 
bitterness  wiiicii  was  given  hini  to  drinit; 
hearken  to  that  insulting  language,  to  those 
calumnies,  to  those  false  accusations,  to  that 
unjust  sentence  of  condemnation;  behold  those 
hands  and  feet  pierced  with  nails,  that  siicred 
body  s[)cudily  reduced  to  one  gliaslly  wound; 
behold  that  licentious  rabble  clamorously  de- 
manding tlie  punislnnent  of  the  cross,  and  in- 
creasing the  horror  of  it  by  every  indignity 
which  malice  could  invent;  look  up  to  heaven 
itself,  and  bciiold  the  eternal  Father  abandon- 
ing the  Son  of  his  love  to  so  many  woes;  be- 
hold hell  in  concert  with  heaven,  and  heaven 
with  the  earth. 

View  the  death  of  Christ  relatively  to  the 
dreadful  signs  by  which  it  was  accompanied; 
relatively  to  that  eartii  seized  with  trembling, 
to  that  sun  shrouded  in  darkness,  to  tliose 
rocks  rent  asunder,  to  those  opening  graves, 
to  those  departed  saints  returning  to  the  liglit 
of  day. 

View  the  death  of  Christ  relatively  to  the 
greatness  of  God,  and  to  the  littleness  of  man, 
in  whoso  behalf  all  this  bloody  scene  was 
transacted. 

Collect  all  these  various  particulars,  and 
still  say  to  yourself.  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ 
is  all  this.  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
body  of  tlie  figures,  the  original  of  the  types, 
the  reality  of  the  shadows,  tlie  acconi[)lishment 
of  the  prophecies.  The  death  of  Jesus  Christ 
is  that  great  event  which  darkened  the  sun, 
which  opened  the  tombs,  which  rent  asunder 
the  rocks,  which  made  the  earth  to  tremble, 
which  turned  nature  and  tlie  elements  upside 
down.  Follow  up  these  reflections,  and  on 
these  let  your  imagination  settle. 

The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  conceived  thus, 
apply  it  to  the  subject  which  we  are  treating. 
The  death  of  Jesus  Christ  conceived  tlius,  let 
it  servo  to  assist  you  in  forming  an  idea  of  the 
heavenly  blessedness.  Still  build  on  this 
foundation  of  St.  Paul;  say  with  that  apostle, 
"  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered 
him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him 
also  freely  give  us  all  things?"  You  regret  the 
world;  you  who  are  advancirfg  on  your  way 
heavenward.  And  what  is  heaven?  It  is  the 
purchase  of  Christ's  death.  "He  that  spared 
not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us 
all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give 
us  all  things?"  If  the  means  be  thus  great, 
what  must  tiio  end  be!  If  the  preparatives  be 
thus  magnificent,  what  must  be  the  issue!  If 
the  conflict  be  thus  sharp,  what  must  be  the 
victory!  If  the  price  be  thus  costly,  what,  O 
what,  shall  be  the'  bliss  which  this  price  is  in- 
tended to  purchase. 

After  that,  my  brethren,  return  to  the 
world. — What  is  it  you  regret'  Are  you  re- 
gretting t!»e  loss  of  palaces,  of  sceptres,  of 
crowns?  It  is  to  regret  the  humble  crook  in 
your  hand,  the  cottage  which  covers  your 
head.  Do  you  regret  the  loss  of  society,  a 
society  whose  defects  and  whose  deliglils  are 
frequently  an  equal  source  of  misery  to  you? 
Ah!  phantom  of  vain  desire,  will  you  still  pre- 
VoL.  II.— 30 


which  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  has  purchased 
for  us?  Ah!  "  broken  cisterns,"  will  you  still 
preserve  a  preference  in  our  esteem  to  "  the 
fountain  of  living  waters?"  Ah!  great  High 
Priest  of  the  new  covenant,  shall  we  still  find 
it  painfully  diflicult  to  follow  thee,  whilst  thou 
art  conducting  us  to  heavenly  places,  by  the 
bloody  traces  of  thy  cross  and  martyrdom. 
Jesus  Christ  is  a  "conqueror,"  who  has  ac- 
tjuired  for  us  a  kingdom  of  glory  and  felicity; 
his  death  is  an  invaluable  pledge  of  a  trium- 
phant eternity. 

Death,  then,  has  nothing,  henceforward, 
that  is  formidable  to  the  Christian.  In  the 
tomb  of  Jesus  Christ  are  dissipated  all  the  ter- 
rors which  the  tomb  of  nature  presents.  In 
the  tomb  of  nature  I  perceive  a  gloomy  night, 
which  the  eye  is  unable  to  penetrate;  in  the 
tomb  of  Jesus  Christ  I  behold  light  and  life. 
In  the  tomb  of  nature  the  punislnnent  of  sin 
stares  me  in  the  face;  in  the  tomb  of  Jesua 
Christ  I  find  the  e.vpiation  of  it.  In  the  tomb 
of  nature  I  read  the  fearful  doom  pronounced 
upon  Adam,  and  upon  all  his  miserable  posteri- 
ty: "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou 
return,"  Gen.  iii.  19;  but  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus 
Christ  my  tongue  is  loosed  into  this  triumphant 
song  of  praise,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  ....  Thanks 
be  to  God  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  1  Cor.  .\v.  55.  67. 
"Through  death  he  has  destroyed  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil; 
that  ho  might  deliver  them  who  through  fear 
of  death  were  all  their  life-time  subject  to 
bondage." 

THE  APPLICATION. 

But  if  these  be  our  privileges,  is  it  not  mat- 
ter of  reproach  to  us,  my  brethren,  that 
brought  up  in  the  knowledge  and  profession 
of  a  religion  which  furnishes  arms  so  powerful 
for  combating  the  terrors  of  death,  we  should 
still,  for  the  most  part,  view  it  only  with  fear 
and  trembling?  Tlie  fact  is  too  evident  to  be 
denied.  From  the  slightest  study  of  by  far  the 
greatest  part  of  professing  Christians,  it  is 
clearly  apparent  tliat  they  consider  death  as 
the  greatest  of  all  calamities.  And  with  a 
very  slender  experience  of  the  state  of  dying 
persons,  it  will  be  found  that  there  are  few, 
very  few  indeed,  who  die  without  regret,  few 
but  who  have  need  to  exercise  all  their  sub- 
mission, at  a  season  when  it  might  be  expected 
they  should  give  themselves  up  to  transports 
of  joy.  A  vapour  in  tlie  head  disconcerts  us; 
we  are  alarmed  if  the  artery  happens  to  beat 
a  little  faster  than  usual;  the  least  apprehen- 
sion of  death  inspires  us  with  an  unaccounta- 
ble melancholy,  and  oppressive  dejection. 

But  those  apprehensions  and  terrors,  my 
brethren,  surprising  as  tliey  may  appear  to  us, 
have  nothing  which  ought  really  to  fill  us 
with  surprise.  If  to  apply  to  a  man's  self  the 
fruits  of  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  were  a  sim- 
ple act  of  the  understanding,  a  simple  move- 
ment of  the  heart,  a  simple  acknowledgment 
of  the  tongue;  if  to  apply  to  a  man's  self  the 
fruits  of  the  death  of  Christ  were  nothing  more 
tliaii  what  a  hardened  sinner  is  capable  of 


234 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


[Ser.  LXXX. 


figuring  to  himself,  or  than  what  is  proscribed 
to  him  by  an  accommodating  casuist,  you 
would  not  see  a  single  Christian  afraid  of  death. 
But  you  know  it  well,  the  gospel  as.sures  you 
of  it,  and  the  dictates  of  your  own  conscience 
confirm  the  truth,  to  make  application  of  the 
fruits  of  Christ's  death  is  a  complication  of  du- 
ties, which  require  attention,  time,  labour,  in- 
tensencss  of  exertion,  and  must  be  the  business 
of  a  whole  life.  The  greatest  part  of  those 
who  bear  the  Christian  name,  neglect  this 
work  while  in  health;  is  it  any  wonder  tliat 
they  should  tremble  when  overtaken  by  llie 
hour  of  death? 

Call  to  remembrance  the  three  ways  in 
which  Clirist  has  disarmed  death.  He  has 
spoiled  the  king  of  terrors,  by  demonstrating 
to  us  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  by  making 
atonement  for  our  transgressions,  by  acquiring 
for  us  an  eternal  felicity. 

But  what  effect  will  the  death  of  Christ 
have  upon  us,  as  a  proof  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  unless  we  study  those 
proofs,  unless  'we  seriously  meditate  upon 
them,  unless  we  endeavour  to  feel  their  force, 
unless  we  guard  against  the  difficulties  which 
the  unhappy  age  we  live  iu  opposes  to  those 
great  princi[)les? 

What  effect  can  the  death  of  Christ  have 
upon  us,  as  a  sacrifice  offered  up  to  divine  jus- 
tice for  our  sins,  unless  we  feel  the  plenitude 
of  that  sacrifice,  unless  we  make  application  of 
it  to  the  conscience,  unless  we  present  it  to 
God  in  the  exercises  of  a  living  faith;  above 
all,  unless  by  the  constant  study  of  ourselves, 
unless  by  unremitting,  by  persevering  exer- 
tion, we  place  ourselves  under  the  terms,  and 
invest  ourselves  with  the  cliaracters  of  those 
who  have  a  right  to  apply  to  themselves  the 
fruits  of  this  sacrifice? 

What  effect  can  the  death  of  Christ  produce 
upon  us,  considered  as  the  pledge  of  a  blessed 
eternity,  unless  the  soul  be  powerfully  im- 
pressed with  that  eternity,  unless  the  heart  be 
penetrated  with  a  sense  of  what  it  is;  if  we 
are  at  pains  to  efface  tlie  impression  which 
those  interesting  objects  may  liave  made  upon 
us;  if  hardly  moved  by  those  great  truths 
which  ought  to  take  entire  possession  of  the 
mind,  we  instantly  plunge  ourselves  into  the 
vortex  of  worldly  pursuits,  witliout  taking  time 
to  avail  ourselves  of  that  happy  disposition, 
and,  as  it  were,  purposely  to  withdraw  from 
those  gracious  emotions  which  seemed  to  have 
laid  hold  of  ua'  Ah!  my  brethren,  if  such  be 
the  conduct  of  the  generality  of  professing 
Christians,  as  we  are  under  the  necessity  of 
admitting,  when,  not  satisfied  with  observing 
their  deportment  in  the  house  of  God,  and 
from  a  pulpit,  we  follow  them  into  life,  and 
look  through  those  fiimsy  veils  of  piety  and 
devotion  which  they  had  assun)ed  for  an  hour 
in  a  worsliipping  assembly;  if  such,  I  say,  be 
the  conduct  of  the  generality  of  professing 
Christians,  tiieir  terror  at  the  a])proach  of  death 
exhibits  nothing  to  excite  astonishment. 

The  grand  conclusion  to  be  deduced,  my 
brethren,  from  all  these  refiections,  is  not  an 
abstract  conclusion  and  of  difficult  comprehen- 
sion: it  is  a  conclusion  easy,  natural,  and 
which  would  spontaneously  present  itself  to 
the  mind,  were  wo  not  disposed  to  practise  de- 


ception upon  ourselves;  the  grand  conclusion 
to  be  deduced  from  these  reflections  is  this:  If 
wo  wish  to  die  like  Christians,  we  must  live 
like  Christians.  If  we  would  wish  to  behold 
with  firmness  the  dissolution  of  this  body,  we 
must  study  the  proofs  which  establish  the 
truth  of  the  inunortality  of  the  soul,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  say  with  St.  Paul,  "  I  know  whom 
I  have  believed,  and  1  am  persuaded  he  is  able 
to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed  unto 
him  against  that  day,"  2  Tim.  i.  12.  Would 
we  wish  to  have  a  security  against  fear  at  that 
tremendous  tribunal,  before  which  we  must 
appear  to  receive  judgment,  we  must  enter 
into  the  conditions  of  the  covenant  of  grace, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  say  with  the  same 
apostle,  "I  am  the  chief  of  siimers,  a  blasphe- 
mer, and  a  persecutor,  and  injurious;  but  I 
obtained  mercy,"  1  Tim.  i.  13.  Would  we  be 
strengthened  to  resign,  without  murmuring, 
all  the  objects  around  us,  and  to  which  we  are 
so  fondly  attached,  we  must  learn  to  disengage 
ourselves  from  them  betimes;  to  place  our 
heart  betimes  where  onr  treasure  is,  Matt.  vi. 
21,  that  we  may  be  able  to  say  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee? 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  be- 
sides thee,"  Ps.  Ixxiii.  25. 

If  after  we  have  exerted  our  utmost  efforts, 
we  still  find  our  frail  flesh  and  blood  com- 
plaining at  the  prospect  of  approaching  disso- 
lution; if  the  heart  still  repines  at  the  hard 
necessity  imposed  upon  us  of  dying;  let  us 
strive  to  recover  confidence,  not  only  against 
this  apprehension,  but  likewise  against  the 
doubts  which  it  might  e.xcite  against  our  sal- 
vation. This  fear  of  death  is,  in  such  a  case, 
not  a  crime,  but  an  infirmity.  It  is  indeed  a 
melancholy  proof  that  we  are  not  yet  perfect, 
but  it  is  not  a  blot  which  obliterates  our  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  an  expression  of  timidity,  not  of 
mistrust.  It  is  a  calamity  which  prevents  our 
enjoying  all  the  sweets  of  a  triumphant  death, 
but  not  an  obstacle  to  prevent  our  dying  in 
safety.  Let  us  be  of  good  courage.  What 
have  we  to  fear?  God  is  an  affectionate  friend, 
who  will  not  desert  us  in  the  hour  of  adversity. 
God  is  not  a  cruel  being,  who  takes  pleasure 
in  rendering  us  miserable.  He  is  a  God 
whose  leading  characters  are  goodness  and 
mercy.  He  stands  engaged  to  render  us  hap- 
py. Let  us  not  distrust  his  promise;  it  has 
been  ratified  by  t!ie  most  august  zeal  which 
suspicion  itself  could  exact,  b\-  the  blood  of  the 
spotless  Lamb,  which  is  sprinkled,  not  on  the 
threshold  of  our  doors,  but  on  our  inmost  con- 
science. Tlie  exterminating  angel  will  re- 
spect that  blood,  will  presume  to  aim  no  stroke 
at  the  soul  which  bears  the  mark  of  it. 

Atler  all,  my  dearly  beloved  bretliren,  if 
the  most  advanced  Christians,  at  the  first 
glimpse  of  death,  and  in  the  first  moments  of  a 
mortal  distemper,  are  unable  to  screeti  them- 
selves from  the  fear  of  deatii;  if  the  flesh  mur- 
murs, if  nature  complains,  if  faith  itself  seems 
to  stagger;  reason,  religion,  but  especially  the 
aid  of  God's  spirit,  granted  to  the  prayers,  to 
the  importunities  a.siending  to  heaven  from 
the  lips  of  such  a  ('hristian,  dissipate  all  those 
terrors.  The  mii^lily  God  suflers  himself  to 
be  overcome,  when  assailed  by  supplication 
and  tears.     God  resists  not  the  sighs  of  a  be- 


Ser.  LXXX.] 


ON  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 


235 


liever,  who  from  his  bed  of  languishing  strclclies 
out  his  arms  towards  him,  who  entreats  him  to 
sanctify  tlie  sutVcrings  wliich  he  endures,  wlio 
implores  his  support  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
who  cries  out  from  the  centre  of  a  soul  trans- 

forted  with  holy  confidence,  "  Into  tliine  hand 
commit  my  spirit:  tiiou  hast  redeemed  me, 
O  Lord  God  of  truth,"  Ps.  xxxi.  5.  Receive 
it,  O  my  God.  Remove  from  me  those  piian- 
toms  wiiich  disturb  my  repose.  Raise  mo  u]), 
take  mo  to  thyself  "  Teacii  my  hands  to  war, 
and  my  fingers  to  fight.  Draw  me,  I  sliall 
run  after  thee."  Kindle  my  devotion;  and  let 
my  inflamed  desires  serve  as  a  chariot  of  fire 
to  transport  me  to  heaven.  The  clouds,  thick- 
ened around  me  by  "  Ilim  wlio  liad  tiie  power 
of  death,"  are  scattering;  the  veil  which  cov- 
ered eternity  insensibly  withdraws;  the  under- 
standing is  convinced;  the  heart  melts;  tiio 
flamo  of  love  bums  brigiit;  the  return  of  holy 
meditations,  which  formerly  occupied  the  soul, 
disclose  the  grand  object  of  religion,  and  the 


bed  of  death  is  transformed  into  a  field  of  vic- 
tory. Many  of  your  pastors,  Christians,  have 
been  the  joyful  spectators  of  such  a  triumph. 

May  all  who  hear  me  tiiis  day  be  partakers 
of  tlieso  divine  consolations!  May  that  in- 
valuable sacrifice  which  Jesus  Christ  offered 
up  to  his  father  in  our  behalf,  i)y  cleansing  us 
from  all  our  guilt,  deliver  us  from  all  our  fears! 
May  tiiis  great  High  Priest  of  tiie  new  covenant 
i)ear  engraven  on  his  breast  all  these  mystical 
Israelites,  now  that  ho  is  entered  into  the 
holiest  of  all!  And  when  tiiese  fotmdations  of 
sand,  on  which  this  clay  tabernacle  nists,  shall 
crumble  away  from  under  our  feet,  may  we  all 
be  cnaldcd  to  raise  our  departing  spirits  out  of 
the  ruins  of  tiie  world,  that  they  may  repose 
in  the  mansions  of  immortality!  Hapjiy,  beyond 
exjiression,  beyond  conception  happy,  to  die 
in  such  sentiments  as  these!  God  of  his  in- 
finite mercy  grant  it  may  be  our  blessed  attain- 
ment! To  him  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever. 
Amen 


8ERIIIONS 


REV.    JAMES   SAURIN, 


TRANSLATED 


BY  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  SUTCLIFFE. 


PREFACE, 

BY  THE  REV.  JOSEPH  SUTCLIFFE. 


Saurin's  Sermoms,  ono  hundred  and  sixty- 
oiujlit  in  number,  arc  comprised  in  twelve  vo- 
lumes. I  have  read  them  with  edihcalion  and 
deli<fht.  Actuated  by  these  sentiments,  I 
doubted  whetlier  I  could  better  employ  my 
leisure  moments  than  in  preparing  an  additional 
volume,  to  tliose  already  before  tlio  Englisii 
reader. 

The  three  Discourses  on  tlie  Delay  of  Con- 
version, are  a  masterly  performance,  and  in 
general,  a  model  of  pulpit  eloquence.  They 
are  not  less  distinguished  by  variety  and 
strength  of  argument,  than  by  pathos  and  unc- 
tion: and  they  rise  in  excellence  as  the  reader 
proceeds.  Hence,  I  fully  concur  in  opinion 
with  Dupont,  and  tire  succeeding  editors,  who 
have  given  the  first  j)lace  to  these  Discourses: 
my  solo  surprise  is,  that  they  were  not  trans- 
lated before.  Whether  they  were  reserved  to 
ornament  a  future  volume,  or  whether  the  ad- 
dresses to  the  unregenerate  were  deemed  too 
severe  and  strong,  1  am  unable  to  determine. 
By  a  cloud  of  arguments  derived  from  reason, 
from  revelation,  and  from  experience,  our  au- 
thor certainly  displays  the  full  etl'usions  of  his 
heart,  and  in  language  unfettered  by  the  fear 
of  man.  The  regular  applications  in  the  first 
and  second  Sermons,  are  executed  in  such  a 
style  of  superior  merit,  that  I  lament  the  defi- 
ciency of  language  to  convey  his  sentiments 
with  adequate  effect. 

On  the  subject  of  warm  and  animated  ad- 
dresses to  wicked  and  unregenerate  men,  if  I 
might  be  heard  by  those  who  fill  the  sanctuary, 
1  would  venture  to  say,  that  the  general  cha- 
racter of  English  sermons  is  by  far  too  mild 
and  calm.  On  reading  tlie  late  Dr.  Enfield's 
English  Preacher,  and  finding  on  this  gentle- 
man's tablet  of  honoui ,  names  which  constitute 
the  glory  of  our  national  church,  I  seem  un- 
willing to  believe  my  senses,  and  ready  to  deny, 
that  Tillotson,  Atterbury,  Butler,  Chandler, 
Coneybeare,  Seed,  Sherlock,  Waterland,  and 
others,  could  have  been  so  relaxed  and  un- 
guarded as  to  have  preached  so  many  sermons 
equally  acceptable  to  the  orthodox  and  the 
Socinian  reader.  Those  mild  and  affable  re- 
commendations of  virtue  and  religion;  those 
gentle  dissuasives  from  immorality  and  vice, 
have  been  found,  .'  -  a  whole  century,  unpro- 
ductive of  effect.  Hence,  all  judicious  men 
must  admit  the  propriety  of  meeting  the  awful 
vices  of  tlie  present  age  with  remedies  more 
efficient  and  strong. 

Our  increase  of  population,  our  vast  extent 
of  commerce,  and  the  consequent  influx  of 
wealth  and  luxury,  have,  to  an  alarming  de- 
gree, biassed  the  national  character  towards 
dissipation,  irreligion,  and  vice.  We  see  a 
crowd  of  families  rapidly  advanced  to  afflu- 
ence, and  dashing  away  in  the  circles  of  gay 
and  giddy  life;  we  see  profane  theatres,  assem- 
bly-rooms, and  watering-places,  crowded  with 
people  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  unacquainted 


with  the  duties  they  owe  to  God;  we  sec  a  me- 
tropolis, in  which  it  is  estimated  that  not  more 
than  one  adult  out  of  fifteen  attends  any  place 
of  divine  worship.  Ought  not  ministers  so  cir- 
cumstanced, to  take  the  alarm,  and  to  weep 
for  the  desolations  of  the  sanctuary.'  If  impiety 
and  efleminacy  were,  confessedly,  the  causes 
of  the  desolation  of  Greece  and  Rome,  ought 
we  not  to  be  peculiarly  alarmed  for  our  coun- 
try? and  while  our  brave  warriors  are  defend- 
ing it  abroad,  endeavour  to  heal  at  home  the 
evils  which  corrode  the  vitals.'  Ought  we  not 
to  adopt  a  mode  of  preaching  like  that  which 
first  subdued  the  enemies  of  the  cross?  If  our 
former  mode  of  preaching  has  failed  of  effect; 
if  the  usual  arguments  from  Scripture  have  no 
weight;  ougiit  we  not  to  modify  those  argu- 
ments according  to  existing  circumstance», 
that,  fighting  the  sinner  on  the  ground  of 
reason,  and  maintaining  the  rights  of  God  at 
the  bar  of  conscience,  we  may  vanquish  the 
infidelity  "f  his  heart'  The  wound  must  be 
opened  before  he  will  welcome  the  balm  of 
Calvary,  and  be  enraptured  with  tiie  glory  and 
fulness  of  the  gospel.  Hence,  I  am  fully  of 
opinion  that  we  ought  to  go  back  to  the  purest 
models  of  preaching;  that  addressing  the  sinner 
in  the  striking  language  of  his  own  heart,  we 
may  sec  our  country  reformed,  and  believers 
adorned  with  virtue  and  grace. 

But,  though  our  author  be  an  eminent  model 
in  addressing  the  unregenerate,  he  is  by  no 
means  explicit  and  full  on  the  doctrines  of  the 
Spirit:  his  talents  were  consequently  defective 
in  building  up  believers,  and  edifying  the 
church.  It  is  true,  he  is  orthodox  and  clear, 
as  far  as  he  goes:  and  he  fully  admits  the 
Scripture  language  on  the  doctrine  of  assu- 
rance; but  he  restricts  the  grace  to  some  high- 
ly favoured  souls,  and  seems  to  have  no  idea  of 
its  being  the  general  privilege  of  the  childrea 
of  God.  Hence  this  doctrine  which  especially 
abounds  in  the  New  Testament,  occupies  only 
a  diminutive  place  in  his  vast  course  of  Ser- 
mons. On  this  subject,  indeed,  he  frankly  con- 
fesses his  fears  of  entlutsiasm  ;  and,  to  do  him 
justice,  it  seems  the  only  thing  he  feared  in 
tlie  pulpit. 

But,  however  prepossessing  and  laudable  this 
caution  may  appear  in  the  discussion  of  mys- 
terious truths,  it  by  no  means  associates  the 
ideas  we  have  of  the  divine  compassion,  and 
the  apprehensions  which  awakened  persons 
entertain  on  account  of  their  sins.  Conscious 
of  guilt  on  the  one  hand,  and  assured  on  the 
other  that  the  ipan-es  nf  sin  is  death,  mere  evan- 
gelical arguments  are  inadequate  to  allay  their 
fears,  and  assuage  their  griefs.  Nothing  will 
do  but  a  sense  of  pardon,  sufficiently  clear  and 
strong  to  counteract  their  sense  of  guilt.  No- 
thing but  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  the 
heart,  can  disperse  their  grief  and  fear,  Rom. 
V.  5;  Luke  xxiv.  32;  1  John  iv.  IS.  Nothing 
but  the  Spirit  of  adoption  can  remove  the  spirit 


240 


PREFACE  BY  THE  REV.  J.  SUTCLIFFE. 


of  bondage,  by  a  direct  assurance  that  wo  are 
the  children  of  God,  Rom.  viii.  15,  16.     Every 
awakened  sinner  needs,  as  much  as  tlie  inspired 
prophet,  the  peace  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing, to  compose  his  conscience;  the  Spirit 
of  holiness  to  regenerate  his  heart;  the  Spirit  of 
grace  and  supplication,  to  assist  him  in  prayer; 
the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth  knowledge, 
and  the  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  to 
adopt  the  language  of  praise  and  thanksgiving, 
which  seem  to  have  been  the  general  senti- 
ments of  the  regenerate  in  acts  of  devotion. 
That  is  the  most  satisfactory  ground  of  assu- 
rance, when  we  hope  to  enjoy  the  inheritance, 
because  we   have   the   earnest;   and   hope  to 
dwell   with    God,  because  he  already  dwells 
with  us,  adorning  our  piety  with  tiie  corres- 
pondent  fruits  of  righteousness.     Revelation 
and  reason  here  perfectly  accord:  »4sfc,  and  ye 
shall  receive;  seek,    and  ye  shall  find.     If  ye 
being  evil,  know  how   to  give  good  things  to 
your  children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Fa- 
ther, which  is  in  heaven,  give  good  things  to 
them  that  ask  him.     Hence,  Saurin,  on  this 
subject,  was  by  far  too  contracted  in  restricting 
this  grace  to  a  few  highly  favoured  souls. 

Farther  still,  it  is  not  enough  for  a  minister 
to  beat  and  overpower  his  audience  with  argu- 
ments; it  is  not  enough  tljat  many  of  his  hear- 
ers weep  under  the  word,  and  form  good  reso- 
lutions for  the  future;  they  must  be  encou- 
raged to  exjject  a  blessing  before  they  depart 
from  the  house  of  God.  How  is  it  that  the 
good  impressions,  made  on  our  hearers,  so  ge- 
nerally die  away;  tliat  their  devotion  is  but  as 
the  morning  cloud?  After  making  just  de- 
ductions for  the  weakness  and  inconstancy  of 
men;  after  allowing  for  the  defects  which  bu- 
siness and  company  produce  on  the  mind,  the 
grand  cause  is,  the  not  exhorting  them  to  look 
for  an  instantaneous  deliverance  by  faith.  Jn 
many  parts  of  the  Scriptures,  and  es])ecially  in 
the  I'salms,  the  supplicants  came  to  the  throne 
of  grace  in  the  greatest  trouble  and  distress,  and 
they  went  away  rejoicing.  Now,  these  Psalms 
I  take  to  be  exact  celebrations  of  wiiat  God  did 
by  providence  and  grace  for  his  worshii)pers. 
Hence  we  should  e.xhort  all  penitents  to  e.xpect 
the  like  deliverance,  God  being  ready  to  shine 
on  all  hearts  the  moment  repentance  has  pre- 
pared them  for  the  reception  of  his  grace. 

Some  may  here  object  that  many  well-dis- 
posed Christians,  whose  piety  has  been  adorn- 
ed with  benevolence,  have  never,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  assurance,  been  able  to  express  them- 
selves in  the  high  and  heavenly  language  of 
inspired  men;  and  that  tliey  have  doubted, 
whether  the  knotrledge  of  salvation  by  the  remis- 
sion of  sins,  Luke  i.  TÎ,  were  attaiiialilo  in  this 
life.  Perhaps,  on  in(iuiry,  those  well-disposed 
Christians,  whoso  sincerity  I  revere,  have  sat 
under  a  ministry,  which  scarcely  went  so  far 
on  the  doctrines  of  the  spirit  as  Sauuin.  Per- 
haps they  have  sought  salvation,  partly  by 
their  works,  instead  of  seeking  it  solely  by 
faith  in  th(!  merits,  or  righteousness,  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Perhaps  tiiey  have  joined  approaches 
to  the  altars  of  God,  with  the  aiimsements  of 
the  age;  and  always  been  kept  in  arrears  in 


their  reckonings  with  Heaven.  Perhaps  their 
religious  connexions  have  hindered,  rather  than 
furthered,  their  religious  attainments.  If  these 
sincere  Christians  were  properly  assisted  by 
experienced  people;  if  some  ^^quila  and  Pri»- 
cilla  were  to  expound  unto  them  the  way  of  God 
more  perfectly.  Acts  xviii.  26,  they  would 
soon  emerge  out  of  darkness  into  marvellous 
light;  they  could  not  long  survey  the  history 
of  tiie  Redeemer's  passion,  witliout  loving  him 
again:  they  could  not  review  his  victories 
without  encouragement;  they  could  not  con- 
template the  effusions  of  his  grace,  without  a 
participation  of  his  comfort.  They  would  soon 
receive 

"  What  nothing;  earthly  giTC»,  or  can  destroy, 
The  soul's  calm  sunshine,  and  Ihe  heart-felt  joy." 

Another  defect  of  our  author  (rf  my  opinion 
be  correct,)  is,  that  he  sometimes  aims  at  ora- 
torical strokes,  and  indulges  in  argument  and 
language  not  readily  comprehended  by  the  bet- 
ter instructed  among  the  poor.  This  should 
caution  others.  True  eloquence  is  the  voice  of 
nature,  so  rich  in  thought,  so  abundant  in  mo- 
tives, and  happy  in  expression,  as  to  supersede 
redundant  and  meretricious  ornament.  It  un- 
folds the  treasures  of  knowledge,  displays  the 
amiableness  of  virtue,  and  unveils  the  defor- 
mity of  vice,  with  the  utmost  simplicity  and 
ease.  It  captivates  the  mind,  and  sways  the 
passions  of  an  audience  in  addresses  apparently 
destitute  of  study  or  art:  art,  indeed,  can  never 
attain  it;  it  is  tlie  soul  of  a  preacher  speaking 
to  the  heart  of  his  hearers.  However,  SAiRrN" 
ought  to  have  an  indulgence  which  scarcely 
any  other  can  claim.  He  addressed  at  the 
Hague  an  audience  of  two  thousand  persons, 
composed  of  courtiers,  of  magistrates,  of  mer- 
chants, and  strangers,  who  were  driven  by  per- 
secution from  every  jiart  of  France.  Hence 
it  becmue  him  to  speak  with  dignity  a[)propri- 
ate  to  his  situation.  And  if,  in  point  of  pure 
eloquence  he  was  a  single  shade  below  IVIas- 
sillon,  he  has  far  exceeded  him  as  a  divine. 

AVitli  regard  to  the  peculiar  opinions  of  the 
religious  denominations,  this  venerable  minis- 
ter discovered  superior  knowledge,  and  admi- 
rable moderation.  Commissioned  to  preach 
the  gospel  to  every  creature,  he  magnifies  the 
love  of  God  to  man;  and  charges  the  sinner 
with  being  the  sole  cause  of  his  own  destruc- 
tion (Sermon,  Hosea  xiii.  9.)  Though  he  as- 
serts the  perseverance  of  the  saitits,  it  i.s,  never- 
theless, with  such  restrictions  as  tend  to  avoid 
disgusting  persons  of  opposite  sentiments. 
Against  Antinomianism,  so  dangerous  to  salva- 
tion, ho  is  tremendously  severe:  and  it  were 
to  be  wished  that  the  stii»i)orters  of  these  opi- 
nions would  profit  by  his  arginnents.  It  is 
much  safer  to  direct  our  etlbrts,  that  our 
hearers  may  resemble  the  God  they  worship, 
than  trust  to  a  mere  code  of  religious  opinions, 
dissonant  to  a  multitude  of  Scriptures. 

May  Heaven  bless  to  the  reader  this  addi- 
tional mite  to  the  store  of  public  knowledge, 
and  make  it  advantageous  to  his  best  interests, 
and  eternal  joy! 

JOSEPH  SUTCLIFFE. 
Halifax,  J\rov.  21,  1805. 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


241 


SERMON  LXXXI. 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 

PART  I. 


IsviAii  Iv.  6. 

Seek  ye  the  I^rd,  while  he  may  he  found,  call  ye 

upmi  him  while  he  is  near. 

That  is  a  singular  oath,  recorded  in  the  tenth 
chapter  of  the  Revelation.  St.  John  saw  an 
angel;  an  angel  "  clothed  with  a  cloud;  a  rain- 
bow encircled  his  head,  his  countenance  was  as 
the  sun,  and  his  feet  as  pillars  of  fire.  He 
stood  on  the  earth  and  the  sea.  He  sware  by  him 
that  livcth  for  ever  and  ever,  that  there  should 
be  time  no  longer."  By  this  oath,  if  we  may 
credit  some  critics,  the  angel  announces  to 
the  Jews,  that  their  measure  was  full,  that 
their  days  of  visitation  were  expired,  and  that 
God  was  about  to  complete,  by  abandoning 
them  to  the  licentious  armies  of  the  emperor 
Adrian,  the  vengeance  he  had  already  begun 
by  Titus  and  Vespasian. 

Wc  will  not  dispute  this  particular  notion, 
but  shall  consider  the  oath  in  a  more  extended 
view.  This  angel  stands  upon  the  earth  and 
the  sea;  he  speaks  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
world:  he  lifts  his  voice  to  you,  my  brethren, 
and  teaches  one  of  the  most  terrific,  but  most 
important  truths  of  religion  and  morality,  that 
the  mercy  of  God,  so  infinitely  diversified,  has, 
notwithstanding,  its  restrictions  and  bounds. 
It  is  infinite,  for  it  embraces  all  mankind.  It 
makes  no  distinction  between  "  the  Jew  and 
the  Greek,  the  Barbarian  and  the  Scythian." 
It  pardons  insults  the  most  notorious,  crimes 
the  most  provoking;  and  extricating  the  sinner 
from  the  abyss  of  misery,  opens  to  him  the 
vray  to  supreme  felicity.  But  it  is  limited. 
When  the  sinner  becomes  obstinate,  when  he 
long  resists,  when  he  defers  conversion,  God 
shuts  up  the  bowels  of  his  compassion,  and  re- 
jects the  prayer  of  those  who  have  hardened 
themselves  against  his  calls. 

From  this  awful  principle,  Isaiah  deduces 
the  doctrine  which  constitutes  the  subject  of 
our  text.  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  ho  may 
be  found,  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near." 
Dispensing  with  minuteness  of  method,  we 
shall  not  stop  to  define  tiie  terms,  "  Seek  ye 
the  Lord,  and  call  ye  upon  him."  Whatever 
mistakes  we  may  be  liable  to  make  on  this 
head,  and  however  disposed  we  miiy  be  to  con- 
found the  appearance  of  conversion  witii  con- 
version itself,  errors  of  this  kind,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  are  not  the  most  destructive. 
Wc  propose  to-day  to  probe  the  wound,  to 
penetrate  to  the  source  of  our  depravity,  to 
dissipate,  if  possible,  the  illusive  charm  which 
destroys  so  many  of  the  Christian  world,  and 
of  which  Satan  too  succes-sfully  avails  himself 
for  their  seduction.  This  delusion,  this  charm, 
1  appeal  to  your  consciences,  consists  of,  I 
know  not  what,  confused  ideas  we  have  formed 
of  the  divine  mercy,  fluctuating  purposes  of 
conversion  on  the  brink  of  futurity,  and  chi- 
merical confidence  of  success  whenever  we 
ehall  enter  on  the  work. 

Oh  the  delay  of  converbion,  we  shall  make  a 
Vol.  IL— 31 


series  of  reflections,  derived  from  three  sources! 
From  vian; — from  the  Scriptures; — and  from 
experience.  We  shall  have  recourse  in  order, 
to  religion,  history,  and  experience,  to  make 
us  sensible  of  the  dangerous  consequences  of 
deferring  the  work.  In  the  first  place,  we  shall 
endeavour  to  prove  from  our  own  constitution, 
that  it  is  ditficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  to  be 
converted  after  having  wasted  life  in  vice. — 
We  shall  secondly  demonstrate  that  revela- 
tion perfectly  accords  witli  nature  on  this  head) 
and  that  whatever  the  Bible  has  taught  con- 
cerning the  olficacy  of  grace,  the  supernatural 
aids  of  tlie  Spirit,  and  the  extent  of  mercy, 
favour  in  no  respect  the  delay  of  conversion. 
Thirdly,  wc  shall  endeavour  to  confirm  the 
doctrines  of  reason  and  revelation,  by  daily  ob- 
servations on  those  who  defer  the  change. — ■ 
These  reflections  would  undoubtedly  produce  a 
better  effect  delivered  in  one  discourse  than  di- 
vided, and  I  would  wish  to  dismiss  the  hearer 
convinced,  persuaded,  and  overpowered  with 
the  mass  of  argument;  but  we  must  proportion 
the  discourse  to  the  attention  of  the  audience, 
and  to  our  own  weakness.  We  design  three 
discourses  on  this  subject,  and  shall  confine  our* 
selves  to-day  to  the  first  head. 

"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found, 
call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near."  On  this 
subject,  to  be  discussed  in  order,  shall  our  voice 
resound  for  the  present  hour;  if  Providence 
permit  us  to  ascend  this  pulpit  once  more,  it 
shall  be  resumed:  if  we  ascend  it  the  third 
time,  we  will  still  cry,  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord 
while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye  upon  him  while 
he  is  near."  If  a  Christian  minister  ought  to 
be  heard  with  attention,  if  deference  ought  to  be 
paid  to  his  doctrine,  may  this  command  change 
the  face  of  this  church!  May  the  scales  fall 
from  our  eyes!  and  may  the  spiritually  blind 
recover  their  sight! 

Our  mind,  prevented  by  passion  and  preju-* 
dice,  requires  divine  assistance  in  its  ordinary 
reflections;  but  now  attacking  the  sinner  in  his 
chief  fort  and  last  retreat,  1  do  need  thy  invin- 
cible power,  O  my  God,  and  I  expect  every  aid 
from  thy  support. 

I.  Our  own  constitution  shall  supply  us  to- 
day with  arguments  on  the  delay  of  conversion. 
It  is  clear  that  we  carry  in  our  own  breast  prin- 
ciples which  render  conversion  difficult,  and  I 
may  add,  impossible,  if  deferred  to  a  certain 
period.  To  comprehend  this,  form  in  your 
mind  an  adequate  idea  of  conversion,  and  fully 
admit,  that  the  soul,  in  order  to  possess  this 
state  of  grace,  must  acquire  two  essential  dis- 
positions; it  must  be  illuminated;  it  must  bo 
sanctified.  It  must  understand  the  truths  of 
religion,  and  conform  to  its  precepts. 

First.  You  camiot  become  regenerate  untes3 
you  know  the  truths  of  religion.  Not  that  we 
would  preach  the  gospel  to  you  as  a  discipline 
having  no  object  but  the  exercise  of  specu- 
lation. We  neither  wish  to  make  the  Chris- 
tian a  philosopher,  nor  to  encumber  his  mind 
with  a  thousand  questions  agitated  in  the 
schools.  Much  less  would  we  elevate  salva- 
tion above  tlie  comprehension  of  persons  of 
common  miderstanding;  who,  being  incapable 
of  abstruse  thought,  would  be  cut  off  from  the 
divine  favour,  if  this  change  required  profound 
reflection,  and  refined  investigation.     It  oan* 


242 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


not,  however,  be  disputed,  that  every  man 
should  be  instructed  according  to  liis  situation 
in  hfe,  and  according  to  the  t:ai)acity  he  lias 
received  from  heaven.  In  a  word,  a  Cliristian 
ought  to  be  a  Christian,  not  because  he  has 
been  educated  in  tiie  principles  of  Christianity 
transmitted  by  his  fathers,  but  because  tliose 
principles  came  from  God. 

To  have  contrary  dispositions,  to  follow  a 
religion  from  obstinacy  or  prejudice,  is  equally 
to  renounce  the  dignity  of  a  nwn,  a  Cliristian, 
and  a  Protestant: — The  dignity  of  a  man,  who, 
endowed  with  intelligence,  should  never  de- 
cide on  iin|>ortant  subjects  witliout  consulting 
his  understanding,  given  to  guide  and  condacl 
him: — The  dignity  of  a  Christian;  for  the  gos- 
pel reveals  a  God  who  may  be  known,  John  iv. 
22;  it  requires  us  to  "prove  all  things,  and  to 
hold  fast  that  which  is  good,"  1  Tliess.  v.  21. 
The  dignity  of  a  Protestant;  for  it  is  tiie 
foundation  and  distinguishing  article  of  the 
Reformation,  that  submission  to  human  creeds 
is  a  bondage  unworthy  of  him  vi^hoin  the  "  Son 
has  made  free."  Inquiry,  knowledge,  and  in- 
vestigation, are  the  leading  points  of  religion, 
and  the  first  step,  so  to  speak,  by  which  we  are 
to  "seek  the  Lord." 

The  second  disposition  is  sanctification.  The 
truths  proposed  in  Scripture  for  examination 
and  belief,  are  not  presented  to  excite  vain  s])e- 
culations,  or  gratify  curiosity.  They  are  truliis 
designed  to  produce  a  divine  iiilluence  on  the 
heart  and  lite.  "He  tliat  saith,  1  know  him, 
and  keepeth  not  his  connnandmeiits,  is  a  liar. 
If  you  know  these  things,  happy  are  you,  if 
you  do  them.  Pure  religion  and  undeHled  be- 
fore God  and  the  Father,  is  this,  to  visit  the 
fatherless  and  the  widows  in  their  afliiction,'" 
1  John  ii.  4;  John  xiii.  1";  James  i.  27.  When 
we  speak  of  Christian  obedience,  we  do  not 
mean  some  transient  acts  of  devotion;  we  mean 
a  submission  proceeding  from  a  source  of  ho- 
liness, which,  however  mixed  with  imperfec- 
tion in  its  eflbrts,  piety  is  always  the  predomi- 
nant disposition  of  the  heart,  and  virtue  tri- 
umphant over  vice. 

These  two  points  being  so  established,  that 
no  one  can  justly  dispute  them,  we  may  prove, 
I  am  confident,  from  our  own  constitution,  that 
a  conversion  deferred  ought  always  to  be  sus- 
pected; and  that,  by  delerring  tlio  work,  we 
risk  the  forfeiture  of  the  grace. — Follow  us  in 
these  arguments. 

This  is  true,  first,  with  regard  to  the  light 
essential  to  conversion.  Here,  my  brethren, 
it  were  to  have  been  wished,  that  each  of  you 
had  studied  the  human  constitution;  that  you 
had  attentively  considered  the  mode  in  which 
the  soul  and  body  are  united,  the  close  ties 
which  subsist  between  tlie  intelligence  that 
thinks  within,  and  the  body  to  which  it  is 
united.  We  are  not  pure  spirit;  the  soul  is  a 
lodger  in  matter,  and  on  the  temperature  of  this 
matter  depends  tiie  success  of  our  researches 
after  truth,  and  consequently  after  religion. 

Now,  my  lirethren,  every  season  and  every 
period  of  life  are  not  alike  proper  for  disjiosing 
the  body  to  the  happy  temperature,  which 
leaves  the  soul  at  liberty  for  reflection  and 
thought.  The  j)owt!rs  of  the  brain  fail  with 
years,  the  sen.scs  becomi;  dull,  the  spirits  eva 


in  the  veins,  and  a  cloud  of  darkness  envelopes 
all  the  faculties.  Hence  the  drowsiness  of 
aged  people:  hence  the  difficulty  of  receiving 
now  impressions;  hence  the  return  of  ancient 
objects;  hence  the  obstinacy  in  their  senti- 
ments; hence  the  almost  universal  defect  of 
knowledge  and  compreiiension;  whereas  peo- 
ple less  advanced  in  age  have  usually  an  ea^y 
mind,  a  retentive  memory,  a  liappy  concep- 
tion, and  a  teachable  temper.  It'  we,  there- 
fore, defer  the  acquisition  of  religious  know- 
ledge till  age  has  chilled  the  blood,  obscur- 
ed the  understanding,  enfeebled  tiie  memory, 
and  confirmed  prejudice  and  obstinacy,  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  be  in  a  situation  to  acquire 
that  information  without  which  our  religion 
can  neither  be  agreeable  to  God,  afford  us  solid 
consolation  in  afliiction,  nor  motives  sufficient 
against  temptation. 

if  this  reflection  do  not  strike  you  with  suffi- 
cient force,  follow  man  in  the  succeeding  pe- 
riods of  life.  The  love  of  pleasure  predomi- 
nates in  his  early  years,  and  the  dissipations  of 
the  world  allure  him  from  the  study  of  reli- 
gion. The  sentiments  of  conscience  are  heard, 
however,  notwithstanding  the  tumult  of  a 
thousand  passions:  they  suggest  that,  in  order 
to  peace  of  conscience,  he  must  either  be  reli- 
gious, or  j)ersuade  himself  that  religion  is  alto- 
gether a  phantom.  What  does  a  man  do  in 
this  situation?  He  becomes  eitlier  incredulous 
or  superstitious.  He  believes  witliout  exami- 
nation and  discussion,  that  he  has  been  edu- 
cated in  the  bosom  of  truth;  that  the  religion 
of  his  fatliers  is  the  only  one  which  can  be 
good;  or  rather,  he  regards  religion  only  on 
the  side  of  those  difiicullies  which  infidels  op- 
pose, and  employs  all  his  strength  of  intellect 
to  augment  those  difficulties,  and  to  evade 
their  evidence.  Thus  he  dismisses  religion  to 
escape  his  conscience,  and  becomes  an  obsti- 
nate Atheist,  to  be  calm  in  crimes.  Thus  he 
wastes  his  youth,  time  flies,  years  accumulate, 
notions  become  strong,  impressions  fixed  in  the 
brain,  and  the  brain  gradually  loses  that  sup- 
pleness of  which  we  now  spake. 

A  period  arrives  in  which  these  passions 
seem  to  subside;  and  as  they  were  the  sole 
cause  of  rendering  that  man  superstitious  or 
incredulous,  it  seems  that  incredulity  and  su- 
perstition sliould  vanish  with  the  passions.  Ixjt 
us  ])rofit  by  the  circumstance;  let  us  endeavour 
to  dissi])ate  the  illusion;  let  us  summons  the 
man  to  go  back  to  the  first  source  of  its  errors; 
let  us  talk;  let  us  prove;  let  us  reason;  but  all 
is  unavailing  care;  as  it  commonly  happens 
that  the  aged  talk  of  former  times,  and  recol- 
lect the  facts  which  struck  them  in  their  youth, 
while  present  occurrences  leave  no  trace  on  tlio 
memory,  so  the  old  ideas  continually  run  in 
their  mind. 

Let  us  farther  remark,  that  the  soul  not  only 
loses  with  lime  the  facility  of  discerning  error 
from  truth,  but  after  having  for  a  considerable 
time  habituated  itself  to  converse  solely  with 
sensible  objects,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  at- 
tach it  to  any  other.  See  that  man  who  has 
for  a  course  of  years  been  employed  in  audit- 
ing accounts,  in  examining  the  nature  of  trade, 
the  prudence  of  his  partners,  the  fidelity  of  his 
rrespondenls;  j)r(i]iose  to  liim,  for  instance, 


porate,  the  memory  weakens,  the  blood  chills  |  the  solution  of  a  problem;  desire  him  to  inves- 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


243 


tigato  the  cause  of  a  phenomenon,  the  founda- 
tion of  a  system,  and  you  require  an  impossi- 
bility.    The  niiiid,  however,  of  this  man,  who 
finds  tliese  subjects  so  dilFicult,  and  tiie  mind 
of  the  philosopher  who  investigates  them  witli 
ease,  are  formed  much  in  the  same  way.     All 
the  ditVerence  between  them  is,  that  the  latter 
lias  accustomed  himself  to  the  contemplation 
of  mental  objects,  whereas  the  oilier  has  vo- 
luntarily debased   himself  to  sordid   pursuits, 
degraded  his  understanding,  and  enslaved  it  to 
sensible  objects.     After  having  passed  our  life 
in  this  sort  of  business,  without  allowing  time 
for  reflection,  religion  becomes  an  abyss;  the 
clearest  truth,  mysterious;  the  sligiitcst  study, 
fatigue;  and,,  when  we  would  fix  our  thoughts, 
they  are  captivated  with  involuntary  deviations. 
In  a  word,  tiie  final  inconvenience  which  re- 
sults from  deferring  tiic  study  of  religion,  is  a 
distraction  and  dissipation  proceeding  from  the 
objects  whicii  prepossess  the  mind.     The  va- 
rious scenes  of  life,  presented  to  the  eye,  make 
a  strong  impression  on  the  soul;  and  the  ideas 
will  ol)trude  even  when  we  would  wish  to  di- 
vert the  attention.     Hence  distinguished  em- 
ployments, eminent  situations,  and  professions 
which  require    intense    api)lication,  are    not 
connnonly  the  most  com])atible  with  salvation. 
Not  only  because  they  rob  us,  while  actually 
employed,  of  the  time  wo   should  devote  to 
God,  but  because  they  pursue  us  in  defiance  of 
our  etlbrts.    We  come  to  the  Lord's  house  with 
our  bullocks,  with  our  doves,  with  our  specu- 
lations, with  our  ships,  with  our  bills  of  ex- 
change, with  our  titles,  with  our  equipage,  as 
those  profane  Jews  whom  Jesus  Christ  once 
aliased  from  the  temple  in  Jerusalem.     There 
is  no  need  to  be  a  philosopher  to  perceive  the 
force  of  this  truth;  it  requires  no  evidence  but 
the  history  of  your  own  life.    How  often,  when 
retired  to  the  closet  to  examine  your  conscience, 
have   worldly   speculations    interrupted   your 
duty!     How  often,  when  prostrated  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God,  has  this  heart  which  you  came 
to  offer  him,  robbed  you  of  your  devotion  by 
pursuing  earthly  objects!     How  often,  when 
engaged  in  sacrificing  to  the  Lord  a  sacrifice 
of  repentance,  has  a  thousand  flights  of  birds 
come  to  annoy   the  sacred  service!    Evident 
proof  of  the  truth  we  advance!    Every  day  we 
see  new  objects:  these  objects  leave  ideas;  these 
ideas  recur;  and  the  contracted  soul,  unable  to 
attend  to  the  ideas  it  already  possesses,  and  to 
those  it  would  acquire,  becomes  incapable  of 
religious  investigation.     Happy  is  the  man  de- 
scended from  enlightened  parents,  and  instruct- 
ed, like  Timothy,  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  from 
his  infancy!     Having  consecrated  his  early  life 
to  the  study  of  truth,  he  has  only,  in  a  dying 
and  retired  age,  to  collect  the  consolations  of  a 
religion  magnificent  in  its  promises,  and  incon- 
testable in  ils  proofs. 

Hence  we  conclude,  with  regard  to  whatever 
is  speculative  in  our  salvation,  that  conversion 
becomes  more  difficult  in  proportion  as  it  is  de- 
ferred. We  conclude  with  regard  to  the  light 
of  faith,  that  we  must  "  seek  the  Lord  while 
he  may  be  foimd,  and  call  upon  him  while  he 
is  near."  We  must  study  religion  while  aided 
by  a  collected  mind,  and  an  easy  conception. 
We  must,  while  young,  elevate  the  heart  above 
sensible  objects,  and  fill  the  soul  with  sacred 


trutliB  before  the  world  has  engrossed  its  ca- 
pacity. 

This  truth  is  susceptible  of  a  much  clearer 
demonstration,  when  we  consider  religion  with 
regard  to  practice.  And  as  the  subject  turns 
on  piinciplcs  to  which  we  usually  pay  but 
slight  attention,  we  are  especially  obliged  to 
request,  if  you  would  edify  by  tliis  discourse, 
that  you  would  hear  attentively.  There  are 
subjecls  less  connected,  which  may  be  compre- 
hended, notwithstanding  a  momentary  absence 
of  the  mind;  but  this  requires  an  unremitting 
attenlion,  as  we  lose  the  whole  by  neglecting 
the  smallest  part. 

Ilcincmbcr,  in  the  first  place,  what  wo  have 
already  hinted,  that  in  order  to  true  conver- 
sion, it  is  not  sufiîcicnt  to  evidence  some  par- 
tial acts  of  love  to  God:  the  principle  must  be 
so  profound  and  permanent,  that  this  love, 
tliough  mixed  with  some  defects,  shall  ever  be 
the  predominant  disposition  of  the  heart.  We 
should  not  apprehend  that  any  of  you  would 
dispute  this  assertion,  if  we  should  content  our- 
selves with  pressing  it  in  a  vague  and  general 
way;  and  if  we  had  no  design  to  draw  conclu- 
sions directly  opposite  to  the  notions  of  many, 
and  to  the  practice  of  most.  But  at  the  close 
of  tiiis  discourse,  unable  to  evade  the  conse- 
quences which  follow  the  principle,  we  are 
strongly  persuaded  you  will  renew  the  attack 
on  the  principle  itself,  and  deny  that  to  which 
you  have  already  assented.  Hence  we  ought 
not  to  proceed  before  we  are  agreed  what  we 
ought  to  believe  upon  this  head.  We  ask  you, 
brethren,  whetlier  you  believe  it  requisite  to 
love  God  in  order  to  salvation?  We  can  scarce- 
ly think  that  any  of  our  audience  will  answer 
in  the  negative;  at  least  we  should  fear  to 
speak  with  much  more  confidence  on  this 
point,  and  on  the  necessity  of  acquiring  instruc- 
tion in  order  to  conversion,  than  to  supersede 
the  obligation  of  loving  God,  because  it  would 
derogate  from  the  dignity  of  man,  who  is  ob- 
liged to  love  his  benefactor;  from  the  dignity 
of  a  Christian,  educated  under  a  covenant 
which  denounces  anathemas  against  those  who 
love  not  the  Lord  Jesus;  from  the  dignity  of  a 
Protestant,  who  cannot  be  ignorant  how  all  the 
divines  of  our  communion  have  exclaimed 
against  the  doctrine  of  Rome  on  the  subject  of 
penance. 

Recollect,  my  brethren,  that  we  are  agreed 
upon  this  point;  recollect  in  the  subsequent 
parts  of  this  discourse,  that,  in  order  to  conver- 
sion, we  must  have  a  radical  and  habitual  love 
to  God.  This  principle  being  allowed,  all  that 
we  have  to  say  against  the  delay  of  conversion, 
becomes  self-established.  The  whole  question 
is  reduced  to  this;  if  in  a  dying  hour,  if  at  the 
extremity  of  life,  if  in  a  short  and  fleeting  mo- 
ment, you  can  acquire  this  habit  of  divine  love, 
which  we  have  all  agreed  is  necessary  to  salva- 
tion; if  it  can  be  acquired  in  one  moment,  then 
we  will  preach  no  more  against  delay:  you  act 
with  propriety.  Put  off",  defer,  procrastinate 
even  to  the  last  moment,  and  by  an  extraordi- 
nary precaution,  never  begin  to  seek  the  plea- 
sures of  piety  till  you  are  abandoned  by  the 
pleasures  of  the  world,  and  satiated  with  its  in- 
famous delights.  But  if  time,  if  labour,  are  re- 
quired to  form  this  genuine  source  of  love  to 
God,  the  necessity  of  which  we  have  already 


244 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


proved,  you  sliould  frankly  acknowledge  the 
folly  of  postponing  bo  important  a  work  for  a 
■ingle  moment;  that  it  is  the  extreme  of  mad- 
ness to  defer  the  task  to  a  dying  hour;  and  that 
the  proj)hct  cannot  too  highly  exalt  his  voice 
in  crying  to  all  who  regard  their  salvation, 
"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  bo  found; 
call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near." 

This  bemg  allowed,  we  proceed  to  establish 
on  two  principles,  all  that  we  have  to  advance 
upon  this  subject.  First,  we  cannot  acquire 
any  habit  without  perfurining  the  correspondent 
actions.  Language,  for  instance,  is  a  thing 
extremely  complex.  To  speak,  requires  a 
thousand  playful  motions  of  the  body,  a  thou- 
sand movements  to  form  the  elements,  and  a 
thousand  sounds  to  perfect  the  articulation. 
All  these  at  first  are  extremely  difficult;  they 
appear  quite  impossible.  There  is  but  one  way 
to  succeed,  that  is,  to  persevere  in  touching  the 
keys,  articulating  the  sounds,  and  producing 
the  movements;  then  what  seemed  at  first  im- 
possible becomes  surmountable,  and  what  be- 
comes surmountable  is  made  easy,  and  what  is 
once  easy  becomes  natural:  we  speak  with  a 
fluency  which  would  be  incredible  were  it  not 
confirmed  by  experience.  The  spirits  flow  to 
the  parts  destined  for  these  operations,  the 
channels  open,  the  difliculties  recede,  the  voli- 
tions are  accomplished;  just  as  a  stream,  whose 
waters  are  turned  by  the  strength  of  hand  and 
aid  of  engines,  falls  by  its  own  weight  to  places 
where  it  could  not  have  been  carried  but  with 
vast  fatigue. 

Secondly,  when  a  habit  is  once  rooted,  it  be- 
comes difficult  or  impossible  to  correct  it,  in 
proportion  as  it  is  confirmed.  We  see  in  the 
human  body,  that  a  man,  by  distraction  or  in- 
dolence, may  suffer  his  person  to  degenerate 
to  a  wretched  situation;  if  he  continue,  his 
wretchedness  increases;  the  body  takes  its 
mould;  what  was  a  negligence,  becomes  a  ne- 
cessity; what  was  a  want  of  attention,  becomes 
a  natural  and  an  insurmountable  imperfection. 
Let  us  apply  these  principles  to  our  subject, 
and  avail  ourselves  of  their  force  to  dissipate, 
if  possible,  the  mistakes  of  mankind  concern- 
ing their  conversation  and  their  virtues.  Habits 
of  the  mind  are  formed  as  habits  of  the  body; 
the  mental  habits  become  as  incorrigible  as 
those  of  the  latter. 

First,  then,  as  in  the  acquisition  of  a  corpo- 
real habit,  we  must  perform  the  correspondent 
actions,  so  in  forming  the  habits  of  religion,  of 
love,  humility,  patience,  charity,  we  must  ha- 
bituate ourselves  to  the  duties  of  patience,  hu- 
mility, and  love.  We  never  acquire  these  vir- 
tues but  by  devotion  to  their  influence:  it  is  not 
sufficient  to  be  sincere  in  wishes  to  attain  them; 
it  is  not  sufficient  to  form  a  sudden  resolution; 
we  must  return  to  tl>o  charge,  and  by  the  con- 
tinued recurrence  of  actions  pursued  and  re- 
peated, ac(]uiro  such  a  source  of  holiness  as 
may  justify  us  in  saying,  that  such  a  man  is 
humble,  patient,  charitable,  and  full  of  divine 
love.  Have  you  never  attended  those  power- 
ful and  pathetic  sermouy,  which  forced  convic- 
tion on  the  most  ot)durate  iHiarts.'  Have  you 
never  seen  tliDse  pale,  trembling,  and  weeping 
assemblies?  Have  you  never  seen  the  hearers 
aflected,  alarmed,  and  rewilved  to  reform  their 
lives?    And  iiave  you  never  been  surprised  to 


sec,  after  a  short  interval,  each  return  to  those 
vices  he  had  regarded  with  horror,  and  neglect 
those  virtues  which  had  appeared  to  him  so 
amiable.'  Whence  proceeded  so  sudden  a 
change.'  What  occasioned  a  defection  which 
apparently  contradicts  every  notion  we  have 
formed  of  the  human  mind?  It  is  here.  This 
piety,  this  devotion,  those  tears  proceeded  from 
a  transient  cause,  and  not  from  a  habit  formed 
by  a  course  of  actions,  and  a  fund  acquired  by 
labour  and  diligence.  The  cause  ceasing,  the 
effects  subside!  the  preacher  is  silent,  and  the 
devotion  is  closed.  Whereas  the  actions  of 
life,  proceeding  from  a  source  of  worldly  aflec- 
tions,  incessantly  return,  just  as  a  torrent,  ob- 
structed by  the  raising  of  a  bank,  takes. an  ir- 
regular course,  and  rushes  forth  with  impetu- 
osity whenever  the  bank  is  removed. 

Farther,  we  must  not  only  engage  in  the  of- 
fices of  piety  to  form  the  habits,  but  they  must 
be  frequent;  just  as  we  repeat  acts  of  vice  to 
form  a  vicious  habit.  Can  you  be  ignorant, 
my  brethren,  of  the  reason?  Who  does  not  feel 
it  in  his  own  breast'  I  carry  it  in  my  own  wick- 
ed heart;  I  know  it  by  the  sad  tests  of  senti- 
ment and  experience.  The  reason  is  obvious; 
habits  of  vice  are  found  conformable  to  our  na- 
tural propensity;  they  are  found  already  formed 
within,  in  the  germ  of  corruption  which  we 
bring  into  the  world.  "  We  are  shapen  in  ini- 
quity, and  conceived  in  sin,"  Ps.  li.  7.  We 
make  a  rapid  progress  in  the  career  of  vice. 
We  arrive,  without  difficulty,  at  perfection  in 
the  works  of  darkness.  A  short  course  suflîcea 
to  become  a  master  in  the  school  of  the  world 
and  of  the  devil;  and  it  is  not  at  all  surprising, 
that  a  man  should  at  once  become  luxurious, 
covetous,  and  implacable,  because  he  carries  in 
his  own  breast  the  principles  of  all  these  vices. 

But  the  habits  of  holiness  are  directly  oppos- 
ed to  our  constitution.  They  obstruct  all  its 
propensities,  and  offer,  if  I  may  so  speak,  vio- 
lence to  nature.  When  we  wish  to  become 
converts,  we  enter  on  a  double  task:  we  must 
demolish,  we  must  build;  we  must  demolish 
corruption,  before  we  can  erect  the  edifice  of 
grace.  We  must  level  mortal  blows  at  the  old 
man,  before  the  new  can  be  revived.  We 
must,  like  those  Jews  who  raised  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  work  with  "  the  sword  in  one  hand, 
and  the  tool  in  the  other,"  Neh.  iv.  17,  equally 
assiduous  to  produce  that  which  is  not,  as  to 
destroy  that  which  already  exists. 

Such  is  the  way,  and  the  only  way,  by  which 
we  can  expect  the  establishment  of  grace  in  the 
heart;  it  is  by  unremitting  labour,  by  perseve- 
rance in  duty,  by  perpetual  vigilance.  Now, 
who  is  it;  who  is  there  among  you  that  can 
enter  into  this  thought,  and  not  perceive  the 
folly  of  those  who  delay  their  conversion?  We 
imagine  that  a  word  from  a  minister,  a  pros- 
pect of  death,  a  sudden  revolution,  will  instan- 
taneously produce  a  perfection  of  virtue'  O 
wretched  philosophy!  extravagance  of  the  sin- 
ner! idle  reverie  of  self-love  and  imagination, . 
that  overturns  the  whole  system  of  original 
corruption,  and  the  mechanism  of  the  human 
frame!  I  should  as  soon  expect  to  find  a  man, 
who  would  play  skilfully  on  an  instrument 
without  having  acquired  the  art  by  practice 
and  application;  I  should  as  soon  expect  to  find 
a  man  who  would  speak  a  language  without 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


245 


having  studied  tho  words,  and  surmounted  the 
fatigue  and  difficulty  of  pronunciation.  The 
speech  of  the  one  would  be  a  barbarous  subject 
of  derision,  and  unintelligible;  and  the  notes  of 
the  other  would  bo  discords  destitute  of  soft- 
ness and  harmony.  Such  is  the  folly  of  tiie 
man  who  would  become  pious,  patient,  hum- 
ble, and  charitable,  in  one  moment,  by  a  sim- 
ple wish  of  the  soul,  without  acquiring  those 
virtues  by  assiduity  and  care.  All  the  acts  of 
piety  you  shall  see  him  ])erfonTi,  are  but  emo- 
tions proceeding  fron)  a  heart  touched,  indeed, 
but  not  converted.  His  devotion  is  a  rash  zeal, 
which  would  usurp  tiie  kingdom  of  heaven  ra- 
ther than  take  it  by  violence.  His  confession  is 
an  avowal  extorted  by  anguish  which  the  Al- 
mighty has  suddenly  inflicted,  and  by  remorse 
of  conscience,  rather  than  sacred  contrition  of 
heart.  His  charity  is  extorted  by  the  fears  of 
death,  and  the  horrors  of  hell.  Dissipate  these 
fears,  calm  that  anguish,  appease  these  terrors, 
and  you  will  see  no  more  zeal,  no  more  chari- 
ty, no  more  tears;  his  heart,  habituated  to  vice, 
will  resume  its  wonted  course.  This  is  the  con- 
sequence of  our  first  principle;  we  shall  next 
examine  the  result  of  the  second. 

We  said,  that  when  a  habit  is  once  rooted, 
it  becomes  difficult  to  surmount  it,  and  alto- 
gether insurmountable,  when  suffered  to  as- 
sume an  absolute  ascendancy.  This  principle 
suggests  a  new  reflection  on  the  sinner's  con- 
duct who  delays  his  conversion;  a  very  impor- 
tant reflection,  which  we  would  wish  to  impress 
on  the  mind  of  our  audience.  In  the  early 
course  of  vice,  we  sin  with  a  power  by  which 
we  could  abstain,  were  we  to  use  violence; 
hence  we  flatter  ourselves  that  we  shall  pre- 
serve that  precious  power,  and  be  able  to  eradi- 
cate vice  from  the  heart,  whensoever  we  shall 
form  the  resolution.  Wretched  philosophy 
still;  another  illusion  of  self-attachment,  a  new 
charm  of  which  the  devil  avails  himself  for  our 
destruction.  Because,  when  we  have  long  con- 
tinued in  sin,  when  we  are  advanced  in  age, 
when  reformation  has  been  delayed  for  a  long 
course  of  years,  vice  assumes  the  sovereignty, 
and  we  are  no  longer  our  own  masters. 

You  intimate  to  us  a  wish  to  be  converted; 
but  when  do  you  mean  to  enter  on  the  work? 
To-morrow,  without  farther  delay. — And  are 
you  not  very  absurd  in  deferring  till  to-mor- 
row? To-day,  when  you  wished  to  undertake 
it,  you  shrunk  on  seeing  what  labour  it  would 
cost,  what  difficulties  must  be  surmounted, 
what  victories  must  be  obtained  over  your- 
selves. From  this  change  you  divert  your  eyes: 
to-day  you  still  wish  to  follow  your  course,  to 
abandon  your  heart  to  sensible  objects,  to  fol- 
low your  passions,  and  gratify  your  concupis- 
cence. But  to-morrow  you  intimate  a  wish 
of  recalling  your  thoughts,  of  citing  your  wick- 
ed propensities  before  the  bar  of  God,  and  pro- 
nouncing their  sentence.  O  sophism  of  self- 
esteem!  carrying  with  it  its  own  refutation. 
For  if  this  wicked  propensity,  strengthened  to 
a  certain  point,  appears  invincible  to-day,  how 
shall  it  bo  otherwise  to-morrow,  when  to  the 
actions  of  past  days  you  shall  have  added  those 
of  this  day!  If  this  sole  idea,  if  this  mere 
thought  of  labour,  induce  you  to  defer  to-day, 
what  is  to  support  you  to-morrow  under  tlie 
real  labour?    Farther,  there  follows  a  conse- 


quence from  these  reflections,  which  may  ap- 
pear unheard  of  to  those  who  are  unaccustom- 
ed to  examine  the  result  of  a  principle;  but 
which  may  perhajis  convince  those  who  know 
how  to  use  their  reason,  and  have  some  know- 
ledge of  human  nature.  It  seems  to  me,  that, 
since  habits  are  formed  by  actions,  when  those 
habits  are  continued  to  an  age  in  which  the 
brain  acquires  a  certain  consistency,  correction 
serves  merely  to  interrupt  the  actions  already 
established. 

It  would  be  sufficient  in  early  life,  while  the 
brain  is  yet  flexible,  and  induced  by  its  own 
texture  to  lose  imjiressions  as  readily  as  it  ac- 
quired them;  at  this  age,  I  say,  to  quit  the  ac- 
tion would  bo  sufficient  to  reform  the  habit. 
But  when  the  brain  has  acquired  the  degree  of 
consistency  already  mentioned,  the  simple  sus- 
pension of  the  act  is  not  sufficient  to  eradicate 
the  habit;  because  by  its  texture  it  is  disposed 
to  continue  the  same,  and  to  retain  the  impres- 
sions already  received. 

Hence,  when  a  man  has  grovelled  a  conside- 
rable time  in  vice,  to  quit  it  is  not  a  sufficient 
reform;  for  him  there  is  but  one  remedy,  that 
is,  to  perform  actions  directly  opposed  to  those 
which  had  formed  the  habit.  Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, that  a  man  shall  have  lived  in  avarice 
for  twenty  years,  and  been  guilty  of  ten  acts 
of  extort'on  every  day.  Suppose  he  shall  af- 
terward have  a  desire  to  reform;  Ihat  he  shall 
devote  ten  years  to  the  work;  that  he  shall 
every  day  do  ten  acts  of  charity  opposite  to 
those  of  his  avarice;  these  ten  years  (consider- 
ing the  case  here  according  to  the  course  of 
nature  only,  for  we  allow  interior  and  super- 
natural aids  in  the  conversion  of  a  sinner,  as 
we  shall  prove  in  the  subsequent  discourses,) 
would  those  ten  acts  be  sufficient  perfectly  to 
eradicate  covetousness  from  this  man?  It  seems 
contrary  to  the  most  received  maxims.  You 
have  heard  that  habits  confirmed  to  a  certain 
degree,  and  continued  to  a  certain  age,  are 
never  reformed  but  by  a  number  of  opposite 
actions  proportioned  to  those  which  had  form- 
ed the  habit.  The  character  before  us  has  lived 
twenty  years  in  the  practice  of  avarice,  and  but 
ten  in  the  exercise  of  charity,  doing  only  ten 
acts  of  benevolence  daily  during  that  period; 
he  has  then  arrived  at  an  age  in  which  he  has 
lost  the  facility  of  receiving  new  impressions. 
We  cannot,  therefore,  I  think,  affirm  that  those 
ten  years  are  adequate  perfectly  to  eradicate 
the  vice  from  his  heart.  After  all,  sinners,  you 
still  continue  in  those  habits,  aged  in  crimes, 
heaping  one  bad  deed  upon  another,  and  flat- 
tering yourselves  to  reform,  by  a  wish,  by  a 
glance,  by  a  tear,  without  difficulty  or  conflict, 
habits  the  most  inveterate.  Such  are  the 
reflections  suggested  by  a  knowledge  of  the  hu- 
man frame  with  regard  to  the  delay  of  conver- 
sion. To  this  you  will  oppose  various  objec- 
tions which  it  is  of  importance  to  resolve. 

You  will  say,  that  our  principles  are  contra- 
dicted by  experience;  that  we  daily  see  persons 
who  have  long  indulged  a  vicious  habit,  and 
who  have  renounced  it  at  once  without  repeat- 
ing the  opposite  acts  of  virtue.  The  fact  is 
possible,  it  is  indeed  undeniable.  It  may  hap- 
pen in  five  cases,  which,  when  fully  examined, 
will  be  found  not  at  all  to  invalidate  what  haa 
already  been  established. 


246 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


1 .  A  man  possessing  tlie  free  use  of  his  facul- 
ties may  by  an  ettbrt  of  reflection  extricate 
himself  from  a  vicious  habit,  I  allow;  but  we 
have  superseded  the  objection,  by  a  case  appa- 
rently applicable.  We  have  cautiously  antici- 
pated, and  often  assumed  the  solution.  We 
speak  of  those  only,  who  have  attained  an  ad- 
vanced age,  and  have  lost  the  facility  of  acquir- 
ing new  dispositions.  Have  you  ever  seen  per- 
sons of  sixty  or  seventy  years  of  age  renounce 
their  avarice,  their  pride;  some  favourite  pas- 
sion, or  a  family  prejudice? 

2.  A  man  placed  in  a  hopeless  situation,  and 
under  an  extraordinary  stroke  of  Providence, 
may  instantly  reform  a  habit,  I  grant;  but  that 
does  not  destroy  our  principles.  We  have  not 
included  in  our  reflections  those  extraordinary 
visitations  wliich  Providence  may  employ  to 
subdue  the  sinner.  When  we  said  that  the  re- 
formation of  a  vicious  habit  would  require  a 
ntmiber  of  acts  which  have  some  proportion  to 
those  which  formed  it,  we  supposed  an  equality 
of  impressions  in  those  actions,  and  that  each 
action  would  be  equal  to  that  wo  wished  to  de- 
stroy. 

3.  A  man  may  suddenly  reform  a  habit  on 
the  reception  of  new  ideas,  and  on  hearing 
some  truths  of  which  he  was  ignorant  before,  I 
also  acknowledge;  but  this  proves  nothing  to  the 
point.  We  spoke  of  a  man  born  in  the  bosom 
of  the  churcli,  educated  in  the  principles  of 
Christianity,  and  who  has  reflected  a  thousand 
and  a  thousand  times  on  the  truths  of  religion; 
and  on  whom  we  have  pressed  a  thousand  and 
a  thousand  times  the  motives  of  repentance 
and  regeneration;  but,  being  now  hardened,  he 
can  hear  nothing  new  on  those  subjects. 

4.  A  man  ma}',  I  allow,  on  the  decay  of  his 
faculties,  suddenly  reform  a  bad  habit;  but  what 
has  this  to  do  with  the  renovation  which  God 
requires?  In  this  case,  the  effect  of  sin  vanishes 
away,  but  the  principle  remains.  A  particular 
act  of  the  bad  habit  yields  to  weakness  and  ne- 
cessity, but  the  source  still  subsists,  and  wholly 
predominates  in  the  man. 

5.  In  fine,  a  man  whose  life  has  been  a  con- 
tinued warfare  between  vice  and  virtue;  but 
with  whom  vice  for  the  most  part  has  had  the 
ascendancy  over  virtue,  may  obtain  in  his  last 
sickness,  the  grace  of  real  conversion.  There 
is,  however,  something  doubtful  in  the  case; 
conversion  on  a  death-bed  being  difllcult  or  im- 
possible; because  between  one  unconverted  man 
and  another  there  is  often  a  vast  diflcrence;  the 

if  I  may  so  speak,  is  within  a  step  of  the 


grave,  but  the  other  has  a  vast  course  to  run, 
The  former  has  subdued  his  habits,  has  already 
made  a  progress,  not  indeed  so  far  as  to  attain, 
but  so  far  as  to  approacii  a.  state  of  regenera- 
tion: this  man  may,  perhaps,  be  changed  in  a 
moment:  but  Iiow  can  he,  who  has  already 
wa.sted  life  in  ignorance  and  vice,  efl'cctuate  .so 
great  a  change  in  a  few  days,  or  a  fow  hours? 
We  have  tlicrefore  proved  our  point  tiiat  the 
first  objection  is  destitute  of  force. 

You  will,  however,  propose  a  second:  you 
will  say,  that  this  [)rinciple  proves  too  much, 
that  if  we  cannot  be  saved  without  a  fund  and 
habit  of  holiness,  and  if  this  habit  cannot  be 
acquired  without  |)erseveranco  in  duty,  wo  ex- 


not  suflîcient  time  to  form  a  counterpoise  to 
the  force  of  their  criminal  habits. 

This  difliculty  naturally  presents  itself  to  the 
mind;  but  the  solution  we  give  does  not  so 
properly  accord  with  this  discourse;  it  shall  be 
better  answered  in  tlic  exercises  which  shall 
follow,  wlicn  we  shall  draw  our  arguments 
from  the  Scriptures.  We  shall  then  affirm 
that  when  a  sinner  groans  under  the  burden  of 
his  corruption,  and  sincerely  desires  conversion, 
God  aflbrds  his  aid,  and  gives  him  supernatural 
povver  t<j  vanfjuisii  iiis  sinful  propensities.  But 
we  shall  prove,  at  the  same  time,  that  those  aids 
are  so  very  far  from  countenancing  the  delay 
of  conversion,  that  no  consideration  can  be 
more  intimidating  to  him  who  presumes  on  so 
awful  a  course.  For,  my  brethren,  our  divinity 
and  morality  give  each  other  the  hand,  the  one 
being  established  upon  the  other.  Tiiere  is  a 
wise  medium  between  heresy,  and  I  know  not 
what  absurd  and  extravagant  orthodoxy;  and 
as  it  is  a  bad  maxim  so  to  establish  the  precepts, 
as  to  renounce  the  doctrines  of  Jesus  Christ,  it 
is  equally  pernicious  to  make  a  breach  in  his 
precepts,  to  confirm  the  doctrines. 

The  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  a  conscious- 
ness of  our  own  weaknes-s,  are  the  most  power- 
ful motives  which  can  prompt  us  to  labour  for 
conversion  without  delay.  If  conversion,  after 
a  life  of  vice,  depended  on  yourselves,  if  your 
heart  were  in  your  power,  if  you  had  sufficient 
command  to  sanctify  yourselves  at  pleasure, 
then  you  would  have  some  reason  for  flattery 
in  this  delay.  But  your  conversion  cannot  be 
eflTsctuated  without  an  extraneous  cause,  with- 
out the  aids  of  the  Spirit  of  God;  aids  he  will 
probably  witlihold,  after  you  shall  have  despised 
his  grace,  and  insulted  it  with  obstinacy  and 
malice.  On  this  head  therefore,  you  can  força 
no  reasonable  hope. 

You  will  draw  a  third  objection  from  what 
we  have  already  allowed,  that  a  severe  afflic- 
tion may  suddenly  transform  the  heart.  To 
this  principle,  wc  shall  grant  that  the  prosj>ect 
of  approaching  death  may  make  an  impression 
to  undeceive  the  sinner;  that  the  veil  of  cor- 
ruption raised  at  the  close  of  life,  may  induce 
a  man  to  yield  at  once  to  the  dictates  of  con- 
science, as  one  walking  hastily  towards  a  pre- 
cipice, would  start  back  on  removing  the  fatal 
bandage  which  concealed  the  danger  into  which 
he  was  about  to  fall. 

On  this  ground,  I  would  await  you,  breth- 
ren. Is  it  then  on  a  death-bed,  that  you  found 
your  hopes?  We  will  pledge  ourselves  to 
prove,  that  so  far  from  this  being  the  most 
happy  season,  it  is  exactly  the  reverse.  The 
reflections  we  shall  make  on  this  subject,  are 
much  more  calculated  to  strike  the  mind  than 
those  already  advanced,  which  require  some 
penetration,  but  it  sufliccs  to  have  eyes  to  per- 
ceive the  force  of  tho.se  which  now  lollow. 

We  will  not  absolutely  deny  the  possibility 
of  the  fact  on  which  the  objection  is  founded. 
Wc  allow  that  a  man,  who  with  composure  of 
mind  sees  the  decay  of  his  earthly  house,  and 
regards  death  with  attentive  eyes,  may  enter 
into  the  requisite  dispositions.  Death  being 
considered  as  near,  enables  him  to  know  the 
world,  to  discover  its  vanity,  emptiness,  and  to- 


cludo  from  salvation  those  deeply  contrite  sin-    tal  insufficiency.     A  man  who  has  but  a  few 
ners  who  having  wasted  life  in  vice,  have  now  I  moments  to  live,  and  who  sees  that  his  honour, 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


247 


his  riches,  his  titles,  }iis  grandeur,  and  the 
whole  universe  united  for  liis  aid,  can  afford 
him  no  consolation:  a  man  so  situated  knows 
the  vanity  of  the  world  better  than  tlie  great- 
est philosophers,  and  the  severest  anchorets: 
hence  he  may  detacii  his  heart.  We  would 
oven  wish  that  the  Deity  should  accept  of  such 
a  conversion,  should  be  satisfied  with  one  who 
does  not  devote  himself  to  virtue,  till  the  occa- 
sions of  vice  are  removed,  and  should  receive 
the  like  sinner  at  the  extremities  of  life;  it  is 
certain,  however,  tiiat  all  these  suppositions 
are  so  far  from  tiivouring  the  delay  of  conver- 
sion, as  to  demonstrate  its  absurdity. — How 
can  we  presume  on  what  may  happen  in  the 
hour  of  death?  Of  how  many  dilllculties  is 
this  illusory  scheme  susceptible!  Shall  1  die 
in  a  bed  calm  and  composed?  Shall  I  have 
presence  and  recollection  of  mind?  Shall  1 
avail  myself  of  these  circumstances  to  eradi- 
cate vice  from  the  heart,  and  to  estabhsh  there 
the  kingdom  of  righteousness? 

For,  Hrst,  who  is  to  guarantee  that  you  shall 
die  in  this  situation?  To  how  many  disastrous 
accidents,  to  how  many  tragic  events  are  you 
not  exposed?  Does  not  every  creature,  every 
substance  which  surrounds  you,  menace  both 
your  health  and  your  life?  If  your  hopes  of 
conversion  are  founded  on  a  supposition  of  this 
kind,  you  must  fear  the  whole  universe.  Are 
you  in  the  house?  you  must  fear  its  giving 
way,  and  dissipating  by  the  fall  all  your  expec- 
tations. Are  you  in  the  open  field?  you  must 
fear  lest,  the  earth,  opening  its  caverns,  should 
swallow  you  up,  and  thus  elude  your  hope. 
Are  you  on  tiie  waters?  you  must  fear  to  see 
in  every  wave  a  messenger  of  death,  a  mi- 
nister of  justice,  and  an  avenger  of  your  luke- 
warmness  and  delay.  Amidst  so  many  well- 
founded  fears,  what  repose  can  you  enjoy?  If 
any  one  of  these  accidents  should  overtake 
you,  say  now,  what  would  become  of  your 
foolish  prudence?  Who  is  it  that  would  then 
study  for  you  the  religion  you  have  neglected? 
Who  is  it  that  would  then  slied  for  you  tears 
of  repentance?  Who  is  it  that  would  then  quench 
for  you  the  devouring  fire,  kindled  against 
your  crimes,  and  ready  to  consume  you?  Is  a 
tragic  death  a  thing  unknown?  What  year 
elapses  undistinguisiied  by  visitations  of  this 
kind?  What  campaign  is  closed  without  pro- 
ducing myriads? 

In  the  second  place,  we  will  suppose  that 
you  shall  die  a  natural  death.  Have  you  ever 
seen  the  dying?  Do  you  presume  that  one  can 
be  in  a  proper  state  for  thought  and  reflection, 
when  seized  with  those  presages  of  death, 
which  announce  his  approach?  When  one  is 
seized  with  those  insupportable  and  piercing 
pains  which  take  every  reflection  from  the 
soul?  When  exposed  to  those  stupors  which 
benumb  the  brightest  wit,  and  the  most  pierc- 
ing genius?  To  those  profound  lethargies  which 
render  unavailing,  motives  the  most  powerful, 
and  exhortations  tiie  most  patiietic?  To  those 
frequent  reverses  which  present  phantoms  and 


deplorable  situation,  and  to  execute  the  chi- 
merical projects  of  conversion? 

In  the  third  ])lace,  we  will  suppose  that  you 
shall,  by  the  peculiar  favour  of  heaven,  be  vi- 
sited with  one  of  those  mild  complaints,  which 
conduct  imperceptibly  to  the  grave,  and  unat- 
tended with  pain;  would  you  tiien  be  more  hap- 
pily disposed  for  conversion?  Are  we  not  daily 
witnesses  of  what  passes  on  those  occasions? 
Our  friends,  our  family,  our  self-esteem,  all 
unite  to  make  us  augur  a  favourable  issue, 
whenever  the  affliction  is  not  desperate:  and 
not  thinl;ing  this  the  time  of  death,  we  think 
also  it  ought  not  to  be  the  time  of  conversion. 
After  having  disputed  with  God  the  fine  days 
of  healtii,  we  regret  to  give  him  the  lucid  in- 
tervals of  our  affliction.  We  would  wish  hira 
to  receive  the  soul  at  the  precise  moment  when 
it  hovers  on  our  lips.  We  hope  to  live,  and 
hope  inflames  desire;  the  wish  to  live  more  and 
more  enroots  the  love  we  had  for  the  world; 
and  "  the  friendship  of  this  world  is  enmity 
with  God."  Meanwhile  the  afttiction  extends 
itself,  the  disease  takes  its  course,  the  body 
weakens,  the  spirits  droop,  and  death  arrives 
even  before  we  had  scarcely  thought  that  we 
were  mortal. 

Fancy  yourselves,  in  short,  to  die  in  the 
most  favourable  situation,  tranquil  and  com- 
posed, without  delirium,  without  stupor,  with- 
out lethargy.     Fancy  also,   that   stripped  of 
prejudice,  and  the  chimerical    hope  of  reco- 
very, you  should  know  that  your  end  is  near. 
I  ask  whether  the  single  thouglit,  the  sole  idea, 
that  you  shall  soon  die,  be  not  capable  of  de- 
priving you  of  the  composure  essential  to  the 
work  of  your  salvation?     Can  a  man  habitu- 
ated to  dissipation,  accustomed  to   care,  de- 
voted to  its  maxims,  see  without  confusion  and 
regret,  his  designs  averted,  his  hopes  frustrated, 
his  schemes  subverted,  tiie  fashion  of  the  world 
vanisliing  before  his  eyes,  the  thrones  erected, 
the  books  opened,  and  his  soul  cited  before  the 
tribunal  of  the  Sovereign  Judge?     We  have 
frequent  occasions  to  observe,  when  attending 
the  sick,  that  those  wiio  suffer  the  greatest  an- 
guish, are  not  always  the  most  distressed  about 
their  sins,  however  deplorable  their  state  may 
be,  their  pains  so  far  engross  the  capacity  of 
the  soul,  as  to  obstruct  their  paying  attention 
to  what  is  most  awful,  the  image  of  approach- 
ing death.     But  a  man  who  sees  himself  ap- 
proaching the  grave,  and  looks  on  his  exit  un- 
disturbed  with   pains;   a  man  who  considers 
death  as  it  really  is,  suffers  sometimes  greater 
anguish  than  those  which  can  arise  from  the 
acutcst  disease. 

Eut  what  shall  I  say  of  the  multitude  of 
anxieties  attendant  on  this  fatal  hour?  Physi- 
cians must  be  called  in,  advice  must  be  taken, 
and  endeavours  used  to  support  this  tottering 
tabernacle.  He  must  appoint  a  successor, 
make  a  will,  bid  adieu  to  tlie  world,  weep  over 
his  family,  embrace  his  friends,  and  detach  his 
aflections.  Is  there  time  then,  is  there  time 
amid  so  many  afflictive  objects,  amid  the  tu- 


chimeras,  and  fill  the  soul   with  a  thousand  |  mult  of  so  many  alarms;  is  there  time  to  ex- 


alarm.s?  My  brethren,  would  we  always  wish 
to  deceive  ourselves?  Look,  foolish  man;  look 
on  this  pale  extended  corpse,  look  again  on 
this  now  dying  carcass:  where  is  the  mind 
which  has  fortitude  to  recollect  itself  in  this 


amine  religion,  to  review  the  circumstances  of 
a  vanishing  life,  to  restore  the  wealth  illegally 
acquired,  to  repair  the  tarnished  reputation  of 
his  neighbour,  to  repent  of  his  sin,  to  examine 
his  heart,  and  weigh  those  distinguished  mo- 


248 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


lives  which  prompt  us  to  holiness?  My  breth- 
ren, whenever  we  devote  ourselves  entirely  to 
the  great  work;  whenever  we  employ  all  our 
bodily  powers,  all  our  mental  faculties;  when- 
ever we  employ  the  whole  of  life  it  is  scarcely 
saflicient,  how  then  can  it  be  done  by  a  busy, 
wandering,  troubled,  and  departing  spirit' 
Hence  the  third  ditticulty  vanishes  of  its  own 
accord;  hence  we  may  maintain  as  permanent, 
the  principles  we  have  discussed,  and  the  con- 
sequences we  have  deduced. 

Now,  we  are  fully  convinced  that  those  of 
you  who  know  how  to  reason,  will  not  disj)ute 
these  principles;  I  say  those  who  know  how  to 
reason;  because  it  is  impossible,  but  among  two 
or  three  thousand  persons,  there  must  be  found 
some  eccentric  minds,  who  deny  the  clearest 
and  most  evident  truths.  If  there  are  among 
our  hearers,  persons  who  believe  that  a  man 
can  effectuate  conversion  by  his  own  strength, 
it  would  not  be  proper  for  them  to  reject  our 
principles,  and  they  can  have  no  right  to  com- 
plain. If  you  are  orthodox,  as  we  suppose, 
you  cannot  regard  as  false  what  we  have  now 
proved.  Our  maxims  have  been  founded  on 
the  most  rigid  orthodoxy,  on  the  inability  of 
man,  on  the  necessity  of  grace,  on  original  cor- 
ruption, and  on  the  various  objections  which 
our  most  venerable  divines  have  opposed  to 
the  system  of  degenerate  casuists.  Hence,  as 
I  have  said,  not  one  of  you  can  claim  the  right 
of  disputing  the  doctrine  we  have  taught. 
Heretics,  orthodox,  and  all  the  world  are  oblig- 
ed to  receive  them,  and  you  yourselves  have 
nothing  to  object.  But  we,  my  brethren,  we 
have  many  sad  and  terrific  consequences  to 
draw;  but  at  the  same  time,  consequences 
equally  worthy  of  your  regard. 

APPLICATION. 
First,  you  should  reduce  to  practice  the  ob- 
servations we  have  made  on  conversion,  and 
particularly  the  reflections  we  have  endeavour- 
ed to  establish,  that  in  order  to  be  truly  rege- 
nerate, it  is  not  suflicient  to  do  some  partial 
services  for  God,  love  must  be  the  reigning  dis- 
position of  the  heart.  This  idea  ought  to  cor- 
rect the  erroneous  notions  you  entertain  of  a 
good  life,  and  a  happy  death,  that  you  can  nei- 
ther know  those  things  in  this  world,  nor  should 
you  wish  to  know  them.  They  are,  indeed, 
visionaries  who  atfecl  to  be  offended  when  we 
press  those  grand  truths  of  religion,  who  would 
disseminate  their  ridiculous  errors  in  the  church, 
and  incessantly  cry  in  our  ears,  "  Christians, 
take  heed  to  yourselves;  they  shako  the  foun- 
dation of  faith;  the  doctrine  of  assurance  is  a 
doctrine  of  fanaticism." 

My  brethren,  were  this  a  subject  less  serious 
and  grave,  nothing  would  hinder  us  from  ridi- 
culing all  scruples  of  this  nature.  "  Take  heed 
to  yourselves,  for  there  is  fanaticism  in  the 
doctrine:"  wo  would  press  you  to  love  God 
with  all  your  heart;  we  would  press  you  to  con- 
secrate to  liini  your  whole  liic;  wo  would  in- 
duce you  not  to  defer  conversion,  but  prepare 
for  a  happy  duatii  by  tiio  continual  exercise  of 
repentance  and  picly.  Is  it  not  obvious  that 
wo  ought  to  be  cautious  of  admitting  such  a 
doctrine,  and  that  the  church  would  bo  in  a  de- 
plorable condition  woro  all  her  members  adorned 
with  those  dispositions?     But  we  have  said  al- 


ready, that  the  subject  is  too  grave  and  serioua 
to  admit  of  pleasantry. 

My  brethren,  "  if  any  one  preach  to  you 
another  gospel  than  that  which  has  been  preach- 
ed, let  him  be  accursed."  If  any  one  will  pre- 
sume to  attack  those  doctrines  which  the  sa- 
cred authors  have  left  in  their  writings,  which 
your  fathers  have  transmitted,  which  some  of 
you  have  sealed  with  your  blood,  and  nearly 
all  of  you  with  your  riches  and  fortune;  if 
any  one  presume  to  attack  them,  let  the  doc- 
tors refute,  let  the  ecclesiastical  sword  cut, 
pierce,  exscind,  and  excommunicate  at  a  stroke 
the  presumptuous  man.  But  consider  also 
that  the  end  of  all  these  truths  is,  to  induce 
mankind  to  love  their  Maker.  This  is  so  es- 
sential, that  we  make  no  scruple  to  say,  if 
there  were  one  among  the  different  Christian 
sects  better  calculated  to  make  you  holy  than 
our  communion,  you  ought  to  leave  this  in  or- 
der to  attach  yourselves  hereafter  to  the  other. 
One  of  the  first  reasons  which  should  induce  ua 
to  respect  the  doctrine  of  the  incarnate  God, 
the  inward,  immediate,  and  supernatural  aids 
of  the  Spirit  is,  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  more  happily  calculated  to  enforce  the 
obligation  of  loving  God. 

Return  therefore,  from  your  prejudices,  irra- 
diate your  minds,  and  acquire  more  correct 
ideas  of  a  holy  life,  and  a  happy  death.  On 
this  subject,  we  flatter  and  confuse  ourselves, 
and  willingly  exclude  instruction.  We  ima- 
gine, that  provided  we  have  paid  during  the 
ordinary  course  of  life,  a  modified  regard  to 
devotion,  we  have  but  to  submit  to  the  will  of 
God,  whenever  he  may  call  us  to  leave  the 
world;  we  imagine  that  we  have  worthily  ful- 
filled the  duties  of  life,  fought  the  good  fight, 
and  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  forth  the 
hand  to  the  crown  of  righteousness.  "  There 
is  no  fear,"  say  they,  "  of  the  death  of  such  a 
Christian;  he  was  an  Israelite  indeed,  he  was 
an  honest  man,  he  led  a  good  life."  But  what 
is  the  import  of  the  words,  he  led  a  moral  life? 
a  phrase  as  barbarous  in  the  expression  as  er- 
roneous in  the  sense;  for  if  the  phrase  mean 
any  thing,  it  is  that  he  has  fulfilled  the  duties 
of  morality.  But  can  you  bear  this  testimony 
of  the  man  we  have  just  described;  of  a  man 
who  contents  himself  with  avoiding  the  crimes 
accounted  infauious  in  the  world;  but  exclu- 
sively of  that,  he  has  neither  fervour,  nor  zeal, 
nor  patience,  nor  charity?  Is  this  the  man, 
who,  you  say,  has  led  a  moral  life?  What 
then  is  the  morality  which  prescribes  so  broad 
a  path?  Is  it  not  the  morality  of  Jesus  Christ^ 
The  morality  of  Jesus  Christ  recommends  si- 
lence, retirement,  detachment  from  the  world. 
The  morality  of  Jesus  Christ  requires,  that 
you  "  be  merciful,  as  God  is  merciful;  that 
you  be  perfect,  as  your  Father  which  is  in  hea- 
ven is  perfect."  The  morality  of  .îesus  Christ 
requires,  that  you  "  love  God  with  all  your 
heart,  with  all  your  soul,  and  with  all  your 
mind:"  and  that  if  you  cannot  fully  attain  to 
this  degree  of  perfection  on  earth,  you  should 
make  continual  efforts  to  approach  it.  Here 
you  have  the  prcscril)ed  morality  of  Jesua 
Christ.  But  the  morality  of  which  you  speak, 
is  the  morality  of  the  world,  the  morality  of 
the  devil,  the  morality  of  hell.  Will  such  a 
morality  enable  you  to  sustain  the  judgintut 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


249 


of  God?  Will  it  appease  his  justice?  Will  it 
close  the  gates  of  hell?  Will  it  open  the  gates 
of  immortality?  Ah!  let  us  form  better  ideas 
of  religion.  There  is  an  infinite  distance  be- 
tween him,  accounted  by  the  world  an  lioncst 
man,  and  a  real  Christian;  and  if  the  love  of 
God  have  not  been  tiie  predominant  disposi- 
tion of  our  heart,  let  us  tremble,  let  us  weep, 
or  rather  let  us  endeavour  to  reform.  This  is 
the  first  conclusion  we  deduce  from  our  dis- 
course. 

The  second  turns  on  what  we  have  said 
with  regard  to  the  force  of  habits;  on  tlie 
means  of  correcting  the  bad,  and  of  acquiring 
the  good.  Recollect,  that  all  these  tilings 
cannot  be  done  in  a  moment;  recollect,  tliat  to 
succeed,  we  must  be  fixed  and  firm,  returning 
a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  to  the  charge. 
We  should  be  the  more  struck  with  tlie  pro- 
priety of  this,  if,  as  wc  said  in  the  body  of  this 
discourse,  wo  employed  more  time  to  reflect 
on  ourselves.  But  most  people  live  destitute 
of  thought  and  recollection.  We  arc  dissipated 
by  exterior  things,  our  eyes  glance  on  every 
object,  we  ascend  to  the  heavens  to  make  new 
discoveries  among  the  stars,  wo  descend  into 
the  deep,  we  dig  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
we  run  even  from  the  one  to  the  other  world, 
seeking  fortune  in  the  most  remote  regions, 
and  we  are  ignorant  of  what  occurs  in  our 
own  breast.  We  have  a  body  and  a  soul, 
nobtest  works  of  God,  and  we  never  reflect  on 
what  passes  within,  how  knowledge  is  acquir- 
ed, how  prejudices  originate,  how  habits  are 
formed  and  fortified.  If  this  knowledge  served 
merely  for  intellectual  pleasure,  wc  ought  at 
least  to  tax  our  indolence  with  negligence:  but 
being  intimately  connected  with  our  salvation, 
we  cannot  but  deplore  our  indiflercnce.  Let 
us  therefore  study  ourselves,  and  become  ra- 
tional, if  we  would  become  regenerate.  Let 
us  learn  the  important  truth  already  proved, 
that  virtue  is  acquired  only  by  diligence  and 
application. 

Nor  let  it  be  here  objected,  that  we  ought 
not  to  talk  of  Christian  virtues  as  of  the  other 
habits  of  the  soul;  and  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
can  suddenly  and  fully  correct  our  prejudices, 
and  eradicate  our  corrupt  propensities.  With- 
out a  doubt  we  need  his  aid — Yes,  O  Holy 
Spirit,  source  of  eternal  wisdom,  however 
great  may  be  my  efforts  and  vigilance,  wliat- 
ever  endeavours  I  may  use  for  my  salvation,  I 
will  never  trust  to  myself,  never  will  I  "  ofler 
incense  to  my  drag,  or  sacrifice  to  my  net," 
never  will  1  lean  upon  this  "  bruised  reed," 
never  will  1  view  my  utter  insufticiency  with- 
out asking  thy  support. 

But  after  all,  let  us  not  imagine  that  the 
operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  are  like  the  fa- 
bulous enchantments  celebrated  in  our  ro- 
mances and  poets.  We  have  told  you  a  thou- 
sand times,  and  we  cannot  too  often  repeat  it, 
tiiat  grace  never  destroys,  but  perfects  nature. 
The  Spirit  of  God  will  abundantly  irradiate 
your  mind,  if  you  vigorously  apply  to  religious 
contemplation;  but  he  will  not  infuse  the  liglit 
if  you  disdain  the  study.  The  Spirit  of  God 
will  abundantly  establish  the  reign  of  grace  in 
your  heart,  if  you  assiduously  ai)ply  to  tlie 
work;  but  he  will  never  do  it  in  the  midst  of 
dissipation  and  sin.  \Ve  ought  to  endeavour 
Vol.  II.— 32 


to  become  genuine  Christians,  aa  we  endeavour 
to  become  profound  philosophers,  acute  mathe- 
maticians, able  preachers,  enlightened  mer- 
chants, intrepid  commanders,  by  assiduity  and 
labour,  by  close  and  constant  application. 

This  is  perhaps  a  galling  reflection.  I  am 
not  astonished  that  it  is  calculated  to  e.xcite  in 
most  of  you  discouragement  and  fear:  here  is 
the  most  diflîcult  part  of  our  discourse.  The 
doctrines  or  truths  we  discuss  being  unwel- 
come, and  such  as  you  would  gladly  evade,  we 
must  here  suspend  the  thread  of  this  discourse, 
tiiat  you  may  feel  the  importance  of  our  minis- 
try. For,  after  having  established  these  truths, 
we  must  form  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
opinions  concerning  your  conduct,  either  that 
you  do  "  seek  the  Lord  while  he  may  be 
found,"  and  endeavour,  by  a  holy  obstinacy,  to 
establish  truth  in  the  mind,  and  grace  in  the 
heart;  or  that  you  exclude  yourselves  from 
salvation,  and  engage  yourselves  so  afore  in 
the  way  of  destruction,  as  to  occasion  fear  lest 
the  Spirit  of  God,  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
times  insulted,  should  for  ever  withdraw. 

What  do  you  say,  my  brethren?  Which  of 
these  opinions  is  best  founded'  To  what  end 
do  you  live?  Does  this  unremitting  vigilance, 
this  holy  obstinacy,  this  continual  recurrence 
of  watchfulness  and  care,  form  the  object  of 
your  life?  Ah!  make  no  more  problems  of  a 
trutli,  which  will  shortly  be  but  too  well  esta- 
blished. 

Ministers  of  Jesus  Christ,  sent  by  the  God 
of  vengeance,  not  to  plant  only,  but  also  to 
root  out;  to  build,  but  also  to  throw  down; 
Jer.  i.  10,  to  "  proclaim  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord,"  Isa.  Ixi.  2,  but  also  to  blow  the 
alarming  trumpet  of  Zion  in  the  ears  of  the 

people ;  awaken  the  conscience;  brandish 

the  awful  sword  of  Divine  justice;  put  in  full 
effijct  the  most  terrific  truths  of  religion.  In 
prosperous  seasons  the  gospel  supplies  us  with 
sweet  and  consoling  passages;  but  we  should 
now  urge  the  most  efiicacious,  and  not  stay  to 
adorn  the  house  of  God,  when  called  to  extin- 
guish a  fire  which  tlireatcns  its  destruction. 
Yes,  Christians,  did  we  use  concerning  many 
of  you,  any  other  language,  we  should  betray 
the  sentiments  of  our  hearts.  You  suffer  the 
only  period,  proper  for  your  salvation,  to  es- 
cape. You  walk  in  a  dreadful  path,  "  the  end 
tliereof  is  death,"  and  your  way  of  life  tends 
absolutely  to  incapacitate  you  from  tasting  the 
sweetness  of  a  happy  death. 

It  is  true,  if  you  call  in  some  ministers  at  the 
close  of  life,  they  will  periiaps  have  the  weak- 
ness to  promise,  to  the  appearance  of  conver- 
sion, tiiat  grace  which  is  offered  only  to  a  genu- 
ine change  of  heart.  But  we  solemnly  declare, 
that  if,  after  a  life  of  inaction  and  negligence, 
tiiey  shall  speak  peace  to  you  on  a  death-bed, 
you  ought  not  to  depend  on  this  kind  of  pro- 
I  mises.     You  ought  to  class  them  with  those 
'  things  which  ought  not  to  be  credited,  though 
'  "an  angel  from  heaven  should  come  and  preach 
I  them."     Ministers  are  but  men,  and  weak  as 
others.     You  call  us  to  attend  the  dying,  who 
'  have  lived  as  most  of  the  human  kind.    There 
I  we  find  a  sorrowful  family,  a  father  bathed  in 
tears,  a  mother  in  despair:  what  would  you 
have  us  to  do?     Would  you  have  us  speak  ho- 
1  nestly  to  the  sick  maa'    Would  you  have  ua 


250 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


tell  )iiin,  that  all  this  exterior  oC  re|)ciitanco  is 
a  vain  phanluiii  witiiuut  Kuh.stuiicd,  without 
reality?  'J'hiit  anions  a  thousand  Mck  |>ersoiiH, 
whog<H!in  coiiVfrtL'ii  on  aileatli-beil,  we  scarec- 
ly  find  one  wiio  is  really  «-hanired.'  'I'liat  for  one 
degree  of  probability  ol'  the  reality  of  his  con- 
version, we  have  a  thousand  vvhieli  jirove  it  to 
be  extorted?  And  to  sjieak  without  evasion, 
we  presume,  tiiat  in  one  hour  he  will  be  taken 
from  his  dyinjf  bed,  anil  fast  into  the  torments 
of  hell'     We  should  do  this — W(!  should  apply 


You  are  now  precisely  al  the  age  for  salvation, 
you  have  all  the  necessary  dispositions  for  the 
study  of  religious  trutlis,  and  the  subjugation 
of  your  lieart  to  its  laws.  What  penetration, 
what  perception,  what  vivacity,  and  conse- 
quently what  prc|)aration  for  receiving  the 
yoke  of  Christ.  Cherish  those  dispositions, 
and  improve  each  moment  of  a  period  so  pre- 
cious. "  lleniendjer  your  Creator  in  the  days 
of  your  youth,"  Eccles.  .\ii.  1.  .41as,  with  all 
your  acuteness  you  will  liave  enough  to  do  in 


this  last  remedy,  and  no  longer  trille  with  a    sumiounting  the  wicked  proj)ensitics  of  your 
soul  whose  destruction  is  almost  certain.     Jîut  (  heart.     And  what  would  it  be,  if  to  the  depra- 


you   forbid   us,  you  prevent  us;  you  say  that 
such  severe  language  would  injure  the  health 
of  the  sick.     You   do  more;   you  weej),  you 
lament.     At  a  scene  so  atlccting,  we  sol\en  as 
other  men:  we  have  not  resolution  to  add  one 
affliction  to  another;  and  wiiether  from  com- 
passion to  the  dying,  or  |)ity  to  the  living,  we 
talk  of  heaven,  and  afford  tlic  man  hopes  of 
salvation.     But  we  say  again,  we  still  declare 
that  all  these  promises  ought  to  be  suspected; 
they  can  change  neither  the  spirit  of  religion, 
nor  the  nature  of  man.     "  Without  holiness 
no   man   shall   see  the   Lord,"  Ileb.  xii.   14. 
And  those  tears  which  )'ou  shed  on  the  ap- 
proacii  of  death,  that  extorted  submission  to 
tlie  will  of  God,    those  hasty   resolutions  of 
obedience,    are    not   that   holiness.     In    vain 
should  wc    address  you    in   other   language. 
You  yourselves  would  hear  on  your  dying  bed 
an  irreproachable  witness  always  ready  to  con- 
tradict us. — That  witness   is  conscience.     In 
vain  does  the  degenerate  minister  endeavour 
to  afford  the  dying  illusive  hope;  conscience 
speaks  without  disguise.     The  jireacher  says, 
"  Peace,   peace,"  Jer.   vi.    14;  conscience  re- 
plies, "  There  is  no  peace  to  the  w'icked,  saith 
my   God,"  Isa.  Iv.  21.     The   preacher  says, 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  bo  ye 
lift   up,  ye   everlasting   doors,"    Ps.    ,\xiv.   7. 
Conscience  cries,  "  Mountains,  mountains,  fall 
on  us,  and  hide  us  from  the  face  of  him  that 
sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of 
the  Lamb,"  Rev.  vi.  16. 

But,  O  gracious  God,  wliat  are  wc  doing  in 
this  pulpiL'     Arc  wc  come  to  trouble  Israel? 


vity  of  nature,  and  the  force  of  habit,  you 
should  add,  the  grovelling  all  your  life  in  vice.' 
And  you  aged  men,  who  have  already  run 
your  course,  but  who  have  devoted  the  best  of 
your  days  to  the  world:  you  who  seek  the 
Lord  to-day,  groping  your  way,  and  who  are 
making  faint  efforts  in  age  to  withdraw  from 
the  world,  a  heart  of  which  it  has  possession: 
what  shall  wc  say  to  you?  Shall  we  say  that 
your  ruin  is  without  remedy,  that  your  sen- 
tence is  already  pronounced,  that  nothing  now 
remains  but  to  cast  you  headlong  into  the 
abyss  you  have  willingly  prepared  for  your- 
selves? God  forbid  that  we  should  thus  be- 
come the  executioners  of  Divine  vengeance. 
We  address  you  in  the  voice  of  our  prophet. 
"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found." 
Weep  at  tho  remembrance  of  your  past  lives, 
tremble  at  the  thought,  that  God  sends  strong 
delusions  on  those  that  "  obey  not  the  truth." 
Oh!  happy  docility  of  my  youth,  whither  art 
thou  fled?  Ah!  soul  more  burdened  with  cor- 
rui)lion  than  with  tho  weight  of  years:  Ah! 
stupidity,  i)rejudice,  fatal  dominion  of  sin,  you 
are  the  sad  recompense  I  have  derived  from 
serving  the  enemy  of  my  salvation. 

But,  while  you  fear,  hope;  and  hoping,  act: 
at  lea.st,  O!  at  least  the  span  of  life,  which 
God  may  add,  devote  to  your  salvation.  You 
have  abundantly  more  to  do  than  others;  your 
task  is  greater,  and  your  time  is  shorter.  You 
have,  according  to  tiic  prophet,  "  to  turn  your 
feet  unto  the  testimonies  of  the  Lord,"  Ps. 
cxi.x.  59.  But  swim  against  the  stream;  "  en- 
ter in  at  the  strait  gate."     Above  all, — above 


Are  we  .sent  to  curse'     Do  we   preach  to-day  I  all,  ofl'cr  up  fervent  prayers  to  God.    Perhaps, 
only  of  hell,  only  of  devils?     Ah!  my  brethren,  |  moved  by  your  tears,  ho  will   revoke  the  sen- 


there  is  no  attaining  salvation  but  in  tho  way 
which  wc  have  just  prescribed:  it  is  true,  that 
to  the  present  hour  you  have  neglected:  it  is 
true,  that  tho  day  of  vengeance  is  about  to 
succeed  the  day  of  wrath.  But  the  day  of 
vengeance  is  not  yet  come.  You  yet  live,  you 
yet  breathe:  grace  is  yet  offered.  I  hear  the 
voice  of  my  Saviour,  saying,  "  Comfort  ye, 
comfort  ye  my  people,  speak  yc  comfortably 
to  Jerusalem,"  Isa.  .\1.  1.  I  hear  the  delightful 
accents  crying  upon  tiiis  church,  "  (iraco,  grace 
unto  it,"  Zecii.  iv.  "J.  "  How  shall  I  give  thee 
up,  Ephraini?  How  shall  I  deliver  thee,  Is- 
rael? How  shall  I  make  thee  as  Admah?  How 
shall  I  set  thee  as  Zcboim?  Mine  heart  is 
turned  within  me,  my  relentings  are  kindled 
together.  I  will  not  execute  the  fierceness  of 
mine  anger:  I  will  not  return  to  destroy 
Ephraini,"  Ho.s.  .\i.  «,  9.  U  speaks  peculiarly 
to  you,  young  people,  whose  minds  arc  yet  free 
froni  passion  and  prejudice,  whose  chaste  hearts 
liave  not  yet  been  corrupted   by  the  world. 


tenco;  perhaps,  excited  to  compassion  by  your 
misery,  he  will  heal  it  by  his  grace;  perhaps, 
surmounting  by  tho  su[)crnatural  operations  of 
the  Spirit,  the  depravity  of  nature,  he  will  give 
you  thoughts  so  divine,  and  sentiments  so  ten- 
der, that  you  shall  suddenly  be  transformed 
into  new  men. 

To  the  utmost  of  our  power,  let  us  reform. 
There  is  yet  time,  but  that  time  is  perhaps 
more  limited  than  we  think.  After  all,  why 
delay?  Ah!  I  well  sec  what  obstructs.  You 
regard  conversion  as  an  irksome  task,  and  tho 
stale  of  regeneration  as  diificult  and  burden- 
some, which  must  be  entered  into  as  lato  as 
possible.  But  if  you  knew — if  you  knew  the 
gift  of  Gnd! — If  you  knew  the  sweetness  felt 
by  a  man  who  seeks  God  in  his  ordinances, 
who  hears  his  oracles,  who  derives  light  and 
tnitii  from  their  source: — If  you  knew  tho  joy 
of  a  man  transformed  into  the  image  of  his 
Maker,  and  who  daily  engraves  on  his  heart 
some  new  trait  of  the  oll-perf'îct  Being: — If 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


251 


you  know  the  consolation  of  a  Christian,  who 
seeks  his  God  in  prayer,  who  mingles  his  voice 
with  the  voice  of  angels,  and  hegiris  on  earth 
the  sacred  exercises  wliich  shall  one  day  con- 
Btituto  his  eternal  felicity: — If  you  knew  the 
joys  which  succeed  the  bitterness  of  repent- 
ance, when  tlie  sinner,  returning  from  liis  fol- 
ly, prostrates  himself  at  tlie  feet  of  a  merciful 
God,  and  receives  at  the  throne  of  grace,  from 
tlic  Saviour  of  the  world,  the  discharge  of  all 
their  sins,  and  mingling  tears  of  joy  with  tears 
of  grief,  repairs  by  redoubled  affection,  his 
lukewarmness  and  indolence: — If  you  knew 
the  raptures  of  a  soul  j)ersuadcd  of  ils  salva- 
tion, which  places  all  its  hope  within  the  veil, 
as  an  anchor  sure  and  steadfast,  which  bids 
defiance  to  hell  and  the  devil,  which  antici- 
pates the  celestial  delights;  a  soul  "  whicii  is 
already  justified,  already  risen,  already  glorifi- 
ed, already  seated  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ 
Jesus,"  Eph.  ii.  6. 

Ah!  why  should  we  defer  so  glorious  a  task? 
We  ought  to  defer  things  which  are  painful 
and  injurious,  and  when  we  cannot  extricate 
ourselves  from  a  great  calamity,  we  ought  at 
least  to  retard  it  as  much  as  possible.  But  this 
peace,  this  tranquillity,  these  transports,  this 
resurrection,  this  foretaste  of  paradise,  are  they 
to  be  arranged  in  this  class?  Ah  no!  I  will  no 
longer  delay,  O  my  God,  to  keep  thy  com- 
mandments. I  will  "  reach  forth,"  I  will 
"  press  towards  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the 
high  calling,"  Phil.  iii.  14.  Happy  to  have 
formed  such  noble  resolutions!  Happy  to  ac- 
complish them!  Amen.  To  God,  the  Father, 
Son,  and  Spirit,  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever. 
Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXI. 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 

PART  II. 


Isaiah  Iv.  6. 

Seek  ye  tlie  Lord  while  he  may  he  found,  call  ye 

xtpon  him  xrhile  he  is  near. 

It  is  now  some  time,  my  brethren,  if  you 
recollect,  since  we  addressed  you  on  tliis  sub- 
ject. We  proposed  to  bo  less  scrupulous  in 
discussing  the  terms  than  desirous  to  attack 
the  delay  of  conversion,  and  absurd  notions  of 
divine  mercy.  Wo  then  apprised  you,  that 
we  should  draw  our  reflections  from  three 
sources, — from  the  nature  of  man, — from  the 
authority  of  Scripture, — and  from  actual  ex- 
perience. We  began  by  the  first  of  these 
Doints;  to-day  we  intend  to  discuss  the  second; 
Tind  if  Providence  call  us  again  into  this  pul- 
pit, we  will  explain  the  third,  and  give  the 
fijiisiiing  hand  to  the  subject. 

If  you  were  attentive  to  what  we  proposed 
in  our  first  discourse,  if  the  love  of  salvation 
drew  you  to  these  assemblies,  you  would  de- 
rive instruction.  You  would  sensibly  perceive 
the  vain  pretensions  of  those  who  would  in- 
deed labour  to  obtain  salvation,  but  who  always 
delay.  For  what,  I  pray,  is  more  proper  to 
excite  alarm  and  terror  in  the  soul,  negligent 
of  conversion,  tlian  the  single  point  to  which 


we  called  your  attention,  the  study  of  maa' 
What  is  more  proper  to  confound  such  a  man, 
than  to  tell  him,  as  we  then  did,  your  brain 
will  weaken  your  age;  your  mind  will  be  filled 
Willi  notions  foreign  to  religion;  it  will  lose 
with  years,  the  power  of  conversing  with  any 
but  sensible  objects;  and  of  commencing  the 
investigation  of  religious  truths?  What  is 
more  proper  to  save  such  a  man  from  his  pre- 
judices, than  to  remind  him,  that  the  way,  and 
tlio  only  way  of  acquiring  a  habit  is  practice; 
that  virtue  cannot  be  formed  in  the  licart  by  a 
single  wish,  by  a  rash  and  hasty  resolution, 
but  by  repeated  and  persevering  efforts;  that 
the  habit  of  a  vice  strengthens  itself  in  propor- 
tion as  we  indulge  the  crime?  What,  in  short, 
is  more  proper  to  induce  us  to  improve  the 
time  of  health  for  salvation,  than  to  exhibit  to 
him  the  portrait  we  have  drawn  of  a  dying 
man,  stretched  on  a  bed  of  affliction,  labouring 
with  sickness,  troubled  with  phantoms  and  re- 
veries, flattered  by  his  friends,  terrified  with 
death,  and  consequently  incapable  of  execut- 
ing the  work  he  has  deferred  to  this  tragic  pe- 
riod? I  again  repeat,  my  brethren,  if  you  were 
attentive  to  the  discourse  we  delivered,  if  the 
desire  of  salvation  drew  you  to  these  assem- 
blies, there  is  not  one  among  you  that  those 
serious  reflections  would  not  constrain  to  enter 
into  his  heart,  and  to  reform  without  delay  the 
purposes  of  life. 

But  it  may  appear  to  some,  that  wo  narrow 
the  way  to  heaven;  that  the  doctrines  of  faith 
being  above  the  doctrines  of  philosophy,  we 
must  suppress  the  light  of  reason,  and  take 
solely  for  our  guide  in  the  paths  of  piety,  the 
lamp  of  revelation.  We  will  endeavour  to  af- 
ford them  satisfiiction:  we  will  show  that  reli- 
gion, very  far  from  weakening,  strengthens  the 
reflections  which  reason  has  suggested.  We 
will  prove,  that  we  have  said  nothing  but  what 
ought  to  alarm  those  who  delay  conversion, 
and  who  found  the  notion  they  have  formed  of 
the  Divino  mercy,  not  on  the  nature  of  God, 
but  on  the  depraved  propensity  of  their  own 
heart,  and  on  the  impure  system  of  their  lusts. 
These  are  the  heads  of  this  discourse. 

You  will  tell  us,  brethren,  entering  on  this 
discourse,  that  we  arc  little  afraid  of  the  diffi- 
culties of  which  perhaps  it  is  susceptible;  we 
hope  that  the  truth,  notwithstanding  our  weak- 
ness, will  appear  in  all  its  lustre.  But  other 
thoughts  strike  our  mind,  and  they  must  for  a 
moment  arrest  our  course.  We  fear  the  difli- 
culty  of  your  hearts:  we  fear  more:  we  fear 
that  this  discourse,  which  shall  disclose  the 
treasures  of  grace,  will  aggravate  the  condem- 
nation of  those  who  turn  it  into  wantonness: 
we  fear  that  this  discourse,  by  the  abuse  to 
whicli  many  may  expose  it,  will  serve  merely 
as  a  proof  of  the  truths  already  established.  O 
God!  avert  this  dreadful  prediction,  and  may 
the  cords  of  love,  which  thou  so  evidently  em- 
ployest,  draw  and  captivate  our  hearts.  Amen. 

I.  The  Holy  Scriptures  to-day  are  the  source 
from  which  we  draw  our  arguments  to  attack 
the  delay  of  conversion.  Had  we  no  design 
but  to  cite  what  is  positively  said  on  this  sub- 
ject, our  meditation  would  require  no  great  ef- 
forts. We  should  have  but  to  transcribe  a 
mass  of  infallible  decisions,  of  repeated  warn- 
ings, of  terrific  examples,  of  appalling  menaces, 


252 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


with  which  thoy  abound,  and  wliich  they  ad- 
dress to  all  those  wlio  presume  to  delay  con- 
version. AV'c  should  have  to  repeat  this  cau- 
tion of  the  propliet,  "  To-day  if  ye  will  hear 
his  voice  harden  not  your  hearts,"  Ps.  xcv.  7. 
A  caution  he  has  sanctified  by  his  own  exam- 
ple, "  I  made  haste,  and  delayed  not  to  keep 
thy  commandments,"  Ps.  cxix.  60.  We  should 
have  only  to  address  to  you  this  reflection, 
made  by  the  author  of  tiie  second  book  of 
Chronicles:  "  The  Lord  God  of  their  fathers 
sent  to  them  by  his  iDcssengers,  because  he  had 
compassion  on  his  people;  but  they  mocked 
the  messengers  of  God,  and  despised  his  words, 
and  misused  his  prophets,  until  the  wrath  of 
the  Lord  arose  against  his  people  till  there  was 
no  remedy.  Therefore  he  brought  upon  them 
tlie  king  of  the  Clialdees,  who  slew  the  young 
men  with  the  sword.  And  had  no  com[)assion 
upon  young  men  or  maidens,  old  men  or  him 
that  stooped  for  age.  They  burned  the  house 
of  God,  and  brake  down  tiio  wall  of  Jerusa- 
lem, and  burned  all  the  palaces  thereof  with 
fire,"  2  Chron.  xxxvi.  15,  &c.  We  should 
only  have  to  propose  the  declaration  of  Eter- 
nal Wisdom,  "  Because  I  called  and  ye  refused, 
I  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  mock  when 
your  fear  cometh,"  Prov.  i.  26.  We  should 
have  but  to  represent  the  affecting  scene  of  Je- 
sus Ciirist  weeping  over  Jerusalem,  and  say- 
ing, "  O  that  thou  hadst  known,  at  least  in 
this  thy  day,  the  things  that  belong  to  thy 
peace;  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes," 
Luko  xix.  4 1 .  We  should  have  but  to  say  to 
each  of  you,  as  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans:  "  De- 
spiscst  thou  the  riclies  of  his  goodness,  and 
forbearing,  and  long-suflering,  not  knowing 
that  the  goodness  of  God  leadeth  thee  to  re- 
pentance? But  after  thy  hardness  and  impeni- 
tent heart,  treasurest  up  unto  thyself  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath,  and  revelation  of 
the  righteous  judgments  of  God,"  Rom.  ii.  4, 
&c.  And  elsewhere  that  God  sends  strong 
delusion  on  those  who  believe  not  tlie  truth,  to 
believe  a  lie,  2  Thess.  ii.  8.  We  should  have 
but  to  resound  in  this  assembly,  those  awful 
words  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews:  "  If  we 
sin  wilfully  after  we  have  received  the  know- 
ledge of  the  truth,  there  remaineth  no  more 
sacrifice  for  sins,  but  a  certain  fearful  looking 
for  of  judgment,  and  fiery  indignation,  which 
shall  devour  the  adversaries,"  Heb.  x.  26.  For 
if  the  mercy  of  God  is  without  bounds,  if  it  is 
ready  to  receive  the  sinner  the  moment  ho  is 
induced  by  the  fear  of  punishment  to  prostrate 
himself  before  him,  why  is  this  precise  day 
marked  to  hear  the  voice  of  God?  Why  this 
haste?  Why  tiiis  exhausting  of  resources  and 
remedies?  \Vhy  this  strong  delusion?  Why 
this  refusal  to  hear  the  tardy  ])enitenL>  Why 
this  end  of  tlio  days  of  Jerusalem's  visitation? 
Why  this  iieaping  up  of  the  treasures  of  wrath? 
Why  tliis  utter  defect  of  sacrifice  for  sin?  All 
these  passages,  my  brethren,  are  as  so  many 
sentences  against  our  delays,  against  the  con- 
tradictory notions  we  fondly  form  of  the  divine 
mercy,  and  of  whici»  we  foolishly  avail  our- 
selves in  order  to  sleep  in  our  sins. 

All  these  things  being  hereby  evident  and 
clear,  wo  stop  not  fur  farther  explication,  but 
proceed  with  our  discourse.  When  wo  em- 
ployed philosophical    arguments    against  the 


delay  of  conversion;  when  we  prove  from  the 
force  of  habit.s,  that  it  is  difficult,  not  to  say 
impossible,  for  a  man  aged  in  crime»,  to  be 
converted  at  the  hour  of  death;  it  appeared 
to  you,  that  we  shook  two  doctrines  which  are 
in  fact  the  two  fundamental  pillars  of  your 
faith. 

The  first  is  the  supernatural  aids  of  the  Ho- 
ly Spirit,  promised  in  the  new  covenant;  aids 
which  bend  the  most  rebellious  wills,  aids 
which  can  surmount  in  a  moment  all  the  diffi- 
culties which  the  force  of  habit  may  oppose  to 
conversion. 

The  second  doctrine  is  that  of  mercy,  accesB 
to  which  being  opened  by  the  blood  of  Christ, 
there  is  no  period  it  seems  but  we  may  be  ad- 
mitted whenever  we  come,  tliough  at  the  close 
of  life.  Here  is,  in  substance,  if  I  mistake 
not,  the  whole  of  what  religion  and  the  Scrip- 
tures seem  to  oppose  to  what  has  been  advanc- 
ed in  our  first  discourse.  If  we  make  it  there- 
fore evident,  that  tlicse  two  doctrines  do  not 
oppose  our  principles;  if  we  prove,  that  they 
contain  nothing  directly  repugnant  to  the  con- 
clusions we  have  drawn,  shall  we  not  thereby 
demonstrate,  that  the  Scriptures  contain  no- 
thing but  what  should  alarm  those  who  trust 
to  a  tardy  repentance.  This  we  undertake  to 
develope.  The  subject  is  not  without  difficul- 
ty; we  have  to  steer  between  two  rocks  equal- 
ly dangerous;  for  if,  on  the  one  hand,  we 
sliould  supersede  those  doctrines,  we  abjure  the 
faith  of  our  fathers,  and  draw  upon  ourselves 
the  charge  of  heterodoxy.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  we  should  stretch  tliose  doctrines  beyond  a 
certain  point,  we  furnish  a  plea  for  licentious- 
ness: we  sap  what  we  have  built,  and  refute 
ourselves.  Both  these  rocks  wo  must  cau- 
tiously avoid. 

The  first  proofs  of  which  people  avail  them- 
selves, to  excuse  their  negligence  and  delay, 
and  the  first  arguments  of  defence,  which  they 
draw  from  the  Scriptures,  in  order  to  oppose 
us,  are  taken  from  the  aids  of  the  Spirit,  pro- 
mised in  the  new  covenant.  "  Why  those 
alarming  sermons?"  say  they.  "  Why  those 
awful  addresses,  to  the  sinner  who  defers  his 
conversion?  Why  confound,  in  this  way,  reli- 
gious with  natural  habits?"  The  latter  are 
formed,  I  grant,  by  labour  and  study;  by  per- 
severing and  uninterrupted  assiduity.  The 
former  proceed  from  extraneous  aids;  they  are 
the  productions  of  grace,  formed  in  the  soul  by 
the  Holy  Spirit.  1  will  not,  therefore,  invali- 
date a  doctrine  so  consolatory;  I  will  profit  by 
the  prerogatives  of  Christianity;  I  will  devote 
my  life  to  the  world;  and  when  I  perceive  my- 
self ready  to  expire,  1  will  assume  the  charac- 
ter of  a  Christian.  I  will  surrender  myself 
to  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  and  then 
ho  shall,  according  to  his  promise,  communi-t 
cafe  his  powerful  influence  to  my  heart;  he 
siiall  subdue  my  wicked  propensities,  eradicate 
my  most  inveterate  habits,  and  efl'octuate,  in  a 
moment,  what  would  have  cost  me  so  much 
labour  and  pain.  Hero  is  an  objection,  which 
most  sinners  have  not  the  effrontery  to  avow, 
but  which  a  false  theology  cherishes  in  too 
many  minds;  and  on  which  we  found  nearly  tlie 
whole  of  our  imaginary  hopes  of  a  death-bed 
conversion. 

To  this  objection  we  are  bound  to  reply. 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


253 


We  proceed  to  make  manifest  its  absurdity,  1. 
By  the  ministry  God  has  established  in  tlie 
church.  2.  By  the  efforts  he  requires  us  to 
make,  previously  to  our  being  satisfied  that  we 
have  received  the  Holy  Spirit.  3.  By  the 
manner  in  which  lie  requires  us  to  co-operate 
with  the  Spirit,  when  we  have  received  him. 
4.  By  the  punishment  he  has  denounced  against 
those  who  resist  his  work.  5.  By  tlie  conclu- 
sions which  the  Scripture  itself  deduces  from 
our  natural  weakness,  and  from  the  neces.sity 
of  grace.  Here,  my  brethren,  are  five  sources 
of  reflection,  which  amount  to  demonstration, 
that  every  man  who  draws  consequences  from 
the  promised  aids  of  the  Spirit,  to  live  in  luke- 
warmness,  and  to  flatter  himself  with  acquir- 
ing, without  labour,  without  diflirulty,  without 
application,  habits  of  holiness,  otfers  violence  to 
religion,  and  is  unacquainted  with  the  genius 
of  the  Holy  Spirit's  economy. 

The  ministry  established  in  the  church,  is 
the  first  proof  that  the  aids  of  the  Spirit  give 
no  countenance  to  lukewarmncss,  and  the  de- 
lay of  conversion.  Had  it  been  the  design  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  to  communicate  knowledge, 
without  the  fatigue  of  religious  instruction; 
had  it  been  his  design  to  sanctify,  in  a  moment, 
without  requiring  our  co-operation  in  this 
great  work,  why  establish  a  ministry  in  the 
church?  Why  require  us  in  infancy  to  be 
taught  "  line  upon  line,  and  precept  upon  pre- 
cept," as  Isaiah  expresses  himself,  Isa.  xxxviii. 
10.  Why,  as  St.  Paul  says,  require  us  after- 
ward to  "  leave  the  principles  of  the  doctrines 
of  Christ,  and  go  on  to  perfection?"  Heb.  vi.  1. 
Why  require,  as  the  same  apostle  says,  that 
we  proceed  from  "  milk  to  strong  meat?" 
1  Cor.  iii.  2.  Why  require  to  propose  motives, 
and  address  exhortations?  Why  are  we  not 
enlightened  and  sanctified  without  means, 
without  ministers,  without  the  Bible,  without 
the  ministry?  Why  act  exactly  in  the  science 
of  salvation,  as  in  the  sciences  of  mea'  For, 
when  we  teach  a  science  to  a  man,  we  adapt 
it  to  his  capacity,  to  his  genius,  and  to  his  me- 
mory; so  God  requires  us  to  do  with  regard  to 
men.  "  Faith  comes  by  hearing,"  says  St. 
Paul,  "  and  hearing  by  the  word,"  Rom.  x.  11. 
"  Being  ascended  up  on  high,  he  gave  some  to 
be  apostles,  and  some  prophets,  and  some  evan- 
gelists, and  some  pastors  and  teachers,  for  the 
perfecting  of  the  saints,  for  the  work  of  the 
ministry  (mark  the  expression,)  for  the  edify- 
ing of  the  body  of  Christ,"  Eph.  iv.  11,  12. 
Perceive  you  not,  therefore,  the  impropriety 
of  your  pretensions?  Seeing  it  has  been  God's 
good  pleasure  to  establish  a  ministry,  do  you 
not  conceive  that  he  would  have  you  regard  it 
with  deference?  Seeing  he  has  opened  the 
gates  of  these  temples,  do  you  not  conceive  that 
he  requires  you  to  enter  his  courts?  Seeing  he 
has  enjoined  us  to  preach,  do  you  not  conceive 
that  he  requires  you  to  hear?  Seeing  he  re- 
quires you  to  hear,  do  you  not  conceive  that 
he  likewise  requires  you  to  comprehend?  See- 
ing he  commands  us  to  impress  you  with  mo- 
tives, would  he  not  have  you  feel  their  force? 
Do  you  think  he  has  any  other  object  in  view? 
Show  us  a  man,  who  lias  lived  eighty  years 
without  meditation  and  piety,  that  has  instan- 
taneously become  a  good  divine,  a  faithful 
Christian,  perfected  in  holiness  and  piety.     Do 


you  not  perceive,  on  the  contrary,  that  the 
youth  who  learns  Iiis  catechism  with  care,  be- 
comes a  good  catechumen;  that  the  candidate 
who  profoundly  studies  divinity,  becomes  an 
able  divine;  and  that  the  Christian,  who  endea- 
vours to  subdue  his  passions,  obtains  the  vic- 
tory over  himself?  Hence,  the  Holy  Spirit  re- 
quires you  to  use  exertions.  Hence,  when 
we  exhorted  you  to  become  genuine  Christians, 
with  the  same  application  that  we  use  to  be- 
come enlightened  merchants,  meritorious  offi- 
cers, acute  mathematicians,  and  good  preach- 
ers, by  assiduity  and  study,  by  labour  and  ap- 
plication, we  advanced  nothing  inconsistent 
with  the  genius  of  our  religion.  Hence,  he 
who  draws  from  the  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
conclusions  to  remain  inactive,  and  defer  the 
work  of  salvation,  oflers  violence  to  the  econo- 
my of  grace,  and  supersedes  the  design  of  the 
ministry  God  has  established  in  his  church. 
This  is  our  first  reflection. 

We  liave  marked,  secondly,  the  efforts  that 
God  requires  us  to  use  to  obtain  the  grace  of 
tlie  Holy  Sjjirit,  when  we  do  nf)t  account  our- 
selves as  yet  to  have  received  them.  For  it  is 
fully  admitted  that  God  required  us,  at  least, 
to  ask.  The  Scriptures  are  very  express.  "  If 
any  man  lack  wisdom  let  him  ask  of  God," 
Jam.  i.  5;  "seek,  and. ye  shall  find;  knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened,"  Matt.  vii.  7.  And,  if 
we  are  required  to  ask,  we  are  also  obliged  to 
use  efforts,  however  weak  and  imperfect,  to 
obtain  the  grace  we  ask.  For,  with  what  face 
can  we  ask  God  to  assist  us  in  the  work  of 
salvation,  when  we  deliberately  seek  our  own 
destruction?  With  what  face  can  we  ask  God 
not  to  lead  us  into  temptation,  and  we  our- 
selves rush  into  temptation,  and  greedily  riot 
in  sin?  With  what  face  can  we  ask  him  to 
extinguish  the  fire  of  concupiscence,  when  we 
daily  converse  with  objects  which  inflame  it? 

We  ought,  therefore,  to  conduct  ourselves, 
with  regard  to  the  work  of  salvation,  as  we  do 
with  regard  to  life  and  health.  In  vain  should 
we  try  to  preserve  tliein,  did  not  God  extend 
his  care:  nature,  and  the  elements,  all  con- 
spire for  our  destruction;  we  should  vanish  of 
our  own  accord;  God  alone  can  retain  the 
breath  which  preserves  our  life.  Asa,  king  of 
Israel,  was  blamed  for  having  had  recourse  to 
physicians,  without  having  first  inquired  of  the 
Lord.  But  should  we  not  be  fools,  if,  from  a 
notion  that  God  alone  can  preserve  our  life, 
we  should  cast  ourselves  into  a  pit;  abandon 
ourselves  to  the  waves  of  the  sea,  take  no  food 
when  healtiiy,  and  no  medicine  when  sick? 
Thus,  in  the  work  of  salvation,  we  should  do 
the  same;  imploring  the  grace  of  God  to  aid 
our  endeavours.  We  should  follow  tlie  exam- 
ple of  Moses,  when  attacked  by  Amalek;  ho 
shared  with  Joshua  the  task  of  victory.  Mo- 
ses ascended  the  hill,  Joshua  descended  into 
the  plain:  Joshua  fought,  Moses  prayed:  Mo- 
ses raised  his  suppliant  hands  to  heaven,  Jo- 
shua raised  a  warrior's  arm:  Moses  opposed 
his  fervour  to  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  Joshua 
opposed  his  courage  and  arms  to  the  enemy  of 
Israel:  and,  by  this  judicious  concurrence  of 
praying  and  fighting,  Israel  triumphed  and 
Amalek  fled. 

Observe,  thirdly,  the  manner  in  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  requires  correspondent  co-operation 


254 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI 


from  U9,  as  the  objects  of  his  care.  In  display- 
ing his  cfHcacy  in  the  heart,  ho  pretends  not 
to  deal  witii  us  as  with  stocks  and  stones. 
It  is  an  excellent  sentence  of  Augustine; 
"  God,  who  made  us  without  ourselves,  will 
not  save  us  without  ourselves."  Hence  the 
Scripture  commonly  joins  these  two  things, 
the  work  of  God  in  our  conversion,  and  the 
correspondent  duty  of  man.  "  To-day  if  ye 
will  hear  his  voice,"  here  is  the  work  of  God, 
"  harden  not  your  hearts."  Ps.  xcv.  8.  Here 
is  the  duty  of  man.  "  You  are  sealed  by  tiie 
Holy  Spirit."  Eph.  iv.  30.  Here  is  the  work 
of  God.  "  Grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit."  Here 
is  the  duty  of  man.  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the 
door  and  knock."  Rev.  v.  20.  Here  is  the 
work  of  God.  "  If  any  man  hear  my  voice 
and  open."  Here  is  the  duty  of  man.  "God 
worketh  in  us  to  will  and  to  do."  Phil.  ii.  12. 
Here  is  the  work  of  God.  "  Work  out  your 
own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."  Here 
is  the  duty  of  man.  "  I  will  take  away  the 
stony  heart  out  of  your  flesh,  and  I  will  give 
you  a  heart  of  flesh."  Ezek.  xi.  19.  Here  is 
the  work  of  God.  "  Make  you  a  new  heart, 
and  a  new  spirit."  Ezek.  xviii.  31.  Here,  the 
duty  of  man.  What  avail  all  these  expressions, 
if  it  were  merely  the  design  of  Scripture  in 
promising  grace  to  favour  our  lukewarmness 
and  flatter  our  delay  of  conversion?  What  are 
the  duties  it  prescribes,  except  those  very  du- 
ties, the  necessity  of  wliich  we  have  proved, 
when  speaking  of  habits?  What  is  this  cau- 
tion, not  to  harden  the  heart  against  the  voice 
of  God,  if  it  is  not  to  pay  deference  to  all  the 
commands?  Wiiat  is  the  precept,  "  Grieve  not 
the  Holy  Spirit,"  but  to  yield  to  whatever  lie 
deigns  to  teacli?  What  is  it  to  open  to  God, 
who  knocks  at  the  door  of  our  heart,  if  it  is 
not  to  hear  when  he  speaks,  to  come  when  lie 
calls,  to  yield  when  he  entreats,  to  tremble 
when  he  threatens,  and  to  hope  when  he  pro- 
mises? Wliat  is  this  "working  out  our  salva- 
tion with  fear  and  trembling,"  if  it  is  not  to 
have  this  continual  vigilance,  these  salutary 
cautions,  these  weighty  cares,  the  necessity  of 
which  we  have  proved? 

Our  fourth  reflection  is  derived  from  tlie 
threatenings,  whicii  God  denounces  against 
those  who  refuse  to  co-operate  with  the  eco- 
nomy of  grace.  Tlie  Spirit  of  God,  you  say, 
will  be  stronger  than  your  obstinacy,  lie  will 
surmount  your  propensities;  he  will  triumph 
over  your  opposition;  grace  will  become  vic- 
torious, and  save  you  in  defiance  of  nature. — 
Nay,  rather  tliis  grace  shall  be  withdrawn,  if 
you  ])ersist  in  your  contempt  of  it.  Nay,  ra- 
ther tliis  Spirit  shall  abandon  you,  after  a 
course  of  ob-slinacy  to  your  own  way.  He  re- 
sumes tlic  one  talent  from  tlie  unfaithful  ser- 
vant, who  neglects  to  improve  it;  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  passage  already  cited,  God  sends  on 
those,  who  obey  not  tiie  truth,  strong  delusion 
to  believe  a  lie,  2  Thess.  ii.  10,  11.  Hence, 
St.  Paul  draws  this  conclusion:  "  Stand  fast, 
and  hold  llie  traditions  wiiich  ye  have  been 
taught,  whctlier  by  word,  or  l)y  our  epistle." 
And  elsewhere  it  is  said,  "  Tliat  servant  who 
know  his  lord's  will,  and  did  it  not,  shall  be 
beaten  with  many  stripes,"  Luko  xii.  47.  And 
tiie  author  of  tho  Epistle  Ui  tlx!  Hebrews  af- 
firms,  "  That  it  is  impussiblu  fur  those  who 


were  once  enlightened,  if  they  fall  away,  to  re- 
new them  again  unto  repentance,"  Heb.  ii.  4 
1  am  aware  that  tiie  apostle  had  particularly 
in  view  tlie  sin  of  tliose  Jews  who  had  embrac- 
ed the  gusjiel,  and  alijured  it  through  apostacy 
or  prejudice.  We  ought,  however,  to  deduce 
this  conclusion,  that  when  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
enabled  us  to  attain  a  certain  degree  of  light 
and  purity,  if  we  relapse  into  our  courses,  we 
cease  to  be  the  objects  of  his  regard. 

6.  But  why  this  muss  of  various  arguments, 
to  show  the  absurdity  of  tlie  sinner,  who  ex- 
cuses himself  on  the  ground  of  weakness,  and 
indolently  awaits  tiie  operations  of  grac&'  We 
have  a  siiorter  way  to  confound  the  sinner,  and 
resolve  tlie  sopliism  adduced  by  his  depravity. 
Let  us  open  the  sacred  books;  let  us  see  what 
conclusions  the  Scriptures  draw  from  the  doc- 
trine of  human  weakness,  and  the  promised  aids 
of  grace.  If  these  consequences  coincide  with 
yours,  we  give  up  the  cause;  but,  if  they  clash, 
you  ought  to  acknowledge  your  error.  Show 
us  a  single  passage  in  the  Bible  where  we  find 
arguments  similar  to  those  we  refute.  Show 
us  one  passage,  where  the  Scriptures,  having 
asserted  your  weakness,  and  the  aids  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  conclude  from  these  maxims,  that 
you  ouglit  to  continue  in  indolence.  Is  it  not 
evident,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  draw  con- 
clusions directly  opposite? — Among  many  pas- 
sages, I  will  select  two:  tiie  one  is  a  caution  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  other  an  argument  of  St. 
Paul.  "  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation;  for  the  spirit  is  willing,  but 
tlie  flesli  is  weak,"  Mark  xiii.  33.  This  is  the 
caution  of  Christ.  "  Work  out  your  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling:  for  it  is  God  that 
worketh  in  you  to  will  and  to  do,"  Phil.  ii. 
12,  13.  This  is  the  argument  of  St.  Paul. 
Had  we  advanced  a  sophism,  when,  after  hav- 
ing established  the  frailty  of  human  nature, 
and  tho  necessity  of  grace,  wo  founded,  on 
those  very  doctrines,  the  motives  which  ought 
to  induce  you  to  diligence,  and  prompt  you  to 
vigilance;  it  was  a  sophism,  for  which  the 
Scriptures  are  responsible.  "The  spirit  is 
willing,  but  tlio  flesh  is  weak:"  here  is  the 
principle  of  Jesus  Clirist.  "  God  worketh  in 
)'ou  to  will  and  to  do:"  here  is  the  principle 
of  St.  Paul.  "  Work  out  your  salvation:" 
liero  is  the  consequence.  Are  you,  therefore, 
actuated  by  a  spirit  of  ortliodo.xy  and  truth, 
when  you  exclaim  against  our  sermons'  Are 
you  then  more  orthodox  than  tlie  Holy  Ghost, 
or  more  correct  than  eternal  truth?  Or  rather, 
whence  is  it  tiiat  you,  being  orthodox  in  the 
first  inembcr  of  tiie  proposition  of  our  authors, 
become  heretics  in  tho  second?  Why  ortho- 
dox in  the  principle,  and  heretics  in  tho  con- 
sequence? 

Collect  now,  my  brethren,  the  whole  of  these 
five  arguments;  open  your  eyes  to  the  light, 
connnunicated  from  all  points,  in  order  to  cor- 
rect your  prejudice;  and  see  how  superficial 
is  the  man  wlio  draws  from  human  weakness, 
and  the  aids  of  tlic  Spirit,  motives  to  defer  con- 
version. The  Holy  Spirit  works  witliin  us,  it 
is  true;  but  he  works  in  concurrence  with  the 
word  and  the  ministry,  in  sending  you  pastors, 
in  accompanying  their  word  with  wisdom, 
their  exhortation  with  imction,  tlieir  weakness 
with  power:    and  you — you  who  have  never 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


255 


read  this  word,  wlio  liave  alwcntcd  yourselves 
from  tliis  niiiiiHtry,  wlio  liave  not  wished  to 
hear  these  discourses,  who  have  paid  no  defer- 
ence to  these  cautions,  nor  submission  to  tliis 
power,  would  you  have  the  Holy  Spirit  to  con- 
vert you  by  means  unknown,  and  beyond  the 
limits   of   his   o])erations?     The    Holy   Si)irit 
works  within  us,   it  is  true:  hut  he  rc(]uires 
that  wc  should  seek  and  ask  those  aids,  niakinjr 
efforts,  imperlect  efforts,  to  sanctify  ourselves: 
and  would  you  wish  him  to  convert  you,  while 
you  neglect  to  seek,  while  you  disdain  to  ask; 
to  say  the  least,  while  you  jrive  uji  yourselves 
to  inaction  and  supineness?     Tlio  lloly  Spirit 
works  within  us,  it  is  true;  but  ho  requires  that 
we   act   in   concert  with    his   grace,  that  we 
second  his  operations,  and  yield  to  his  entrea- 
ties: and  would  you  wish  liim  to  convert  you, 
while  you  harden  yourselves  against  his  voice, 
while    you   never   cease   from   grieving  him? 
The  Holy  Spirit  works  within  us,  it  is  true; 
but  ho  declares  that,  if  we  obstinately  resist, 
he  will  leave  us  to  ourselves;  he  will  refuse  the 
aids  he  has  offered  in  vain;  he  will  abandon  us 
to  our  natural  stuj)idity  and  corruption;  and 
you,  already  come  to  the  crisis  of  vengeance, 
to  tlic  epoch  for  accomplisiiing  his  wrath,  to 
the  termination  of  a  criminal  career,  can  you 
presume  that  this  Spirit  will  «adopt  for  you  a 
new  economy,  and  work  a  miracle  in  your 
favour?     The  Holy  Spirit  works  within  us,  it 
is  true;  but  thence  it  is  concluded  in  our  Scrip- 
tures, that  we  .ought  to  work,  that  we  ought 
to  labour,  that  we  ought  to  apply  to  the  con- 
cerns of  salvation  our  strength   of  body,  our 
facility  of  conception,  our  retention  of  me- 
mory, our  presence  of  mind,  our  vivacity  of 
genius:  and  you  who  devote  this  mind,  tiiis 
genius,    tliis    memory,    this    conception,    this 
health,  wholly  to  the  world,  do  you  derive 
from  these  very  sermons  sanction  for  an  indo- 
lence and  a  delay,  which  the  very  idea  of  those 
talents  ought  to  correct?     If  this  be  not  wrest- 
ing the  Scriptures,  if  this  be  not  oflering  vio- 
lence to  religion,  and  subverting  the  design  of 
the  Spirit  in  the  discovery  of  our  natural  weak- 
ness, and  the  promised  aids  of  grace,  we  must 
be  proof  against  the  most  palpable  demonstra- 
tion. 

Enough,  I  think,  has  been  said,  to  establish 
our  first  proposition,  that  the  aids  of  God's 
Spirit  confirm  the  necessity  of  discharging  the 
offices  of  piety,  in  order  to  acquire  the  habit; 
and  tiiat  the  difficulties  adduced,  are  all  con- 
verted into  proofs,  in  favour  of  wiiat  they 
seemed  to  destroy.  These  are  also,  according 
to  us,  the  pure  divinity,  and  the  truths  which 
ought  to  resound  in  our  protestant  auditories. 
Happy,  indeed,  were  the  doctors,  if,  instead  of 
multiplying  questions  and  disputations,  they 
had  endeavoured  to  press  these  important 
truths.  O,  my  soul,  lose  not  thyself  in  abstract 
and  knotty  speculations;  fathom  not  the  mys- 
terious means  which  God  adopts  to  penetrate 
the  heart.  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  list- 
eth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but 
canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  or  whither  it 
goeth:  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  tlie  Spirit." 
John  iii.  8.  "  Pride  goeth  before  destruction, 
and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall."  Prov.  xvi. 
18.  "  Belbro  destruction  the  heart  of  man  is 
haughty,  and  before  honour  is  liuinility,"  xviii. 


12.  Content  thyself  with  adoring  the  good- 
ness of  God,  who  promises  thee  assistance,  and 
deigns  to  surmount  by  grace  the  corruptions 
of  nature.  But,  while  thou  groanest  under  a 
sense  of  thy  corruption,  endeavour  to  surmount 
and  vanquish  thyself;  draw  from  God's  pro- 
rniscg,  motives  for  thy  own  sanctification  and 
in.struction;  and  even  when  thou  sayest,  I  am 
nothing,  I  can  do  nothing,  act  as  though  the 
whole  depended  on  thyself,  and  as  though  thou 
couidest  "  do  all  things." 

II.  The  notion  of  the  aids  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  was  the  first  source  of  illusion  we  havo 
had  to  attack.  The  notion  of  the  mercy  of 
God  is  a  second,  on  which  we  shall  also  pro- 
ceed to  reflect.  "  God  is  merciful,"  say  they, 
"  the  covenant  he  has  established  with  man,  is 
a  covenant  of  grace:  we  are  not  come  to  the 
darkness,  to  the  devouring  fire,  and  the  tern- 
pest.  A  general  amnesty  is  granted  to  the 
wicked.  Hence,  though  our  conversion  be  de- 
fective, God  will  receive  our  dying  breath, 
and  yield  to  our  tears.  What,  then,  should 
deter  us  from  giving  free  scope  to  our  passions, 
and  deferring  the  rigorous  duties  of  conversion, 
till  we  are  nothing  worth  for  the  world?" 

Strange  argument!  Detestable  sophism,  my 
brethren!  Here  is  the  highest  stage  of  corrup- 
tion, the  supreme  degree  of  ingratitude.  What 
do  I  say?  For  though  a  man  be  ungrateful, 
he  discovert'  sensibility  and  acknowledgement, 
for  the  moment  at  least,  on  the  reception  of  a 
favour.  Forgetfulness  and  ingratitude  are  oc- 
casioned by  other  objects,  which  time  and  the 
world  have  presented  to  the  mind,  and  which 
have  obliterated  the  recollection  of  past  favours. 
Eut  behold,  in  the  argument  of  the  sinner,  a 
manœuvre  of  a  novel  kind;  he  acquires  the  un- 
happy art  of  embracing,  in  the  bosom  of  his  in- 
gratitude, the  present  and  the  future;  the  fa- 
vours already  received,  and  tiiose  which  are 
yet  to  come.  "  I  will  be  ungrateful  beforehand. 
I  will,  from  this  instant,  misuse  the  favours  I 
have  not  as  yet  received.  In  each  of  my  acts 
of  vice,  I  will  recollect  and  anticipate  the  fa- 
vours which  God  shall  one  day  give;  and  I 
will  derive,  from  this  consideration,  a  fresh 
motive  to  confirm  myself  in  revolt,  and  to  sin 
with  assurance."  Is  not  this  extreme  of  cor- 
ruption and  ingratitude  the  most  detestable? 

But  it  is  not  suflicient  to  attack  this  system 
by  arguments  of  equity  and  decency;  this  would 
be  to  make  of  man  a  portrait  too  flattering,  by 
inducing  a  belief  that  he  is  sensible  of  motives 
so  noble.  This  would  effect  the  wicked  little 
more  than  saying,  you  are  very  ungrateful  if 
you  persist  in  vice.  The  author  of  our  religion 
knew  the  human  heart  too  well,  to  leave  it 
unopposed  by  the  strongest  banks.  Let  us 
extend  our  hypothesis,  and  demonstrate,  that 
those  who  reason  thus  build  upon  false  princi- 
ples, on  assurance  of  mercy,  to  which  they  have 
no  possible  claim.  Hence,  to  find  a  compas- 
sionate God,  they  must  "  seek  him  while  he 
may  be  found,  and  call  upon  him  while  he  is 
near." 

Here  a  scholastic  method,  and  a  series  of 
questions  discussed  in  the  schools,  would  per- 
haps be  acceptable,  did  we  address  an  auditory 
of  learned  doctors,  ready  to  oppose  us  with 
their  arguments  and  proofs.  But  we  will  not 
disturb  tlie  repose  of  these  disputes  and  con- 


250 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[See.  LXXXI. 


troversies;  wo  will  reduce  all  we  have  to  ad- 
vance to  terms  tlie  most  plain,  and  questions 
the  most  simple,  and  ask  two  things — Is  the 
mercy  of  God  offered  in  the  gospel,  offered  ab- 
Bolutcly  and  without  conditions?  And  if  it 
have  prescribed  conditions,  are  tliey  of  a  na- 
ture, to  which  you  can  instantaneously  con- 
form on  a  death-bed,  after  liaving  run  a  crimi- 
nal career?     Hero  is  a  second  question. 

On  the  idea  you  may  form  of  these  ques- 
tions, will  depend  tlie  opinion  you  ought  to 
liave  of  a  man,  who  claims  admission  to  the 
throne  of  mercy,  after  a  dissipated  life.  For 
if  the  gospel  is  a  definitive  covenant,  requiring 
nothing  of  man;  or  if  its  requisitions  are  so 
easy,  that  a  wisii,  a  tear,  a  superficial  repent- 
ance, a  slight  recourse  to  piety,  is  suflicient, 
your  argument  is  demonstrative,  and  our  mo- 
rality is  too  severe.  Profit  by  a  religion  so  ac- 
commodating; cease  to  anticipate  an  awful  fu- 
turity; and  reduce  the  whole  gospel  to  mere 
request  for  grace.  But,  if  the  gospel  is  a  con- 
ditional covenant;  and  if  the  conditions  on 
which  grace  is  offered,  are  of  a  nature  that  re- 
quire time,  labour  and  application;  and  if  the 
conditions  become  impracticable,  wiien  deferred 
too  long,  then  your  argument  is  false,  and  your 
conduct  altogetiier  absurd. 

Now,  my  brethren,  I  appeal  to  the  con- 
science of  the  most  profligate  sinners,  and  to 
casuists  minutely  scrupulous.  Can  one  ration- 
ally hesitate  to  decide  on  the  two  questions? 
And  will  it  be  difficult  to  prove,  on  tiie  one 
hand,  that  the  gospel,  in  offering  mercy,  im- 
poses certain  duties;  and,  on  the  other,  that  we 
reduce  ourselves  to  an  evident  incapacity  of 
compliance,  when  conformity  is  deferred? 

I.  Say  tiiat  the  gospel  is  a  definitive  cove- 
nant, and  you  save  us  the  trouble  of  attacking 
and  refuting  an  assertion  wliicii  contradicts  it- 
Belf— for  the  very  term  covenant,  implies  a  mu- 
tual contract  between  two  parties;  otherwise  it 
would  overturn  a  thousand  express  testimonies 
of  Scripture,  whicli  we  avoid  recitins,  because 
we  presume  they  are  well  known  to  our  au- 
dience. 

n.  The  whole  question  then  is  reduced  to 
this,  to  know  what  are  the  stipulated  condi- 
tions. We  are  all  agreed  as  to  the  terms. 
This  condition  is  a  disposition  of  the  soul, 
which  the  Scriptures  sometimes  call  faith  and 
sometimes  repentance.  Not  to  dwell  on  terms, 
we  ask  what  is  tiiis  faith,  and  wiiat  is  this  re- 
pentance, which  opens  access  to  the  throne  of 
grace?  In  what  do  tliese  virtues  consist'  Is  the 
whole  im[)lied  in  a  simple  desire  to  be  saved? 
In  a  mere  desire  to  participate  in  tlie  benefits 
of  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ?  Or,  if /ai//i  and 
repentance  include,  in  their  nature,  the  renun- 
ciation of  the  world,  the  forsaking  of  sin,  a 
total  change  of  life,  an  inward  disposition,  in- 
ducing us  to  accept  all  the  benefits  procured  by 
the  cross  of  Christ,  does  it  not  prompt  us  sin- 
cerely, and  Willi  an  honest  mind,  to  detest  the 
crimes  wliicli  nailed  him  to  it?  In  a  word,  is  it 
sufficient  for  tlic  penitent  to  say  on  a  death-bed, 
"  I  desire  to  bo  savful;  1  acknowledge  that  my 
Redeemer  has  died  fir  my  sins;"  or  must  he 
subjoin  to  these  confessions,  sentiments  propor- 
tioned to  tiio  sanctity  of  the  salvation  which  he 
demands;  and  cra<li(ate  the  crimes,  for  which 
Jesua  Christ  has  made  atonemcuL'' 


I  confess,  my  brethren,  that  I  discuss  these 
subjects  with  regret.  I  fear  that  those  of  other 
communions,  who  may  be  present  in  this  as- 
seml)ly,  will  be  offended  at  this  discourse;  and 
publish,  to  the  sliainc  of  the  reformed  churches, 
that  it  is  still  a  disputable  point  with  us,  whe- 
ther tiie  renunciation  of  vice,  and  adherence  to 
virtue,  ought  to  be  included  in  the  notions  of 
faith,  and  in  the  conditions  we  prescribe  to 
penitents.  "  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not 
in  Askelou,"  2  Sam.  i.  20.  There  arc  ignorant 
persons  in  every  society:  we  have  them  also  in 
our  communion.  There  are  members  in  each 
denomination,  who  subvert  the  most  generally 
received  principles  of  their  profession:  we  also 
have  persons  of  this  description.  There  are 
none  but  captious  men;  none  but  fools:  none 
but  degenerate  protestants,  presume  to  enter- 
tain those  relaxed  notions  of  faith  and  repent- 
ance. 

A  good  protestant  believes  with  our  sacred 
authors,  that  "  he  who  confes.seth  and  forsaketh 
his  sins,  shall  find  mercy,"  Prov.  xxviii.  13. 
That  with  God  there  is  forgiveness,  that  he 
may  be  feared,"  Ps.  cxxx.  4.  "  That  God  will 
speak  peace  unto  his  people,  and  to  his  saints; 
but  let  them  not  turn  again  unto  folly,"  Ps. 
Ixxxv.  8.  A  good  protestant  believes,  that 
"  faith  without  works  is  dead;  that  it  worketh 
by  love;  and  that  we  are  justified  by  works," 
Jam.  ii.  21 — 26.  A  good  protestant  believes, 
that  "  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand,  in  or- 
der that  men  may  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for  re- 
pentance," Matt.  iii.  3.  8.  A  good  protestant 
believes,  tliat  "  tiiere  is  no  condemnation  to 
those  who  walk  not  after  the  flesii,  but  after 
the  Spirit,"  Rom.  viii.  1,  2.  That  "sin  shall 
not  have  dominion  over  us,  because  we  are  not 
under  the  law,  but  under  grace,"  Rom.  vi.  14. 
A  good  protestant  believes,  that  "  without  ho- 
liness no  man  shall  sec  the  Lord:"  that  "nei- 
ther fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers, 
nor  efieminate,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor 
drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall 
enter  the  kingdom  of  God,"  1  Cor.  vi.  8,  9. 

If  this  were  not  the  true  definition  of  faith 
and  repentance;  if  faith  and  repentance  were  a 
mere  wish  to  participate  of  the  merits  of  Jesus 
Christ;  if,  in  order  to  salvation,  we  had  but  to 
ask  grace,  without  suliduing  the  corruptions  of 
the  heart,  v/hat  would  the  gospel  be?  I  will 
venture  to  aftiriii,  it  would  be  tiie  most  impure 
of  all  religions;  it  would  be  a  monstrous  econo- 
my; it  would  be  an  invitation  to  crimes;  it 
would  bo  a  subversion  of  the  law  of  nature. 
Under  this  supposition,  the  basest  of  men  might 
have  claims  of  mercy:  the  laws  of  God  might 
be  violated  with  impunity;  Jesus  Christ  would 
not  have  descended  from  heaven,  to  save  us 
from  our  sins,  but  to  console  us  in  the  commis- 
sion of  crimes.  A  heathen,  excluded  from  the 
covenant  of  grace,  would  be  checked  in  his  riot 
by  fears  of  the  most  tremendous  punishment;  a 
Christian,  on  the  contrary,  would  be  the  more 
encouraged  to  continue  in  sin,  by  the  notion  of 
a  mercy  ever  ready  to  receive  him.  And  you, 
('elsus,  you  Porphyry,  you  Zosimus,  you  Ju- 
lian, celebrated  enemies  of  the  Christian  name, 
who  once  calumniated  the  infant  church,  who 
so  frequently  accused  the  first  Christians  with 
authorizing  licentiousness,  you  had  reason  to 
complain,  and  wo  have  uoUmig  to  reply.     So 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


257 


many  are  the  reflections,  so  many  the  proofs, 
that  tlic  failli  and  repentance,  without  which 
we  can  find  no  access  to  the  throne  of  grace  in 
a  dying  hour,  consist  not  in  a  simple  desire  to 
be  saved,  in  a  superficial  recourse  to  the  merits 
of  Jesus  Christ;  they  include,  in  their  notion, 
the  renunciation  of  the  world,  the  abandoning 
of  our  crimes,  and  the  renovation  of  heart,  of 
which  wc  have  just  spoken;  and,  that,  witiiout 
this  faith,  there  is  no  grace,  no  mercy,  no  sal- 
vation. 

I  know  that  there  are  tender  conversions; 
that  faith  has  degrees;  that  piety  has  a  begin- 
ning; that  a  Christian  has  liis  infancy;  and  that, 
at  the  tribunal  of  a  merciful  God,  tiie  sincerity 
of  our  repentance  will  be  a  substitute  for  its 
perfection.  But  do  you  call  that  a  growing 
conversionj  do  you  denominate  that  faith,  do 
you  take  that  for  repentance,  which  is  the  re- 
morse of  a  conscience  alarmed,  not  by  abhor- 
rence of  sin,  but  the  fear  of  punishment;  not  by 
a  principle  of  divine  love,  but  a  principle  of 
self-love;  not  by  a  desire  to  be  united  to  God, 
but  by  horror,  e.xcited  by  the  idea  of  approach- 
ing death,  and  the  image  of  devouring  fire? 
Farther,  is  it  not  true,  that  to  what  degree  so- 
ever we  may  carry  evangelical  condescension, 
it  is  alwaj's  evident,  that  faith  and  repentance 
include,  in  their  notion,  the  principles,  at  least, 
of  detachment  from  the  world,  of  renunciation 
of  vice,  and  the  renovation  of  heart,  the  neces- 
sity of  wiiich  we  have  pressed. 

This  being  established,  it  seems  to  me  that 
truth  is  triumpliant;  having  proved  how  little 
ground  a  man,  who  delays  conversion,  has  to 
rely  on  the  mercy  of  God,  and  expect  salva- 
tion. For,  after  having  lived  in  negligence,  by 
what  unknown  secret  would  you  form  in  the 
soul  the  repentance  and  faith  we  have  describ- 
ed, without  which,  access  to  the  mercy  of  God 
is  excluded?  Whence  would  you  derive  these 
virtues?  From  your  own  strength,  or  from  the 
operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit'  Do  you  say  from 
your  own  strength?  What  then  becomes  of 
your  orthodoxy?  What  becomes  of  the  doc- 
trine of  human  weakness,  and  of  the  neces- 
sity of  grace;  of  which  pretext  you  avail  your- 
selves to  defer  conversion?  Do  you  not  per- 
ceive how  you  destroy  your  own  principles, 
and  sap  with  one  hand,  what  you  build  with 
the  other? 

Recollect  farther  what  we  established  in  our 
first  discourse  on  the  force  of  habits.  And  how 
can  you  ])resume  that  a  habit  formed  by  a  thou- 
sand acts;  a  habit  in  which  a  man  has  grovel- 
led and  grown  old,  should  be  changed  in  a  mo- 
ment' How  can  you  dream  that  a  man  wiio 
has  wasted  so  many  years  in  sin;  a  man  accus- 
tomed to  regard  the  world  as  his  portion,  and 
virtue  not  as  valuable,  except  as  a  final  re- 
source; how  can  you  think  that  such  a  man 
should  be  converted  in  a  moment'  Ah!  and  in 
what  circumstances?  in  an  expiring  old  age, 
when  the  senses  arc  dulled,  when  the  memory 
fails,  when  reason  is  disturbed  with  reverie,  and 
when  the  vivacity  of  nature  is  extinguished,  or 
indeed,  on  the  approaches  of  death,  when  the 
mere  idea  of  "  the  king  of  terrors,"  agitates,  af- 
frights, and  confounds  him?  Nothing  then, 
most  assuredly,  but  the  extraordinary  grace  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  can  convert  such  a  man.  But 
what  assurance  have  you  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
Vol.  II.--33 


will  work  the  like  miracle  in  your  favour?  Say 
ratlier,  how  many  presumptive  arguments  are 
opposed  in  the  first  part  of  our  discourse  to  a 
hope  so  preposterous. 

We  conclude,  that  nothing  is  so  doubtful  aa 
a  tardy  repentance;  that  nothing  is  so  unwise 
as  the  delay  of  conversion.  We  farther  con- 
clude, that,  in  order  to  receive  the  aids  of 
grace,  we  nuist  live  in  continual  vigilancej  itl 
order  to  become  the  objects  of  mercy,  wc  must 
have  both  repentance  and  faith;  and  the  only 
sure  tests  of  having  these  virtues,  is  a  long 
course  of  pious  offices.  In  the  ordinary  course 
of  religion,  without  a  miracle  of  mercy,  a  man 
who  has  wasted  his  life  in  sin,  whatever  sighs 
he  may  send  to  heaven  at  the  hour  of  death, 
has  cause  to  fear  that  all  access  to  mercy  will 
be  cut  off". 

All  these  things  appear  very  clear,  my  bre- 
thren; nevertheless,  the  wicked  love  to  deceive 
themselves;  they  affect  rationally  to  believe  the 
things  of  which  they  are  only  persuaded  by  ca- 
price; and  they  start  objections,  which  it  is  of 
importance  to  resolve;  with  this  view  we  pro- 
ceed to  apply  the  whole  of  this  discourse. 

APPLICATION. 

We  find  people  who  readily  say,  that  they 
cannot  comprehend  these  things;  that  they  can- 
not imagine  the  justice  of  God  to  be  so  severe 
as  we  have  insisted;  and  the  conditions  of  the 
new  covenant  to  be  so  rigorous  as  we  have  af- 
firmed. 

What  are  the  whole  of  these  objections  but 
suppositions  without  foundation,  and  frivolous 
conjectures?  "  There  is  but  an  appearance:  I 
cannot  imagine:  I  cannot  conceive."  Would 
you,  on  suppositions  of  this  nature,  risk  your 
reputation,  your  honour,  your  fortune,  your 
life?  Why,  then,  risk  your  salvation? 

The  justice  of  God  is,  perhaps,  not  so  rigo- 
rous, you  say,  as  we  have  affirmed.  It  is  true, 
that  it  may  be  so.  If  God  have,  by  himself, 
some  covenant  of  grace  not  yet  revealed;  if  he 
should  have  some  nesv  gospel;  if  God  have  pre- 
pared some  other  sacrifice,  your  conjectures 
may  be  right.  But  if  "  there  is  no  name  under 
heaven  whereby  we  can  be  saved,  but  that  of 
our  Jesus,"  Acts  iv.  12;  if  there  is  no  other 
blood  than  that  shed  by  this  divine  Saviour;  if 
"  God  shall  judge  the  world  according  to  my 
gospel,"  Rom.  ii.  16;  then  your  arguments  fail, 
and  your  salvation  is  hopeless. 

Farther,  what  sort  of  reasoning  is  this? 
"There  is  but  an  appearance:  I  cannot  con- 
ceive: I  cannot  imagine."  And  who  are  you 
that  reason  in  this  way?  Are  you  Christians? 
Where  then  is  that  faith,  which  ought  to  sub- 
jugate reason  to  the  decision  of  revelation,  and 
which  admits  tlie  most  abstract  doctrines,  and 
the  most  sublime  mysteries?  If  you  are  allowed 
to  talk  in  this  way,  to  reply  when  God  speaks, 
to  argue  when  he  decides,  let  us  establish  a  new 
religion;  let  us  place  reason  on  the  throne,  and 
make  faith  retire.  The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
obstructs  my  thought,  the  atonement  confounds 
me,  the  incarnation  presents  precipices  to  me, 
in  which  my  reason  is  absorbed.  If  you  are 
disposed  to  doubt  of  the  doctrines  we  have  ad- 
vanced, under  a  pretext  that  you  cannot  com- 
prehend them,  then  discard  the  other  doctrine»', 
they  are  not  less  incomprehensible. 


258 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


LSer.  LXXXI. 


I  will  go  farther  still;  I  will  venture  to  af- 
firm, that  if  reason  must  be  consulted  on  the 
jjortrait  wo  have  drawn  of  God's  justico,  it  j)ur- 
fec'lly  accords  witli  revelation,  'i'hou  canst 
not  conceive  how  justice  sliuuld  be  so  rif^orous; 
and  1  cannot  conceive  how  it  should  be  so  in- 
duljjcnt.  1  cannot  conceive  how  the  Lord  of 
the  universe  siiould  l>e  clothed  with  tiuuian 
Hcsii,  should  e.\]>osu  himseU'  to  an  infuriated 
populace,  and  expire  on  a  cross;  tiiis  is  the 
greatest  difficulty  1  find  in  tin;  gospel.  IJut  be 
thou  silent,  imperious  reason;  liere  is  a  satisfac- 
tory Solution.  Join  the  dilliculty  wiiich  thou 
iîndest  in  the  admiiiistralion  of  justice,  witli 
tliat  which  proceeds  from  tliy  notion  of  mercy; 
tlie  one  will  correct  the  other.  Tiie  sii|)era- 
bundance  of  mercy  will  rectify  the  severity  of 
justice;  for  the  severity  of  justice  proceeds  from 
the  superabundance  of  mercy. 

If  tiie  people  who  talk  in  this  manner;  if 
the  people  who  find  the  divine  justice  too  se- 
vere; if  they  were  a  pcoj)le  diligently  laliour- 
iiijr  to  promote  their  own  -salvation;  if  tliey  de- 
voted an  hour  daily  to  the  work,  the  ditliculty 
would  be  plausible,  and  they  would  iiave  aj)- 
parent  cause  of  complaint.  But  who  are  these 
complainants?  They  are  people  wlio  throw  the 
reins  to  their  ])assions;  who  glory  in  lliuir  inlli- 
mous  intrigues;  who  are  implacatde  in  haling 
their  neighbour,  and  resolved  to  hate  him  dur- 
ing life:  they  are  votaries  of  pleasure,  who 
spend  half  the  night  in  gaining,  in  drunken- 
ness, in  theatres,  and  take  from  the  day  the 
[lart  of  the  night  they  have  devoted  to  dissij>a- 
tion:  they  arc  proud,  ambitious  men,  wlio,  un- 
der a  pretext  of  having  sumptuous  eijuipagc, 
and  dignified  titles,  fancy  themselves  autho- 
rized to  violate  the  obligations  of  Christianity 
with  imjiunity.  These  are  the  jieople,  who, 
when  told  if  they  persist  in  this  way  of  life, 
that  they  cannot  be  saved,  reply,  that  they  can- 
not conceive  how  the  justice  of  God  should 
treat  thenj  with  such  severity.  And  I,  for  my 
own  part,  cannot  conceive  how  (rod  should 
treat  you  so  indulgently;  I  cannot  conceive 
how  he  should  jiermit  the  sun  to  enlighten 
thee.  I  cannot  conceive  how  he,  who  holds 
the  thunder  in  his  hand,  can  apparently  be  an 
idle  spectator  of  thy  sacrileges.  1  cannot  con- 
ceive how  the  earth  does  not  open  beneath  thy 
feet,  and,  by  its  terrific  jaws,  anticipate  tlie 
punishment  j)repared  in  hell  for  theo  by  the 
divine  vengeance. 

You  say  again,  that  tliis  mercy,  of  which 
wo  draw  so  magnificent  a  portrait,  is  conse- 
quently very  circumscribed.  IJiit  say  rather, 
how  is  it  that  you  dare  to  start  dilliciiltics  of 
this  nature?  (iod,  Ike  blisscd  (Ind,  the  Sii|)reino 
Ueiiig,  has  formed  you  of  nothing;  has  given 
you  his  Son,  h;is  otl'erod  you  his  Spirit,  has 
promised  to  bear  witli  you  such  ;is  you  are, 
with  all  your  infirmities,  with  all  your  corruj»- 
tions,  with  all  your  weakness;  h;is  ojieiied  to 
you  the  gates  of  heaven;  and  being  desirous  to 
give  you  biinself,  he  rccpiircs  no  return,  but  the 
consecration  to  him  of  your  few  remaining 
days  on  earth;  he  pxcludes  none  from  paradise, 
but  hardened  and  iiii|>eiiilent  men.  How  then, 
can  you  s.ay  that  the  merc^  of  God  is  circuin- 
scribisd!  What!  is  it  iin|i..sible  for  God  to  be 
merciful  unless  he  reward  your  crimes?     Is  no- 


thing mercy  willi  you,  but  that  which  permits 
a  universal  inundation  of  vice? 

Vou  slill  say,  if  the  condilion.s  of  the  new 
covenant  are  such  as  you  have  laid  down,  it  is 
then  an  arduous  ta.sk  to  become  a  Christian, 
and  conscipienlly  very  dillicult  to  obtain  salva- 
tion. Dut  do  you  think,  my  brethren,  that  wo 
are  discouraged  at  tlie  dilliculty?  Know  you 
not,  that  "strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the 
way,  that  leadelli  unto  life?"  Matt.  vii.  14. 
Know  you  not,  that  we  must  "  pluck  out  the 
eye,  and  cut  otf  the  hand?"  vcr.  29.  Sur- 
mount the  most  dear  and  delicate  |irui>ensities; 
dissolve  the  ties  of  llesli  and  blood,  of  nature 
and  sclf-atta<'liiiieiit.  Know  you  not,  that  we 
must  "crucify  the  old  man,  and  deny  ourselves?" 
xvi.  îi-1.  Know  you  not,  that  "  we  must  add 
to  our  faith  virtue,  to  virtue  knowledge,  to 
knowledge  patience,  to  patience  brotherly  kind- 
ness, to  brotherly  kindness  charity,  and  to  cha- 
rity godliness,"  '^  I'et.  i.  5. 

Uut  you  add,  tiiat  few  persons  will  then  be 
saved;  anollier  objection  we  little  fear,  though, 
perhaps,  it  would  iiave  been  unanswerable,  had 
not  .Icsus  Christ  himself  taught  us  to  reply. — 
liut  is  this  a  new  gosi)eP  is  it  a  new  doctrine 
to  say,  that  few  shall  be  saved?  Has  not  Jesus 
C'hrist  himself  declared  it^  1  will  address  my- 
self, on  tills  subject,  to  those  who  understand 
the  elucidation  of  types.  1  will  adduce  one 
type,  a  very  distinguished  type,  a  type  not 
equivocal  but  terrific;  it  is  the  unhappy  multi- 
tude of  Israel,  who  muniiured  against  God, 
aller  being  saved  liom  the  land  of  Lgypt- — 
'I'he  object  of  their  journey  was  Canaan.  Deut. 
i.  35,  'ôii.  God  [lerlbrmed  innumerable  mira- 
cles to  give  them  the  land;  the  sea  opened  and 
gave  them  p;ussage;  bread  descended  from  hea- 
ven to  nourish  them;  water  i.ssued  from  the 
deaf  rock  to  ipjench  their  thirst.  Tliere  was 
but  one  in  which  they  failed;  they  never  en- 
tered into  Canaan:  there  were  but  two  adults, 
among  all  these  myriads,  who  found  admission. 
What  is  the  import  of  this  type?  The  very 
thing  to  vvjiich  you  object.  The  Israelites  re- 
present these  hcMrers;  the  miracles  represent 
the  olfort^i  of  I'rovidence  for  your  salvation; 
Canaan  is  the  figure  (if  jniradise,  for  which  you 
hope,  and  Caleb  and  .loshua  alone  were  admit- 
tcil  into  the  land,  which  so  many  miracles  had 
apparently  promised  to  the  whole  nation.  What 
do  these  shadows  adumbrate  to  the  Christian 
world?  My  brethren,  1  do  not  dare  to  make 
the  application.  1  leave  with  you  this  object 
for  conleinplalion;  this  terrific  subject  for  seri- 
ous rcllection. 

15ut  you  still  ask,  "  why  do  you  prcacli  to  us 
such  awful  doctrine?  It  subverts  religion;  it 
drives  people  to  despair."  Great  risk,  indeed, 
and  imminent  danger  of  driving  to  despair,  the 
men  whom  1  attack!  Sujqiress  the  poison,  re- 
move the  dagger,  exclude  the  idea  of  death 
from  the  mind,  until  the  recollection  of  their 
sins  shall  drive  them  to  the  last  extremity. — 
Ihil  why?  The  characters  whom  we  have  de- 
scribed, those  nominal  moii  of  apathy,  those  in- 
dolent souls,  those  hearts  sold  to  the  world  and 
its  ple:uiurcs,  have  they  weak  and  delicate  con- 
sciences, which  we  ought  to  s))are,  and  for 
whom  wo  ought  to  fear,  lest  the  disi)lays  of  di- 
vine justice  should  produce  efiecla  too  severe 


Skr.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


259 


and  strong?  Ah!  unliappy  people,  even  to 
mention  diliicultios  of  this  nature.  If  you 
wero  already  strct<;hcd  on  a  dyiiiir  bed;  already 
eoino  to  llu;  olusc  of  a  criminal  courso;  if  liell 
had  opened  huucath  to  .swallow  you  U|);  if  you 
Jiad  Mo  re.source  but  the  last  etibrls  of  an  ex- 
piring soul,  then  you  would  be  woithy  of  pity. 
But  you  are  yet  alive;  grace  is  otlercd;  all  the 
avenues  of  ropcntance  are  open  to  you;  "  the 
Lord  may  yet  ho  found:"  there  is  not  one 
among  you,  hut  may  call  upon  him  with  suc- 
cess. Ytsl  you  devote  the  whole  of  life  to  the 
world;  you  conlirm  the  habits  of  corruption; 
and  when  we  warn  you,  when  we  unma.sii  your 
turpitude,  when  we  discover  tlie  abyss  into 
which  you  precipitate  j'ourselvcs  by  choice, 
you  complain  that  it  is  driving  you  to  despair! 
Would  to  («od  that  our  voice  nnglit  be  exalted 
like  thunder,  and  tiie  brightness  of  our  dis- 
course he  Jis  that  wliicli  struck  St.  Paul  on  the 
road  to  Damascus;  prostrating  you,  like  that 
apostle,  at  tlic  feet  of  the  Jjord!  ^Vuuld  to 
God  that  the  horrors  of  des|)air,  and  tlie  I'right- 
ful  images  of  hell,  might  till  you  with  .salutary 
tear,  inducing  you  to  avoid  it!  \Vould  to  (Jod 
that  your  body  might,  from  this  moment,  "  be 
delivered  to  Satan,  that  the  s|)irit  might  bo 
saved  in  tiie  day  of  the  Lord,"  I  Cor.  v.  3. 

It  rests  with  you,  my  brethren,  to  ai)ply  these 
truths;  and  to  prolit  by  the  means  which  I'ro- 
vidence  this  day  affords  for  your  conversion. 
W  there  yet  remains  any  resources,  any  hopes 
for  the  man  who  delays  conversion,  it  is  not 
with  ministers  of  the  gospel  to  point  them  out. 
We  are  not  the  j>lenipolenliaries  of  our  reli- 
gion; we  are  the  ambassadors  of  Christ;  we 
Jiave  e.\i)licit  instructions,  and  our  commission 
prescribed.  God  requires  that  we  publisii  his 
itovenant,  that  we  j)roinise  you  every  aid  of 
grace,  that  we  open  the  treasures  of  mercy, 
that  we  lead  you  to  heavenly  places  by  tlie 
track,  sprinkled  with  tiie  blood  of  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  J3ut  each  of  these  privileges 
has  conditions  annexed,  the  nature  of  which 
you  have  heard.  C^jmply  with  them,  repent, 
give  your  conversion  solid,  habitual,  and  elfec- 
tive  marks;  liicn  the  treasures  of  grace  are 
yours.  JJut  if  you  should  persist  in  sin  (to  tell 
you  truths  to-d,ay,  which,  perhaps,  would  be 
useless  to-morrow,)  if  you  should  jiersist  dur- 
ing life,  and  till  the  a[)|)roaches  of  death,  and 
the  horrors  of  hell  shall  extort  from  you  prot(!s- 
tations  of  rclbrin,  and  excite  in  you  the  sem- 
blance of  conversion,  wc  cannot,  without  doing 
violence  to  our  instructions,  and  exceeding  our 
commistiion,  speak  jjcace  to  your  souls,  and 
make  you  oilers  of  salvation; 

These  considerations  must  exculpate  minis- 
ters of  the  gospel,  who  know  how  to  maintain 
the  majesty  of  their  mission,  and  correspond 
with  their  character.  And  if  they  exculpate 
us  not  in  your  estimation,  they  will  justify  us, 
at  least,  in  the  great  day,  when  the  most  secret 
things  shall  be  adduced  in  evidence.  You  are 
not  properly  actpiainted  with  our  ministry. — 
You  call  us  to  the  dying,  who  we  know  to  have 
been  wicked,  or  far  from  conforming  to  the 
conditions  oC  the  new  covenant,  'i'his  wicked 
man,  on  the  approach  of  death,  composes  him- 
self ;  ho  talks  solely  of  repentance,  of  mercy, 
and  of  tears.  On  seeing  this  exterior  of  con- 
version, you  would  have  us  presume,  that  such 


a  man  is  more  than  converted;  and,  in  that 
rash  conclusion,  you  would  have  us  offer  him 
tiio  highest  jilace  in  the  mansions  of  the  blessed. 
But  wo,  wo  to  those  ministers,  who,  by  a 
cruel  lenity,  ]irecipitalo  souls  into  hell,  under 
the  delusion  of  opening  to  them  the  gates  of 
jiaradise.  Wo  to  that  minister,  who  shall  be 
so  prodigal  of  the  favours  of  God.  Instead 
of  sjieaking  peace  to  such  a  man,  "  1  would 
cry  aloud;  I  would  lift  up  my  voice  like  a 
trumiiet;  I  would  shout,"  Isa.  Iviii.  L  "I 
would  thunder;  1  would  shoot  against  him  the 
arrows  of  the  Almighty;  1  would  make  him 
"suck  the  venom,"  Job  vi.  4.  Happy,  if  I 
might  irrailiate  jjassions  so  inveterate;  if  I 
might  save  by  fear;  if  1  might  pluck  from  the 
burning,  a  soul  so  hardened  m  sin. 

lint  if,  as  it  commonly  occurs,  this  dying 
man  shall  devote  to  his  conversion  but  an  ex- 
iiausled  body,  and  the  last  sighs  of  expiring 
life;  wo,  wo  again,  to  that  minister  of  the  gos- 
])el,  who,  by  a  relaxed  policy,  shall,  so  to  speak, 
come  to  canonize  this  man,  as  though  he  had 
died  "  the  death  of  the  righteous!"  Let  no 
one  ask.  What  would  you  do?  Would  you 
trouble  the  ashes  of  the  dead?  Would  you 
drive  a  family  to  despair?  Would  }i:>u  aflix  a 
brand  of  infamy  on  a  house? — What  would  I 
do?  I  would  maintain  the  interests  of  my 
Master;  1  would  act  becoming  a  minister  of 
Jesus  Christ;  1  would  jireveiit  your  taking  an 
anti-Christian  death  for  a  hajipy  death;  I  would 
jirotit  by  the  loss  I  have  now  described;  and 
liold  up  tiiis  prey  of  the  devil  as  a  terror  to 
the  spectators,  to  the  family,  and  to  the  whole 
church. 

Would  you  know,  my  dear  brethren,  which 
is  the  way  to  ])reveiit  such  great  calamities? 
Would  you  know  what  is  the  accepted  time  to 
implore  forgiveness,  and  to  (ferive  the  Holy 
Spirit  into  your  heart?  It  is  this  moment,  it  is 
now.  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be 
found."  Yes,  he  may  bo  found  to-day:  he 
may  be  found  in  this  assembly;  he  may  be 
found  under  tiie  word  we  are  now  speaking; 
he  may  be  found  under  the  exhortations  we 
give  in  his  name;  he  may  be  found  in  the  re- 
morse, the  anguish,  the  emotions,  excited  in 
your  hearts,  and  which  say,  on  his  behalf, 
"  seek  ye  my  face."  He  may  be  found  in  your 
clo.sets,  where  he  otVers  to  converse  with  you 
in  tiie  most  tender  and  flimiliar  manner:  he 
may  be  found  among  the  poor,  among  the  sick, 
among  those  dying  carcases,  among  those  liv- 
ing images  of  death,  and  the  toinb,  w^hich  soli- 
cit your  compjission;  and  which  open  to  you 
the  way  of  charity  that  leads  to  God,  who  is 
charity  itself.  He  may  be  found  to-day,  but 
perhaps  to-morrow  he  will  be  found  no  more. 
Perhajis,  to-morrow  you  may  seek  in  vain;  per- 
haps, to-morrow  your  measure  may  be  fall; 
jierhaps,  to-morrow  grace  may  be  for  ever 
withdrawn;  perhaps,  to-morrow  the  sentence 
which  must  decide  your  eternal  destiny  shall 
be  pronounced!  /^ 

Ah!  who  can  estimate  the  value  of  a  mo- 
luent  so  precious!  Ah!  who  can  compare  his 
situation  with  the  unhappy  victims,  that  divine 
vengeance  has  immolated  in  hell,  and  for  whom 
''time  is  no  longer!"  Ah!  who,  on  withdraw- 
ing from  this  temple,  instead  of  so  much  vain 
conversation  and  criminal  dissipation,  would 


260 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


not  prostrate  himself  at  the  footstool  of  the  Di- 
vine Majfuty;  weopinij  for  the  past,  reforming 
the  present,  and  takinir  salutary  precautions  for 
the  future.  Aii!  who  would  not  force  him  by 
broken  sighs,  by  fervent  prayers,  by  torrents  of 
tears,  never  to  depart!  Who  would  not  say, 
and  more  with  his  heart  than  with  his  mouth, 
"Stay  witii  me,  Lord;  I  will  not  let  thee  go, 
until  thou  hast  blessed  nie,''  Gen.  xxxii.  20; 
until  thou  hast  vanquished  my  corruption,  and 
given  me  the  earnest  of  my  salvation.  The 
time  of  my  visitation  is  almost  expired;  I  see  it, 
I  know  it,  I  feel  it;  my  conversion  requires  a 
miracle;  I  ask  this  miracle  of  thee,  and  am  re- 
solved to  obtain  it  of  thy  compassion. 

My  brethren,  my  dear  brethren,  we  have  no 
cjcprevsions  sufficiently  tender,  no  emotions  suf- 
ficiently pathetic,  no  prayers  sufficiently  fer- 
vent, tjo  draw  you  to  these  duties.  Let  your 
zeal  supply  our  weakness.  If  we  have  bran- 
dished before  your  eyes  the  sword  of  divine 
vengeance,  it  is  not  to  destroy  you,  but  to  save 
you;  it  is  not  to  drive  you  to  despair,  but  to  in- 
duce you  "to  sorrow  after  a  godly  sort,  and 
with  a  repentance  not  to  be  repented  of,"  2 
Cor.  ii.  10.  It  is  incumbent  on  each  of  you 
who  hear,and  regard  what  I  say,  to  participate 
in  these  advantages.  May  you,  from  the  pre- 
sent moment,  form  a  resolution  to  profit  by  an 
opportunity  so  precious.  May  the  hour  of  your 
death,  corresponding  with  the  sincerity  of  your 
resolutions,  and  with  the  holiness  of  your  lives, 
open  to  you  the  gates  of  heaven,  and  enable 
you  to  find  in  ijlory  that  God,  whom  you  shall 
have  found  merciful  in  this  church.  God  grant 
you  grace  so  to  do.  To  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit,  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON   LXXXI. 

ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 

PART  III. 


Isaiah  Iv.  6. 
Seek  ye  the  Lord  u-hile  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  irhile  he  is  near. 

Experience,  my  brethren,  is  a  great  teacher; 
it  is  a  professor  which  adduces  clear,  solid,  and 
indisputable  proofs.  Reason  is  an  admirable 
endowment,  given  us  as  a  guide  in  our  re- 
searches after  truth.  Revelation  has  been  happi- 
ly added  to  reason,  to  correct  and  guide  it;  but 
both  have  tlieir  difficulties.  Reason  is  circum- 
scribed, itn  views  are  confined,  its  deviations 
frequent;  and  the  false  inferences  we  perceive 
it  deduces,  rendiT  doulitful  its  most  clear  and 
evident  conclusions.  Revelation,  however  ve- 
nerable its  tribunal,  however  infallible  its  de- 
cisions, "  is  foolishness,"  says  the  apostle,  "to 
the  natural  man;"  it  is  exposed  to  the  glosses 
of  erroneous  critics,  to  the  ditHcultics  of  here- 
tics, açd  the  contradictions  of  infidels.  Rut 
expcri^ice  is  without  exception;  it  speaks  to 
the  heart,  to  the  senses,  and  the  understand- 
ings; it  neither  reas<jns  nor  debates,  but  carries 
conviction  and  proof.  It  so  commands  the 
consent  of  the  (Jhristian,  the  philosopher,  and 
even  the  atheist,  that  nothing  but  mental  de- 
rangement can  revoke  its  decisions  in  doubt. 

This  18  the  grand  instructer  that  must  preach 


to-day  in  this  pulpit.  In  illustrating  the  words 
of  the  text,  it  was  not  sufficient  that  we  demon- 
strated, in  our  preceding  discourses,  from  rea- 
son and  Scripture,  the  folly  of  the  sinner,  who 
delays  his  conversion;  it  was  not  sufficient  that 
philosophy  and  religion  have  boti>  concurred  to 
prove,  that  in  order  to  labour  successfully  at 
the  work  of  salvation,  we  must  begin  in  early 
life,  in  the  time  of  health,  and  in  the  days  of 
youth.  We  will  prove  it  by  experience;  we 
will  demonstrate  it  by  sad  tests  and  instances 
of  the  truths  we  have  delivered;  we  will  pro- 
duce to  you  awful  declarations  of  the  wrath  of 
heaven,  which  cry  to  you  with  a  strong  and 
tender  voice,  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may 
be  found,  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near." 

These  witnesses,  these  tests,  these  examples 
shall  be  adduced  from  persons,  who  once  stood 
in  your  present  situation;  acquainted  with  the 
will  of  God,  warned  by  his  servant,  and  living, 
as  St.  Peter  expresses  himself,  "  at  a  period,  in 
which  the  long-suffering  of  God  awaited  them," 
1  Pet.  iii.  20.  And  you,  even  you,  Christians, 
must  one  day  become  what  they  now  are, 
awful  examples  of  the  wrath  of  God;  eternal 
monuments  of  his  indignation  and  vengeance; 
unless  your  eyes,  opened  by  so  much  light,  un- 
less your  hearts,  impressed  by  so  many  motives, 
unless  your  consciences,  alarmed  by  the  dread- 
ful judgments  of  God,  shall  take  measures  to 
prevent  the  sentence,  already  prepared  in  his 
eternal  counsels,  and  whose  execution  is  at  the 
door. 

But  does  it  not  seem  to  you,  my  brethren, 
tliat  wo  undertake  a  task  too  arduous,  when 
we  engage  to  prove,  from  experience,  that  the 
long-suffering  of  God  is  restricted;  and  that,  by 
delaying  conversion,  we  risk  the  total  frustra- 
tion of  the  work?  You  have  already  alleged,  I 
am  aware,  an  almost  infinite  number  of  sinners, 
who  apparently  subvert  our  principles;  so  many 
servants,  called  at  the  eleventh  hour,  so  many 
hearts,  which  grace  has  changed  in  a  moment; 
so  many  penitents,  who,  in  the  first  essays  of 
repentance,  have  found  the  arms  of  mercy  open; 
and  whose  happy  success  consoles,  to  the  pre- 
sent hour,  the  imitators  of  their  crimes. 

We  shall  hear  your  reasons,  before  we  pro- 
pose our  own.  We  would  leave  nothing  be- 
hind, which  might  occasion  a  mistake,  in  which 
it  is  so  dangerous  to  be  deceived.  Our  dis- 
course shall  turn  on  these  two  points:  first,  wo 
shall  e.\amine  the  cases  of  those  sinners  which 
seem  to  favour  the  conduct  of  those  who  delay 
conversion;  then  we  shall  allege,  in  the  second 
place,  those  which  confirm  our  principle,  and 
make  a  direct  attack  on  security  and  delay. 

I.  Wc  shall  examine  the  case  of  those  sin- 
ners, which  seem  to  militate  against  what  we 
have  advanced  in  the  preceding  discourses. 
All  that  we  then  advanced,  may  bo  comprised 
under  two  heads.  We  said,  first,  that  in  order 
to  ac(piirc  the  habit  of  piety,  there  was  but  one 
way,  tlie  daily  exercise  of  all  its  duties.  We 
affirmed,  secondly,  that  the  period  of  mercy, 
is  restricted;  and  that  wc  risk  a  total  exclusion 
when  we  offer  to  (Jod  only  the  last  groans  of 
expiring  life.  We  founded  our  first  proposition 
on  the  force  of  habits,  and  on  the  natiuo  of  the 
Holy  Spirit's  economy,  who,  for  the  most  part, 
abandons  to  their  own  turpitude,  those  that  re- 
sist his  grace.    This  was  the  subject  of  our  first 


SïR.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


261 


sermon,  and  the  second  part  of  the  otlier.  Wc 
established  oiir  second  proposition  on  the  new 
covenant,  which  offers  us  mercy,  solely  on  con- 
dition of  repentance,  fiiitii,  and  liic  love  of  God; 
conseJ]ncnlly,  which  renders  dubious  the  stale 
of  those,  who  have  not  bestowed  upon  those 
virtues,  the  time  adequate  to  their  acquisition. 
These  are  the  two  ])rincipal  heads,  which  com- 
prise all  that  we  have  advanced  upon  tiiis  sub- 
ject. 

You  may  also  oppose  to  us  two  classes  of 
examples.  In  tiie  first  class  you  may  arrange 
tiiose  instantaneous  conversions  and  changes, 
which  grace  has  effectuated  in  a  moment  by  a 
single  stroke;  and  which  apparently  destroy 
what  we  have  advanced  on  tiie  force  of  iiabits, 
and  the  nature  of  the  economy  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  In  the  second  class,  you  will  put  those 
other  sinners,  who,  after  the  perpetration  of 
enormous  crimes,  have  obtained  remission  by  a 
sign,  by  a  prayer,  by  a  few  tears;  and  who  af- 
ford presumptive  hopes,  that  to  whatever  ex- 
cess we  may  have  carried  our  crimes,  we  shall 
never  exceed  the  terms  of  mercy,  or  obstruct 
reception  at  the  throne  of  grace.  Let  us  con- 
sider the  difficulties  which  may  be  drawn  from 
both  these  sources. 

You  adduce  first  those  sudden  conversions, 
those  instantaneous  changes  on  the  spot,  with- 
out difficulty,  labour,  and  repeated  endeavours. 
Of  this  class,  we  have  various  examples  in 
Scripture.  We  have  Simon,  we  have  Andrew, 
we  liave  James  the  son  of  Zebedee,  and  most 
of  the  apostles,  whom  Jesus  Christ  found  cast- 
ing their  nets  into  the  sea,  and  engaged  in  the 
humble  trade  of  fishing,  or  collecting  the  tri- 
bute; and  who  were  instantaneously,  and  on  the 
spot,  endued  with  divine  thoughts,  new  desires, 
and  heavenly  propensities;  who,  from  the  mean- 
est artisans  became  the  heralds  of  the  gospel; 
formed  the  noble  design  of  conquering  the  uni- 
verse, and  subjugating  the  whole  world  to  the 
empire  of  their  Master. 

With  this  class,  may  also  be  associated  the 
example  of  Zaccheus;  who  seems  to  have  been 
renovated  in  a  moment,  and  to  have  reformed 
on  the  spot,  and  without  the  previous  duties 
of  piety,  a  passion  the  most  obstinate,  wliich 
grows  with  age,  and  from  which  scarcely  any 
one  is  converted.  He  assumed  a  language  un- 
heard of  in  the  mouth  of  a  merchant,  and  es- 
pecially a  covetous  merchant:  "  Tlie  half  of 
my  goods  I  give  to  feed  tiie  poor;  and  if  I  have 
taken  any  tiling  from  any  man  by  false  accusa- 
tion, I  restore  him  fourfold,"  Luke  xix.  8.  To 
the  same  class  you  may  add  those  thousands 
of  persons  who  changed  their  faith  and  reform- 
ed their  lives,  on  the  first  preaching  of  the 
apostles. 

After  so  many  trophies  erected  to  the  power 
of  grace,  what  becomes  of  your  arguments,  you 
say,  on  the  force  of  habits,  on  the  genius  of  the 
Holy  Spirit's  economy?  Who  will  dare  to  main- 
tain, after  the  adduction  of  these  that  habits  of 
piety  may  not  be  acquired  witliout  labour,  fa- 
tigue, and  the  duties  of  devotion?  Why  may  I 
not  promise  myself,  after  devoting  the  most  of 
my  life  to  pleasure,  to  have  the  same  power 
over  my  heart  as  Zaccheus,  the  apostles,  and 


power,  which  converted  them  in  a  moment' 
Why  should  1  make  myself  a  perpetual  martyr 
to  forward  a  work,  which  one  of  those  happy 
moments  shall  perfectly  consummate?  These 
are  the  first  difticulties,  and  the  first  examples, 
you  adduce. 

You  oppose,  in  the  second  plea,  the  case  of 
those  sinners,  who,  after  committing  the  great- 
est crimes,  have  found,  on  the  first  efforts  of 
repentance,  the  arms  of  mercy  open  for  their 
reception.  Of  this  class,  there  are  many  in  the 
Scriptures;  the  principal  are  that  of  David; 
that  of  St.  Peter;  that  of  St.  Paul;  and  that  of 
the  converted  thief,  which  has  a  nearer  con- 
nexion with  our  subject  than  any  of  the  others. 
These  arc  names,  which  the  wicked  have  con- 
tinually in  their  mouths;  and  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged, that  they  are  distinguished  monu- 
ments of  divine  mercy.  It  would  seem  that 
you  may  deduce  from  them  this  consequence, 
that  to  whatever  degree  you  may  have  carried 
vice,  there  is  some  ground  to  expect  pardon 
and  salvation. 

After  so  many  examples  of  divine  mercy, 
sinners  will  readily  say,  how  is  it  that  you 
alarm  us  with  so  many  fears?  Why  draw  so 
many  terrific  portraits  of  the  justice  of  God? 
And  why  exclude  the  sinner,  however  corrupt, 
from  the  throne  of  grace?  I  who  may  have  a 
secret  intrigue,  scarcely  suspected,  very  far 
from  being  known  to  the  world,  shall  I  have 
more  difficulty  in  obtaining  mercy  than  David, 
who  committed  adultery  in  the  face  of  all  Is- 
rael? I  who  may  have  absented  myself  for  a 
time  from  the  true  church,  shall  I  have  more 
difficulty  in  obtaining  mercy  than  St.  Paul, 
who  persecuted  the  saints;  or  St.  Peter,  who 
openly  denied  his  Master,  and  in  his  Master's 
presence?  I  who  have  not  directly  robbed,  but 
have  been  contented  with  acquiring  goods  by 
means  clandestine  indeed,  but  at  the  same  time 
sanctioned  by  example,  by  custom,  by  the 
usages  of  fraud,  and  art;  by  palliated  lies,  and 
oaths  contrary  to  truth,  but  essential  in  the 
employment  to  which  I  am  providentially  call- 
ed; shall  I  be  more  culpable  than  the  convert- 
ed thief  who  robbed  on  the  highway?  What 
should  hinder  me  then  from  following  those 
personages  in  vice  during  life,  reserving  time 
to  throw  myself  into  the  arms  of  mercy,  and 
imitate  their  repentance,  in  my  last  hours? 

Have  you,  sinners,  said  enough?  Are  these 
all  your  hiiUlen  things  of  dishonesty,  and  all  the 
frivolous  pretences  in  which  you  are  cradled 
by  the  demon  of  security?  See  then  to  what 
tends  your  religion,  and  the  use  you  make  of 
our  Scriptures.  The  Holy  Spirit  has  there 
delineated  the  lives  of  those  illustrious  men 
who  once  were  vessels  of  honour  in  the  Lord's 
house;  he  has  "  surrounded  you  with  a  cloud 
of  witnesses,"  for  animation  in  your  course, 
by  the  example  of  men  like  yourselves,  who 
have  finished  it  with  joy.  He  has  also  left 
you  a  history  of  their  defects,  to  excite  you  to 
vigilance,  saying  to  every  sinner,  take  care,  if 
those  distinguislied  saints  stumbled,  what  will 
thy  fall  be  when  thou  shalt  relax?  If  those 
main  pillars  have  been  shaken,  what  has  not 
the  bruised  reed  to  fear?     If  the  cedars  of  Le- 


first  converts  to  Christianity?  Why  may  I  not  banon  have  been  ready  to  tumble,  what  shall 
expect  the  irradiations  which  enlightened,  the  be  the  destiny  of  the  hyssop  of  the  wall?  To 
aids  which    attracted,  and    the    omnipotent  I  those  reiloctions  you  are  deaf;  and  to  deceive 


2G2 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


the  Eternal  Wisdom,  and  "  to  bo  wiser  in  your 
foolish  generation,"  than  tiio  feather  of  lights 
himself,  you  draw  from  these  exam|)lcs,  design- 
ed to  maite  you  wise,  motives  to  confirm  you 
in  your  crimes.  We  shall  endeavour  to  ex- 
amine the  whole  of  your  sopliisms. 

We  shall  first  make  this  general  obser\'ation; 
that  when  we  said  in  tiie  preceding  discourse, 
we  must,  in  order  to  acquire  the  habit  of  piety, 
perform  its  duties,  and  to  obtain  admission  at 
the  throne  of  grace,  we  must  demonstrate  our 
faith  by  a  course  of  virtuous  actions,  we  told 
you  only  what  coimnonly  occurs  in  tiic  course 
of  religion.  Wo  did  not  include  in  our  re- 
marks, the  overjjowering  and  extraordinary 
operations  of  grace.  For  God,  who  was  pleas- 
ed sometimes  to  supersede  tiie  laws  of  nature, 
supersedes  ahso,  on  some  occasions,  tiie  laws  of 
religion,  by  graciously  enlarging  the  limits  of 
the  new  covenant.  The  laws  followed  in  na- 
ture are  wisely  cstablisJicd.  He  has  assigned  a 
pavilion  to  the  sun,  and  balanced  tiie  earth  on 
its  poles.  He  has  proscribed  boundaries  to  the 
sea,  and  obliged  this  imjietuous  element  to  re- 
spect the  commands  of  its  Creator.  "  Hither- 
to shall  thou  come,  but  no  farther;  and  here 
shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed,"  Job  xxxviii. 
1 1.  We  have  likewise  seen  him  supersede  tlie 
laws  of  nature,  and  discover  as  much  wisdom 
in  their  suspension  as  he  manifested  in  tlieir 
establishment.  We  have  sometimes  seen  the 
earth  quake;  the  sun  stop  and  suspend  his 
course;  the  waters  of  the  sea  advancing  before, 
or  retiring  behind,  "  divide  tliemselves  as  a 
wall  on  the  rigiit  hand,  and  on  tiie  left,"  Exod. 
xiv.  22,  as  well  to  favour  iiis  chosen  jieople,  as 
to  confound  the  rebellious  nation.  Just  so  the 
laws  of  religion,  and  the  conditions  of  his 
covenant,  are  also  perfectly  wise,  and  equally 
founded  on  goodness  and  equity;  meanwhile 
Ciod  is  plea.sed  sonictiines  to  suspend  tlicin, 
ajid  to  enlarge  tlie  limits  of  grace. 

This  tho\ight  aptly  applies  to  many  of  the 
cases  you  adduce,  and  particularly  to  instanta- 
neous conversions.  They  arc  not  the  usual 
way  in  which  the  Holy  Spirit  proceeds;  tliey 
do  not  occur  in  the  ordinary  course  of  religion. 
They  are  exceptions  to  the  general  laws;  they 
are  miracles.  Instead,  therefore,  of  judging 
of  the  general  laws  of  religion,  by  these  ])arti- 
cular  instances,  you  should  reclily  your  notion 
of  them  by  tho.sc  general  laws.  Ah!  temjiori/- 
ing  directors,  apostate  casuists,  pests  of  the 
public,  you  compose  your  penitents  with  de- 
ceitful hope.     This  is  our  first  solution. 

When  a  physician,  after  exhausting  all  the 
powers  of  art  to  restore  the  sick,  finds  his  pre- 
scriptions bailled,  his  endeavour  without  ellect, 
and  bis  skill  destitute  of  resource;  when  lie 
finds  the  brain  delirious,  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  irregular,  the  chest  o])presscd,  and  na- 
ture ready  to  fall  under  the  pressure  of  disease, 
he  says,  it  is  a  lost  case.  He  presumes  not  to 
say,  that  God  cannot  heal  him;  nor  that  he  has 
never  seen  a  recovery  in  similar  circumstances; 
he  speaks  according  to  the  course  of  nature; 
ho  judges  according  to  the  rules  of  art;  he  de- 
cides as  a  pliysician,  and  not  as  a  worker  of 
miracles,  .lust  so,  wIkmi  we  see  a  man  in  the 
church,  who  h;us  persisted  thirty,  forty,  or  fifty 
years  in  a  course  of  crimes;  when  wo  see  this 


man  struck  with  death,  that  his  first  concern  is 
for  the  health  of  his  body,  that  he  calls  both 
nature  and  art  to  his  assistance;  but  his  hopes 
being  lost,  with  ri-çrard  to  the  world,  he  turns 
his  attention  towards  religion;  he  makes  a 
mighty  ado  about  conversion;  he  weeps,  he 
groans,  he  prays;  that  he  discovers  to  us  the 
semblance  of  rcjientance  and  conversion:  we 
aver  that  this  man's  state  is  doubtful,  and  ex- 
ceedingly doubtful.  15ut  wc  speak  according 
to  the  ordinary  course  of  religion:  knowing 
that  God  is  almighty,  we  exclude  not  the  oc- 
currence of  miracles.  Jlcnce  all  the  cases  you 
adduce  are  prodigies  of  conversion,  in  which 
(Jod  has  exceeded  ordinary  laws,  and  from 
which  no  conclusions  can  be  drawn;  and  all 
that  you  add  on  the  power  of  God,  on  the  ir- 
resistible, renovating,  and  victorious  efficacy 
of  grace,  however  solid  on  other  occasions, 
when  applied  to  this  subject,  are  empty  de- 
clamations, and  foreign  to  the  point. 

iJutare  all  those  examples  of  conversion  and 
repentance  miracles?  No,  my  brethren,  nor  is 
this  the  whole  of  our  reply:  and  had  we  prov- 
ed that  they  arc  all  such  in  eft'ect,  we  should 
indeed  have  done  little,  and  you  might  have 
returned  home,  flattered,  perhaps,  that  God 
would  work  the  same  prodigies  for  you  in  a 
dying  hour.  Let  us  enter  into  a  more  minute 
discussion;  let  us  remark, — and  this  is  our 
grand  solution, — let  us  remark,  that  among  all 
the  sinners  wliose  conversion  you  adduce,  there 
is  not  one,  no  not  one,  in  the  condition  of  the 
Christian,  who  neglecting  his  salvation,  pre- 
sumes to  otler  to  God  only  the  dregs  of  life, 
and  the  hist  groans  of  expiring  nature.  No; 
of  all  those  sinners,  there  is  not  one  who  was 
in  the  situation  of  such  a  man;  consequentlv, 
there  is  not  one,  no  not  one,  who  can  afford 
the  shadow  of  a  rational  excuse  to  flatter  the 
men  we  now  attack.  Let  us  illustrate  this  re- 
flection; it  is  of  the  last  im))ortance.  You 
may  remark  five  essential  distinctions.  They 
dirtered — eitlier  with  regard  to  their  light — or 
with  regard  to  their  motives — or  with  regard 
to  the  duration  of  their  crime — or  with  regard 
to  their  virtues — or  with  regard  to  the  certain- 
ty of  their  rejienlaiice  and  conversion:  five 
considerations,  my  brcliiren,  which  you  cannot 
too  dcojily  inculcate  on  j'our  minds.  Some  of 
tliem  apjily  to  the  whole,  others  to  a  part. 
Let  eacii»of  you  apply  to  himself  that  portion 
of  our  remarks  on  these  conversions  which 
corresponds  with  his  case. 

Speaking  first  of  the  illumination  of  those 
two  classes  of  sinners,  we  allirin  that  there  is 
an  essential  dillercnce  between  the  men  whose 
example  is  adduced,  and  the  Christians  who 
delay  conversion.  Of  all  those  sinners,  there 
was  not  one,  who  possessed  the  light  which 
wo  have  at  the  ])resent  day.  Zaccheus,  the 
apostle,  the  prophets,  Uavid,  and  all  the  per- 
sons at  tiie  ])eriod  in  ([uestion,  were  in  this  re- 
spect inferior  to  the  most  ignorant  Christian. 
Jesus  Christ  has  decided,  that  "  the  least  in 
tiie  kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater  than  they," 
Luke  vii.  2S.  St.  I'eter  had  not  seen  the  re- 
surrection of  his  Master,  when  he  had  the 
weakness  to  deny  him.  The  converted  thief, 
had,  perhaps,  never  hoard  his  name,  while 
abandoned  to  his  crimes;  and  St.  Paul,  while 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


263 


persecutinir  tho  cliurcli,  followed  tlio  old  i)ro-  j  which  constitutes  a  second  difTcrcnce;  that  is, 

judices  of  Judaism,  "  ho  did  it  ignorantly,"  as  the   motives  which   press  you   to  conversion 

ho  himself  allirrns,  1  Tim.  i.  13  wcro  scarcely  known  to  the  others.     You  are 

This  is  tho  first  consideration  which  O-ggra-  pres.scd  more  than  they  by  motives  of  grati- 

vatcs  your  condemnation,   and    renders  your  tude.     What  were  all  the  favours  which  they 

salvation    doubtful,    if  you   defer   the   work,  received  of  God,  in  comparison  of  those  which 

"  The  gmcc  of  God  has  appeared  to  all  men."  are  heaped   on  you;  you  arc  born  in  "  an  ac- 

You  are  iiorn  in  so  enli;rhtened  an  aye,  that  cojited  time,  in  a  day  of  salvation,"  1  Cor.  vi. 

tho  human  mind  seems  to  have  attained  tho  -;  in  those  happy  days  "  which  so  many  right- 


highest  period  of  j»erfection  to  which  its  weak- 
ness will  iierniit  it  to  arrive.  Philosophy  has 
boon  disencumbered  of  all  ambiguous  terms, 
of  all  useless  punctilios,  and  of  all  tho  pom- 
pous nothings,  which  confused,  rather  than 
formed  tiie  minds  of  youth;  and  our  systems 
of  moral  philosopliy  seem  to  have  attained  per- 
fection. 'J'iieok»:,ry  is  purged,  at  least  on  most 
subjects,  and  W(ju1(1  to  (Jod  that  it  was  alto- 
gether purged  of  the  abstruse  researches,  and 
triHiiigdis(|uisitions,  whicii  amused  our  fathers. 
It'  some  weak  minds  still  follow  tho  former  no- 
tions, they  only  render  themselves  ridiculous, 
weary  the  jiooplc,  disgust  the  learned,  and  are 
left  to  detiiil  their  maxims  to  the  dusty  walls 
of  their  half  deserted  schools. 

How  clearly  have  they  proved,  for  instance, 
the  being  of  God?  On  liow  many  clear,  easy, 
and  demonstrative  evidences,  have  they  esta- 
blished this  fundamental  article  of  religion? 
How  clearly  have  they  illustrated  the  doctrine 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul?  How  admira- 
bly has  philosophy  coincided  with  religion  on 
this  article,  to  disengage  spirit  I'roin  matter,  to 
mark  the  functions  of  each  substance,  to  dis- 
tinguish which  belongs  to  the  body,  and  which 
to  the  mind?  How  clearly  also  have  they 
proved  the  truth  of  religioit'  With  what  in- 
dustry have  they  investigated  the  abyss  of  an- 
cient literature,  demonstrated  and  rendered 
palpable  the  prodigies  achieved  seventeen  cen- 
turies ago? 

I  speak  not  this  to  make  an  eulogium  on  our 
age,  and  elevate  it  in  your  esteem.  I  have, 
my  brethren,  views  more  exalted.  All  the 
knowledge  of  this  period  is  dispensed  by  that 
wise  Providence  which  watches  over  your  sal- 
vation, and  it  will  serve  for  your  refutation. 
Tho  economy  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  illumi- 
nates your  mind,  has  been  fully  discussed.  If, 
therefore,  it  be  true,  that  tho  atrocity  of  sin  is 
proportionate  to  the  knowledge  of  tho  delin- 
quent;— if  it  be  true,  that  those  "  who  know 
their  Master's  will,  and  do  it  not,  shall  be 
punished  with  more  stripes  than  those  who 
are  ignorant  and  negligent,"  Luke  xii.  '17; — if 
it  be  true,  that  the  sin  of  such  persons  remains, 
as  Jesus  Christ  has  alfirmed,  John  ix.  41; — if 
it  be  true,  that  "  it  wcro  better  not  to  have 
known  the  way  of  righteousness,  than  to  turn 
from  the  holy  commandment,"  2  Pet.  ii.  21; — 
if  it  be  true,  that  God  will  require  five  talents 
of  those  who  have  received  rtve,  while  those 
who  have  received  but  two  shall  be  account- 


eous  men,  and  prophets  had  desired  to  see,' 
.Matt.  xiii.  17.  You  are  j)ressed  more  than 
they  by  motives  of  interest,  "you  have  receiv- 
ed of  his  fulness,  and  grace  for  grace,"  John  i. 
IG;  you  to  whom  Christ  has  "revealed  im- 
mortality and  life,"  2  Tim.  i.  10;  who  having 
received  such  jiromiscs  you  ought  to  bo  the 
more  separated  "  from  all  hlthiness  of  the  flesh 
and  of  tho  spirit," — more  than  they,  by  mo- 
lives  of  fear,  "for  knowing  the  terrors  of  tho 
Lord,"  you  ought  to  be  tho  more  obedient  to 
his  will.  More  than  they  by  motives  of  emu- 
lation; you  have  not  only  "  the  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses," but  the  grand  pattern,  the  model  of 
perfection,  who  has  left  us  so  fine  an  example 
that  we  should  tread  in  his  steps;  who  lias 
said,  "  Learn  of  mo,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly 
of  heart,"  Matt.  xi.  29.  Looking  unto  Jesus 
tho  author  and  finisher  of  your  faith;  you 
ought,  according  to  St.  Paul's  exhortation,  to 
bo  induced  "  not  to  cast  away  your  confi- 
dence," Hob.  X.  35.  More  than  lliey  by  tho 
grandeur  of  your  heavenly  birth;  "  you  have 
not  received  the  spirit  of  bondage  unto  fear, 
but  the  Spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we  cry, 
Abba,  Prattler,"  Kom.  viii.  15. 

What  is  the  result  of  all  these  arguments? 
If  you  have  more  motives,  you  are  more  cul- 
pable; and  if  you  are  more  culpable,  the  mercy 
whicli  they  have  obtained,  concludes  nothing 
in  your  favour;  and  the  objection,  which  you 
derive  from  example,  is  altogether  sophistical. 
And  what  is  worse,  this  superabundance  of 
motives  renders  your  conversion  more  difficult, 
and  thereby  destroys  the  hopes  you  found  on 
their  example.  For  though  the  Holy  Spirit 
has  a  supreme  power  over  the  heart,  nothing, 
however,  is  more  certain,  that  in  promoting 
our  conversion,  he  acts  with  us  as  rational  be- 
ings, and  in  conformity  to  our  nature;  he  pro- 
poses motives,  and  avails  himself  of  their  force, 
to  induce  us  to  duty.  Conse(juently,  when  the 
heart  has  long  resisted  the  grand  motives  of 
conversion,  it  thereby  becomes  obdurate. 

How  were  those  miraculous  conversions  ef- 
fectuated to  which  you  appeal?  It  was  in  a 
way  toUilly  inapplicable  to  you.  The  first 
time  Zaccheus  saw  Jesus  Christ,  he  received 
the  promise  of  salvation.  Zacclieus  feeling, 
by  the  efficacy  of  grace,  the  force  of  a  motive 
which  had  never  been  proposed  before,  yielded 
immediately  without  hesitation.  The  converts, 
on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  were  in  suspense  con- 
cerning what   opinion    they  should   form  of 


able  but  for  two.  Matt.  .xxv. — If  it  be  true,  that    Jesus  Christ:  they  had  crucified  him  in  igno- 


it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon, 
than  for  Chorazin  and  Bethsaida; — it  is  also 
true,  that  your  arguments  are  sophistical;  that 
the  example  of  those  sinners  can  atford  you 
nothing  but  deceitful  hopes,  which  llatter  the 
delay  of  ronversion. 

From  this  last  consideration  eirises  auolber, 


ranee,  and  Jerusalem  remained  undecided  what 
to  think  of  him  after  his  death.  The  apostles 
])reachod;  they  jiroved  by  their  miracles  the 
truth  of  his  resurrection.  Then  those  men, 
being  struck  with  motives  never  before  pro- 
posed, yielded  at  once.  Thus  tho  Holy  Spirit 
operated  in  their  hearts;  but  in  a  manner  con- 


264 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[SïR.  LXXXI. 


formable  to  their  nature,  proposing  motives, 
and  employing  their  force  to  captivate  the 
heart. 

But  these  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  have 
lost  their  effect  with  regard  to  you.  What 
motives  can  be  in  future  proposed,  which  have 
not  been  urged  a  thousand  times,  and  which 
have  conseciuently  lost  tiieir  efhcacy.''  Is  it  the 
mercy  of  God.'  That  you  have  turned  into 
lasciviousness.     Is  it  the  image  of  Jesus  Christ 


refuted  with  the  same  ease.  And  though  the 
whole  of  these  probabilities  were  refuted,  how 
many  criminating  circumstances  occur  in  your 
life  which  were  not  in  his.'  We  said,  that  he 
had  not  received  the  education  which  you  have; 
he  had  not  received  the  torrent  of  grace,  with 
which  you  are  inundated;  he  was  unacquainted 
with  a  thousand  motives,  w'hich  operate  on 
you;  the  moment  he  saw  Jesus  Christ,  he 
loved  him,  and  he  believed  on  him.     How  was 


crucified?    Him  you  daily  crucify  afresh,  with-  I  that'     With  what  faith?     At  what  time?     In  a 


out  remorse  and  without  repentance.  Is  it  the 
hope  of  heaven?  You  look  only  at  "the  things 
which  are  seen."  Is  it  tlie  fear  of  hell?  That 
has  been  painted  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
times,  and  you  have  acquired  the  art  of  braving 
its  terrors  and  torments.  If  God  should,  there- 
fore, employ  in  your  behalf  the  same  degree 
of  power,  which  eflectuated  those  instantane- 
ous conversions,  it  would  be  found  insufficient; 
if  he  should  employ  for  you  the  same  miracle, 
that  miracle  would  be  too  weak.  It  would  re- 
quire a  more  abundant  portion  of  grace  to  con- 
vert you,  than  it  did  to  convert  the  others; 
consequently,  a  miracle,  less  distinguished  than 
was  afforded  them,  concludes  nothing  in  favour 
of  that,  which  is  the  object  of  your  hope,  and 
the  flimsy  foundation  of  your  security. 

A  third  difference  is  derived  from  the  dura- 
tion of  their  crimes.  Of  all  the  sinners  we 
have  enumerated,  if  we  may  except  the  con- 
verted thief,  there  is  not  one  who  persevered 
in  vice  to  the  close  of  life-  St.  Peter,  St.  Paul, 
and  Uavid,  were  but  a  few  moments,  but  a 
few  days,  or  a  few  years  at  most,  entangled  in 
sin.  They  consecrated  the  best  part  of  life  to 
the  service  of  God.  They  were  unfaithful  in 
a  few  instances,  but  afterward  their  fidelity 
was  unremitting. 


manner  the  most  heroic  in  the  world:  a  faith 
like  his  was  never  found  in  Israel.  At  the 
time  when  Jesus  Christ  was  fixed  on  the  cross; 
when  he  was  pierced  with  tlie  nails;  when  he 
was  delivered  to  an  infuriated  populace;  when 
they  spit  upon  him;  when  ho  was  mocked  by 
the  Greek;  when  he  was  rejected  by  the  Jew; 
when  he  was  betrayed  by  Judas;  when  St.  Peter 
denied  him;  when  his  disciples  fled;  when  Jesua 
made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon 
himself  the  form  of  a  servant,  the  thief, — the 
thief  seemed  to  have  taken  all  the  faith  to  him- 
self, and  to  constitute  the  whole  church. 
After  all,  this  is  but  a  solitary  example:  if  the 
converted  thief  afford  you  consolation  in  your 
crimes,  tremble,  tremble  sinners,  when  you  cast 
your  eyes  on  him,  who  was  hardened  at  his 
side;  and  let  the  singularity  of  this  late  con- 
version induce  you  to  fear,  lest  you  should  not 
have  been  chosen  of  God,  to  furnish  to  the 
universe  a  second  proof  of  the  success  of  a  con- 
version deferred  to  the  hour  of  death. 

A  fourth  reflection  turns  on  the  virtues  of 
those  sinners,  whose  example  you  adduce.  For 
though  one  criminal  habit  may  suffice,  where 
repentance  is  wanting,  to  plunge  into  the  abyss, 
him  who  is  enslaved  w'ith  it,  whatever  his  vir- 
tues may  be;  yet  there  is  a  vast  disparity  be- 


Their  fall  shook  their  confidence,  but  did  tween  the  state  of  two  men,  one  of  whom  has 
not  overthrow  it:  it  was  enveloped,  but  not  |  fallen,  indeed,  into  a  crime,  but  who  otherwise 
choked;  obscured,  but  not  extinguished.  ,  has  the  virtues  of  a  great  saint;  and  the  other 

1  acknowledge  the  good  thief  seems  to  have,  of  whom  has  fallen  into  the  same  crime,  but  is 
with  the  sinners  we  attack,  the  sad  conformity    wanting  in  those  virtues.     You  bear  with 


of  persisting  in  vice  to  the  end  of  life.  But 
his  history  is  so  short  in  the  gospel,  the  circum- 
stances related  are  so  few,  and  the  conjectures 
we  may  make  on  this  subject  are  so  doubtful 
and  uncertain,  that  a  rational  man  can  find  in 
it,  no  certain  rule  for  the  regulation  of  his 
conduct. 

Who  was  this  thief?  What  was  his  crime? 
What  induced  him  to  commit  it?  What  was 
the  first  instance  of  his  depravity?  What  was 
that  of  his  repentance?  What  means  did  grace 
employ  for  his  conversion?  So  many  questions, 
so  many  doubts,  so  many  sulficient  reasons  for 
inferring  nothing  from  his  conversion.  Per- 
haps he  had  been  engaged  in  this  awful  course 


fault  in  a  servant,  when  he  is  well  qualified 
for  your  service;  but  this  defect  would  be  in- 
supportable in  the  person  of  another,  destitute 
of  tliose  talents. 

Apply  this  remark  to  the  subject  in  hand. 
It  is  to  inquire,  whether  God  will  extend  his 
mercy  to  you  after  the  perpetration  of  notori- 
ous offences.  You  allege,  for  your  comfort, 
the  case  of  those  sinners  who  have  obtained 
mercy;  after  having  proceeded  in  vice,  at  least, 
according  to  your  opinion,  as  far  as  yourselves. 
Take  two  balances:  weigii  with  one  hand  their 
crimes  and  your  crimes:  weigh  with  the  other 
their  virtues  and  your  virtues.  If  the  weights 
are  equal,  your  argument  is  conclusive:   the 


but  a  short  lime.  Perha])s,  seduced  by  an  un-  grace  which  they  have  obtained,  is  an  infallible 
happy  ease,  he  was  less  guilty  of  theft  than  of  test  that  you  sliall  not  be  excluded.  But  if 
softness  and   compliance.     Perhaps   only  the    you  should  find,  on  inquiry,  a  diflerence;  if 


accomplice  of  Barabbas  in  sedition,  he  had  less 
design  of  disturbing  society,  than  of  checking 
the  tyrannic  and  exorbitant  power  of  the  Ro- 
mans. Perhaps,  surprised  by  weakness,  or 
tempted  by  necessity,  he  had  received  sentence 
for  his  first  offence.  Perhaps,  having  languish- 
ed a  long  time  in  prison,  he  had  repented  of 
his  sin.  We  do  not  affirm  these  things,  they 
are  merely  conjectures;  but  all  that  you  can 
object  are  similar  conjectures,  which  may  be 


you  should  find,  on  your  dying  bed,  that  you 
have  resembled  them  in  what  is  odious,  and 
not  in  what  is  acceptable,  do  you  not  perceive, 
my  brethren,  the  impropriety  of  your  presump- 
tion, and  the  absurdity  of  your  hopes' 

Now,  who  is  there,  who  is  there  among  us, 
who  abandons  himself  to  vice,  that  will  com- 
pare himself  with  those  illustrious  saints  in 
regard  to  virtue;  as  it  is  readily  acknowledged 
that  they  resemble  them  in  regard  to  faults? 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  UF  CONVEIISION. 


265 


You  follow,  to-day,  the  multihide  to  do  evil,  as 
Zaccheus,  and,  as  tlio  apostles  before  their  con- 
version: so  far  tlic  parallel  is  just;  but  can  yoti 
prove,  like  tliein,  that  you  obeyed  the  first  calls 
of  Jesus  Christ;  that  you  have  never  been  of- 
fended, either  with  the  severity  of  his  j)reccpts, 
or  with  the  bloody  horrors  of  his  cross  and  mar- 
tyrdom? You  sacrifice,  like  David,  to  an  impu- 
dent Batlisheba,  the  riifhts  of  the  Lord,  wlio 
enjoins  temperance  and  modesty:  so  far  the 
parallel  is  j-ust;  but  have  you,  like  him,  had 
"  the  law  of  God  in  your  heart?"  Have  you, 
like  him,  "  rose  at  midnight,  to  sing  praises  to 
God?"  Have  you,  like  him,  made  charity 
your  glory,  and  piety  your  dcligliL'  You  per- 
secute the  church,  like  St.  Paul,  by  your  mali- 
cious objections,  and  profane  sneers;  you  draw 
away  disciples,  as  the  zealot  once  did,  by  per- 
secutions and  punishments:  so  far  the  parallel 
is  just;  but  have  you  asked  Jesus  Christ,  as  he 
did,  the  first  moment  he  appeared  to  him  in 
the  way  to  Damascus,  "  Lord,  what  wouldst 
thou  have  me  to  do?"  Have  you  neither  con- 
ferred with  Hesh  nor  blood,  when  required,  like 
him,  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  abjure  the 
prejudices  of  your  fathers?  Has  your  zeal  re- 
sembled his,  so  as  to  feel  your  spirit  stirred 
within  you,  at  the  sight  of  a  superstitious  altar? 
And  has  your  love  resembled  his,  so  as  to  be 
billing  to  be  accursed  for  your  brethren?  You 
have  denied  Jesus  Christ,  as  St.  Peter;  and 
that  criminal  laxity,  which  induced  you  to 
comply  in  such  and  such  company,  when  virtue 
was  attacked,  has  made  you  like  this  apostle, 
who  denied  him  in  the  court  of  Caiaphas:  so 
far  the  parallel  is  just;  but  have  you,  like  him, 
burned  with  zeal  for  the  interests  of  his  glory? 
Have  you  said,  with  an  ardour  like  his,  "Lord, 
thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee?"  Have  you. 
like  him,  prodigal  of  your  blood,  been  ready 
to  seal  the  truths  of  the  gospel;  and,  after  be- 
ing made  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  are  you, 
like  him,  ready  to  bo  offered  up?  You,  like 
the  thief,  have  that  false  weiglit,  and  that  short 
measure,  which  you  secretly  use  on  your 
counter,  and  in  your  warehouse;  or  that  au- 
thority which  you  openly  abuse  in  the  face  of 
the  world,  and  on  the  seat  of  justice:  you 
liberal  culprits,  who,  perha])s,  have  imposed 
on  strangers,  or  attacked  them  with  open 
force:  so  far  the  parallel  is  just;  but  have 
you,  like  him,  had  eyes,  which  penetrated 
through  the  clouds,  with  which  Christ  was 
surrounded  on  the  cross?  }lave  you,  like  him, 
discovered  the  God  of  heaven  and  earth,  in 
the  person  of  the  crucified  Redeemer?  Have 
j'ou,  like  him,  repaired,  with  the  sincerity  of 
your  expiring  brealii,  the  crimes  of  your  whole 
life?  if  the  parallel  be  still  just,  your  argu- 
ment is  good,  and  your  recourse  to  mercy  shall 
be  attended  with  the  same  success.  15ut  if 
the  parallel  be  defective;  if  you  find,  on  your 
death-bed,  that  you  have  followed  those  cha- 
racters solely  in  what  was  sinful,  then  your 
argument  is  false;  and  you  ought,  at  least,  to 
relin(iuish  the  hopes  you  have  founded  on  their 
examj)les. 

5.  We  find,  in  short,  another  difference  be- 
tween the  men  who  delay  conversion,  and  the 
sinners,  whose  cases  they  adduce;  it  is  certain 
that  they  were  converted  and  obtained  mercy, 
whereas  it  is  e.xtremely  doubtful  whether  Uie 
Vol.  II. -31 


others  shall  ever  obtain  it,  and  be  converted. 
What,  according  to  your  mode  of  arguing, 
constitutes  the  strength  of  your  objection,  be- 
comes the  solidity  of  our  reply.  A  sinner,  in 
the  career  of  crimes,  is  in  a  fluctuating  condi- 
tion, placed  between  life  and  death;  equally  un- 
certain whether  he  shall  obtain  salvation,  or 
become  the  victim  of  perdition.  These  then, 
men  who  delay  conversion,  thcso  are  the  sin- 
ners wo  have  to  attack.  You  allege  the  case 
of  characters,  whose  state  has  been  already  de- 
termined; and  whose  repentance  has  been  real- 
ized by  e.Tj)crience.  Each  of  these,  while,  like 
you,  habituated  to  vice,  was,  like  you,  uncer- 
tain whether  they  should  obtain  mercy,  or 
whether  the  door  would  be  shut.  Access  has 
been  opened,  pardon  has  been  granted.  Thus 
the  question  is  decided;  and  all  doubts,  with 
regard  to  them,  are  done  away. 

Hut  your  situation  is  quite  the  reverse. 
You  have  the  sins  of  their  fluctuating  state, 
not  the  grace  of  their  determined  condition, 
which  induces  a  favourable  confidence.  In 
this  painful  suspense,  who  is  in  the  right' 
We,  who  tremble  at  the  awful  risk  you  run; 
or  you,  who  rely  on  the  precarious  hope  of 
extricating  yourselves  from  sin?  Who  is  in 
the  right'  Those  accommodating  guides,  who, 
in  your  greatest  profligacy,  continually  assure 
you  of  the  divine  mercy,  which  serves  merely 
as  a  pretext  to  confirm  you  in  crimes;  or  we, 
who  brandish  before  your  eyes  the  awful  sword 
of  justice,  to  alarm  your  indolence,  and  rouse 
you  from  soft  security? 

Collect  now,  my  brethren,  all  this  variety  of 
reflections;  and,  if  there  remain  with  you  a 
shadow  of  honesty,  renounce  the  advantage 
you  pretend  to  derive  from  these  examples. 
Consider,  that  many  of  these  conversions  are 
not  only  out  of  the  common  course  of  religion, 
but  also  that  they  could  not  have  been  effec- 
tuated by  less  than  miraculous  powers.  Con- 
sider that,  among  all  those  sinners,  there  was 
not  one  in  the  situation  of  a  Christian,  who 
delays  conversion  to  the  close  of  life.  Consi- 
der that  you  are  enlightened  with  meridian 
lustre,  which  they  have  scarcely  seen.  Consi- 
der that  you  are  pressed  with  a  thousand  mo- 
tives totally  unknown  to  them.  Consider, 
that  they  continued,  for  tlie  most  part,  but  a 
short  time  in  sin;  but  you  have  wasted  life  in 
folly.  Consider,  that  they  possessed  distin- 
guished virtues,  whici»  rendered  them  dear  to 
God;  but  you  have  nothing  to  offer  him  but 
dissi])ation  or  indolence.  Consider,  that  they 
were  distinguished  by  reiicntancc,  and  afforded 
lasting  proofs  of  their  sincerity:  whereas  it  is 
still  doubtful  whether  you  shall  ever  be  con- 
verted, and  you  go  the  way  to  make  it  impos- 
sible. See,  tlien,  whether  your  arguments  are 
just,  and  whether  your  ho])es  are  properly 
Ibnndcd. 

'J'hese  examples,  wo  acknowledge,  my  bre- 
thren, are  very  encouraging  to  those  who  dili- 
gently endeavour  to  reform.  We  delight  in 
enforcing  them  to  those  contrite  and  simple 
souls;  to  consciences  bruised  and  tender  that 
tremble  at  tîod's  word.  AVe  came  not  to 
straiten  the  way  to  heaven;  we  came  not  to 
jueach  a  severe  morality,  and  to  announce  a 
divinity  ferocious  and  cruel.  A\'ould  to  God 
that  every  sinner,  in  tliis  assembly,  would  re- 


260 


ON  TUE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


collect  himself,  and  swell  the  catiilogue  of  con- 
▼crts,  in  which  grace  has  been  triiiniphaiit! 
But  Imnlcned  men  «an  infer  notiiing  hence, 
except  alarming  considerations. 

Uitlierto  we  have  examined  tiio  cases  of 
those  sinners,  who  apparently  contradict  our 
principles;  let  us,  in  the  next  place,  liricHy  re- 
view those,  by  wiiidi  they  arc  conlinned. 
Let  us  prove  that  the  lonj^f-siillering  of  (Jod 
has  its  limits;  and  that  in  ord(;r  to  fnid  him 
propitious,  we  must  "seek  the  Lord  while  he 
may  be  found,  and  call  upon  him  while  he  is 
near."     Tliis  is  our  scjcond  head. 

II.  Tlirce  distiii^niishcd  <l;is.scs  of  cxam|)h'S, 
my  brethren,  three  alanninir  moiunMcnls,  con- 
firm those  illustrious  truliis.     The-se  are — 

I.  Public  catastro|)hcs.  II.  Obdinatc  sin- 
ners. III.  Dying  men. — Happy  arc  they  who 
are  cautioned  by  the  calamities  of  others! 

I.  Public  catastrophes.  Tiierc  is  to  every 
government,  to  every  nation,  and  to  every 
church,  a  limited  day  of  visitation:  thc^re  is  a 
time  in  which  the  Lord  may  he  found,  and  a 
time  in  which  he  will  not  ho  found.  "  A  lime 
when  he  may  bo  found:"  when  commerce 
flourishes,  when  families  prosper,  when  armies 
conquer,  when  politics  succeed,  when  the  tem- 
ples are  open,  when  the  solcnm  feasts  are  ob- 
served, and  the  faithful  sny  one  to  another, 
"  O  come,  let  us  go  up  to  tho  mountain  of  the 
Lord."  This  is  the  time  irlitn  the  l.iml  iixnj  be 
found.  Happy  time,  wiiich  would  have  been 
restricted  only  by  the  duration  of  the  world, 
had  not  the  ingratitude  of  man  inlroduce(l 
another  time,  in  which  Ihc  Lord  vill  not  he 
found.  Then  connncKJo  lan;niislies,  liimilics 
degenerate,  armies  arc  deicated,  politics  are 
confused,  churches  are  overturniHl,  the  solemn 
feasts  subside;  "  and  tho  earth,"  according  to 
the  expression  of  JNIoscs,  "vomilelh  out  its  in- 
habitants." 

Isaiah  has  given  ns  a  proof  of  this  awful 
truth,  in  the  .Jews  of  his  own  age.  1  Ic  preach- 
ed, he  prayed,  he  exhorted,  he  threatened,  he 
thundered.  How  often  was  his  voice  luiard  in 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem!  Sometimes  he  would 
draw  them  with  the  cords  of  love;  sometimes 
he  would  save  them  "  with  fear,  ])ulliiig  them 
out  of  the  fire."  How  often  did  he  tlumdcr 
those  terrific  words—"  Behold  the  Lord,  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  doth  take  away  IVom  .lerusalem, 
and  from  Judah,  the  slay  and  the  stalf,  the 
whole  stay  of  bread,  and  the  whole  stay  of  wa- 
ter; the  mighty  man,  and  the  man  of  war;  tiie 
judge,  and  the  prophet,  and  the  prudeiit,  and 
the  ancient,  and  IIk;  captain  of  lil'ty;  and  the 
honourable  man,  and  the  c<iiniscllor,  an<l  cun- 
ning artificer,  and  the  elonuent  orator,"  Isa.  iii. 
1 — 3.  How  often  did  he  say  to  them,  by  di- 
vine authority — "  Hear  ye  what  I  will  do  to 
my  vineyard;  1  will  take  away  the  hedge  tlieie- 
M,  and  it  shall  be  eaten  up;  and  break  down 
the  wall  thereof,  and  it  shall  he  trodden  down; 
and  1  wdl  lay  it  wa.sliî;  it  .shall  not  he  |.rnncd 
nor  diggeil,  hut  tlujre  shall  come  up  briers  and 
thorns.  1  will  al-^o  connnand  the  clouds,  that 
they  rain  no  rain  upon  it,"  ver.  5,  (i.  How 
often  did  he  uplill  the  veil  of  fiilnro  times,  and 
represent  the  Chaldcinis  npiuoaching;  .lerusa- 
lem besieged;  the  city  encundiercd  with  the 
dead;  the  temple  of  tin-  Lord  redui  cd  to  heaps 
of  stones;  the  holy  mountain  streaming  willi 


blood;  Judea  buried  in  ashes,  or  swimming 
with  the  blood  of  its  inhabitanta'  How  often 
witli  a  voice  yet  more  tender  did  he  cry,  "  O 
that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  connnand- 
ment!  Why  should  ye  he  stricken  any  more? 
Ye  will  revolt  more  and  more:  the  whole  head 
is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  faint.  From  the 
sole  of  the  foot  even  unto  the  crown  of  the 
head,  there  is  no  soundness  in  it,"  Isa.  i.  5,  6. 
"  Howl,  ()  gate,  cry,  <J  City,  thou  whole  Pale.s- 
tina  art  dissolved,"  Isa.  xiv.  31.  "  Enter  into 
the  ro(;k,  and  hide  thee  in  the  dust  for  the  fear 
of  the  Lord,"  Isa.  ii.  10.  That  was  the  time 
to  avert  all  these  calamities;  that  w;us  the  aim 
of  the  prophet  and  the  design  of  our  text. 
Hut  the  .lews  hardened  themselves  against  his 
Voice,  (iod  pronounced  the  sentence;  he  exe- 
cuted his  word:  he  f:onmiandcd  the  Chaldeans 
to  invest  the  walls  of  .lerusalem;  and  then 
says  the  sacred  historian,  "  there  was  no  reme- 
dy," ii  Chron.  xxxvi.  IG.  The  Israelites  made 
many  efforts  to  appea.se  the  wrath  of  Heaven; 
the  aged  raised  aloud  their  jtlaintivc  and  trem- 
bling voices,  the  young  poured  forth  a  mourn- 
ful and  piercing  cry;  the  daughters  of  Jerusa- 
lem lifted  up  their  lamentations  to  Heaven; 
the  priests  wept  aloud  between  the  porch  antl 
the  altar,  they  said  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
times,  "  Si)are  thy  [leople,  O  Lord,  and  givo 
not  llnne  heritage  imto  shame,"  Joel  ii.  17. 
But  the  deed  was  done,  the  time  was  past,  Iht 
Lord  ipould  not  be  found,  and  all  this  semblance 
of  re|)entance,  the  smallest  jjortion  of  which 
would  perhaps,  on  another  occasion,  have  suf- 
ficed to  disarm  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  was  now 
without  etlect.  This  is  expres.sed  in  so  noble 
and  energetic  a  manner,  that  we  woidd  for 
ever  imprint  it  on  your  memory.  "  The  Lord 
God  of  their  fathers  sent  to  them  his  messen- 
gers, rising  u|)  betimes  and  sending,  because 
he  had  compassion  on  his  people.  Hut  they 
mocked  the  messengers  of  God,  and  despised 
his  words,  till  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  arose 
against  his  people.  Therefore  he  brought 
upon  them  tlie  king  of  the  Chaldees,  who  slew 
the  young  ]>e(j;)le  with  the  sword,  and  had  no 
compassion  on  the  young  man,  nor  the  aged, 
nor  the  infirm.  They  burnt  the  house  of  God, 
and  demolished  his  palaces,"  2  Chron.  xxxvi. 
15—17. 

\Vhat  happened  to  ancient  Jerusalem,  liap- 
])ened  also  to  modern  Jerusjilem;  I  would  say, 
.li^rusalem  as  it  stood  in  oin-  Saviour's  time.  A 
thousand  oracles  had  jiredictcd  the  advent  id' 
th(!  Messiah;  the  prophets  had  said  that  ho 
was  about  to  come;  St.  John  the  l!a|)tist  af- 
firmed, that  he  was  at  the  door;  Jesus  Christ 
came,  in  short,  saying.  Here  1  am.  He  walked 
in  the  streets  of  Jcru.salem,  he  instructed  them 
by  his  doctrine,  he  astonished  them  by  his  mi- 
racles, he  influenced  them  by  his  example;  he 
cried  in  their  a.sscndjiies,  "  Walk  while  you 
have  the  light,  hîst  darkness  come  nj>on  you," 
John  xii.  \it).  "  U  JerusaliMU,  Jerusalem,  thou 
that  killest  the  jiropbets,  and  stoncst  them  that 
are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  havo 
gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen 
gatherelh  her  thickens  under  her  wings,  and 
ye  would  not,"  Malt,  xxiii.  37.  That  was  the 
time;  hut  they  sutlered  (he  jireeious  moments 
to  escajie.  .And  what  did  Je.sus  Christ  add? 
"  lie  wept  over  it,  saying,  If  thou  hadst  known, 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DF:r,AY  OF  CONVERSION. 


267 


even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  tlio  tilings 
which  belong  unto  tliy  jteace!  but  now  tiiciy  are 
hid  from  thine  eyes,"  Luitc  xix.  12.  Do  you 
feel  all  the  force  of  these  last  words,  "  now 
tlicy  arc  liid  from  tliine  eyes?"  Jerusalem  was 
not,  however,  yet  destroyed;  the  teiii))h!  still 
8lood;  the  Romans  offered  them  ])ea(<!;  the 
HU'iTi'.  was  not  conniienced;  niori!  than  furly 
years  elajised  hetwiien  the  threaleninif  luid  the 
stroke.  Rut,  ah!  from  that  time,  from  that 
tune,  llu'sc  things  viere  hid  from  their  eyes;  fiom 
tiial  time  their  destruction  was  determined; 
from  that  lime  their  day  of  grace  was  exjiired, 
and  tiieir  ruin  finally  fixed.  So  true  it  is,  th;it 
the  long-sullering  of  Ood  is  limited,  and  tliat 
mercy  cannot  always  be  obtained  at  the  e.v- 
peeted  jieriod,  and  precise  moment  on  which 
we  had  fi)ndly  relied. 

Rut,  my  brctiiren,  to  whom  do  I  preach? 
To  whom  do  1  this  day  prove  those  melancholy 
truths?  Of  whom  is  this  audience  com|)o.se<l? 
Who  are  those  ."  brands  ]tlucked  from  the 
burning,"  and  "  come  up  out  of  great  tribu- 
lation?" By  what  stroke  of  Providence  is 
the  mass  I  now  see  convened  from  so  many 
l>rovinces?*  Whence  arc  you?  In  what  coun- 
try were  you  born?  Ah!  my  brethren,  y<iu  are 
but  too  well  instructed  in  the  truths  I  now 
preach!  'J'he  time  of  long-sulicring  is  limited; 
need  we  jirove  it?  Can  you  be  ignorant  of  it' 
Are  you  not  witnesses  of  it  by  experience? 
Arc  not  our  proofs  sufficiently  evident?  Do 
you  ask  for  argmnenls  more  conclusive?  Come, 
sec;  let  us  go  to  the  ruins  of  our  temples:  let 
us  survey  the  rubbish  of  our  sanctuaries;  let 
us  sec  our  galley-slaves  chained  to  the  oar, 
and  our  confessors  in  irons;  let  us  see  "  the 
land  which  has  vomited  us  on  the  face  of  the 
earth;"  and  the  name  of  refugee,  venerable  shall 
I  call  it,  or  the  horrors  of  the  whole  world? 
And  to  i)resent  you  with  ol)jccts  still  more  af- 
fecting; let  us  sec  our  brethren  at  the  foot  of 
an  altar  which  they  believe  idolatrous,  mothers 
preserving  the  fortune  of  their  families  at  the 
expense  of  their  children's  souls,  whom  they 
devote  to  idolatry;  and  by  a  sad  reverse,  pre- 
serving that  same  fortune  to  their  children  at 
the  exiicnse  of  their  own  soids.j  Vielil,  yield 
to  our  calamities,  ye  cataslro|)hes  of  ages  past! 
Ye  mothers  wliose  tragic  memory  appals  pos- 
terity, because  you  were  compelled  by  tiie 
horrors  of  tiic  famine  to  eat  the  flesh  of  your 
sons,  preserving  your  own  life  by  snatching  it 
from  those  who  had  received  it  of  you!  How- 
ever blo(j(ly  your  situation  may  be,  you  de- 
]>rived  them  after  all  but  of  a  momentary  life, 
liiereby  saving  both  tiiem  and  yourselves  from 
th(!  horrors  of  famine.  Rut  here  both  are  pre- 
cipitated into  the  same  abyss.  The  niotiier, 
by  a  prodigy  unheard  of,  if  1  may  so  speak, 
nourishes  lierself  with  tlie  substance  of  her 
son's  soul,  and  the  son  in  his  turn  nourishes 
Idmself  witli  the  substance  of  his  mother's 
soul. 

Ah!  my  brethren,  these  are  our  proofs;  these 
arc  our  aigumcnts;  these  axe  the  solijtions  we 

*  France  was  then  formed  into  Iwenly-foiir  iirnvinccs, 
now  it  is  divided  into  about  ciglity-thrte  dt-partinttilii. 

t  All  idict  was  imlilishrd  by  the  king  of  Kriinct,  coin- 
maiuliii';  liis  officers  to  oonfiscale  tlie  goods  of  tliuse  wlio 
did  not  perform  tlie  acts  of  a  good  Calliolic  in  tlicirlasi 
hours. 


give  of  your  olijcrtions;  this  is  really  the  time 
in  which  "the  Lord  will  not  be  found."  For, 
since  your  calamities,  what  elforU?  have  l)ecn 
uni'A  to  terminate!  liiem,  and  to  soften  the  ven- 
geance which  iiin-sucs  yon!  How  many  humili- 
ations! How  many  fasts!  How  many  interces- 
sions! IldW  niiiiiy  tears!  1  low  many  protesta- 
tions! liiiw  iii.iiiy  disconsubile  mothers,  satis- 
fied witli  liic  ruin  of  their  faniilies,  have  asked 
no  s|><)il,  but  the  s(juls  of  their  children!  How 
ninny  J\Iiiscsi's,  how  many  Samiirls  have  stood 
luf'uri:  (!<}tl,  and  iniplon-d  tin;  liberation  of  his 
church!  I'lit  all  in  vain.  The  time  was  past, 
the  Lord  would  bo  found  no  more,  and  per- 
ha|fs,— perhaps, — no  more  forever. — Jer.  xv.  5. 

Happy  in  the  extreme  of  our  misery,  if  w« 
may  yet  hojie,  that  they  will  be  salutary  to 
those  who  have  reached  the  sliore  on  the  bro- 
ken boards  of  the  shipv.'reck?  F(jr,  my  brethren, 
wo  consent  that  you  should  turn  away  your 
eyes  from  whatever  is  glorious  in  our  exile,  to 
look  solely  at  that  which  is  deplorable.  What 
do  those  groups  of  fugitives,  and  dismemljcred 
families  say  to  you?  We  arc  sent  by  the  God 
of  vengeance.  In  banishing  us  from  our  coun- 
try, he  said,  go, — go,  unhappy  peoj)le; — go, 
and  tell  the  world  the  conse(pienccs  of  falling 
into  tiie  hands  of  an  angry  (Jod.  Teach  the 
C^iiristian  world  your  blmjdy,  but  salutary  les- 
sons; sav  to  my  children,  in  whatsoever  part 
of  the  earth  you  may  be  cast;  "  except  ye  re- 
pent, ye  shall  all  likewise  perish,"  Luke  xiii.  3. 
JJnt  you  yet  stand,  ye  walls  of  this  temple;,you 
yet  flonrisli,  O  hajipy  provinces;  though  the 
long-suflcring  of  God  lias  its  limits.  JJut  I 
cheek  myself  on  the  verge  of  this  awful  pre- 
diction. 

II.  Merely  enumerating  the  remaining  sub- 
jects, I  would  say,  that  experience,  in  the  ca.se 
of  hardened  sinners,  supplies  us  with  a  second 
exanii)le.  It  is  a  received  opinion,  and  not 
without  some  foundation,  that  the  period  allot- 
ted for  rcjientanco  extends  to  the  whole  of  life, 
and  tiiat  (Jod  has  no  design  in  sparing  us,  but 
to  promote  our  conversion.  This  is  the  sense 
of  the  Chaidee  paraphrase;  for  so  it  renders  the 
text;  "Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  you  have  life, 
call  ye  upon  him  while  you  are  spared  upon 
the  earth."  We  will  not  oppose  the  thought; 
meaiuvhile  we  confidently  aflirni,  that  we  daily 
see  among  our  hearers  sinners  whom  grace 
seems  to  have  forsaken,  and  who  appear  to  be 
lost  without  resource. 

How  often  do  we  see  people  among  us  so  ha- 
bituated to  ofiend  against  the  dictates  of  con- 
science, that  they  now  sin  without  remorse, 
and  without  rejicntanee!  K  the  things  we 
jireach  to  you  were  problematical; — if  they 
were  things  which  so  far  excilexl  doubt  and  un- 
certainty in  the  mind,  iliat  we  could  not  be  as- 
sured of  their  reality; — if  they  were  merely  al- 
lowed, or  forbidden,  we  should  not  be  surprised 
at  this  insensibility.  Rut  do  we  not  see  persons 
in  cold  blood  committing  the  most  atrocious 
crimes,  carrying  on  intiimous  intrigues,  nour- 
ishing inveterate  ])rejudices,  handing  them 
down  from  father  to  son,  and  making  them  the 
heritage  of  the  family?  Do  we  not  see  them 
committing  those  things  in  cold  blood,  and  less 
shocked  now  at  the  enormity  of  their  crimes, 
than  they  formerly  were  at  the  mere  thought 
of  them,  and  who  are  a:s  insensible  of  all  we 


268 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


say  to  affect  thorn,  aa  if  we  were  repeating  fa- 
bles, or  reciting  frivolous  talcs?  Whence  does 
this  proceed,  my  brethren?  From  the  same 
cause  we  have  endeavoured  to  prove  in  our 
preceding  discourses,  tiiat  habits,  if  not  correct- 
ed, become  confirmed:  that  tlio  Holy  Spirit 
withdraws  himself;  that  he  ceases  to  knock  at 
the  door  of  our  hearts,  and  leaves  us  to  our- 
selves when  wo  resist  his  grace.  These  are 
seared  consciences;  they  are  fascinated  minds; 
these  are  men  given  up  to  a  spirit  of  delusion, 
Rom.  i.  21;  "  Tiieir  hearts  are  waxed  gross; 
they  have  eyes,  and  tiiey  see  not,  they  have 
hearts,  and  they  do  not  understand,"  Isa.  vi. 
10.  If  the  arguments  advanced  in  tlie  preceding 
discourses,  have  been  incapable  of  producing 
conviction,  do  not,  at  least,  dis|)ute  willi  us 
what  you  sec  every  day,  and  what  passes  before 
your  eyes.  Preaciiors,  be  not  astonished  after 
this,  if  your  arginnents,  if  your  proofs,  if  your 
demonstrations,  if  your  exhortations,  if  your 
most  tender  and  pathetic  entreaties  have  so  lit- 
tle effect.  God  himself  fights  against  you. 
You  demonstrate,  and  God  blinds  their  eyes: 
you  exhort,  and  God  hardens  the  heart;  and 
that  Spirit, — that  Spirit,  who  by  his  victorious 
power  endeavours  to  illuminate  the  simple,  and 
make  them  that  fear  him  to  understand  his  se- 
cret;— that  Spirit,  by  the  power  of  vengeance, 
hardens  the  others  in  their  wilful  insensibility. 

This  awful  period  often  comes  with  greater 
rapidity  than  we  think.  When  we  speak  of 
sinners  who  are  become  incorrigible,  wc  under- 
stand not  only  the  aged,  vvho  have  run  a  course 
of  fifty  or  sixty  years  in  crimes,  and  in  whom 
sin  is  become  natural.  We  speak  also  of  those 
less  advanced  in  age;  who  have  refused  to  de- 
vote to  God  the  early  years  of  youtli;  who  have 
assumed  the  flourishing  titles  of  infidelity,  and 
atheism;  who  are  in  effect,  become  Atheists, 
and  have  imbibed  prejudices,  from  which  it  is 
noy  impossible  to  move  them.  At  first,  this 
was  simply  a  want  of  zeal;  then  it  became  in- 
difference, then  followed  coldness  and  indo- 
lence, afterward  contempt  of  religion,  and  in 
the  issue,  the  most  obstinate  and  outrageous 
profaneness.  I  select  cases  for  you  who  are  yet 
susceptible  of  good  impressions.  They  are  pro- 
videntially placed  in  open  view  to  inspire  you 
with  holy  fear;  God  h;is  exposed  them  in  hie 
church  as  buoys  and  beacons,  erected  on  the 
coast  to  warn  tiie  mariner's;  thoy  say,  keep  your 
distance  in  passing  here,  fly  this  dreadful  place, 
let  the  remains  of  tliin  shipwreck  induce  you  to 
seek  deep  waters  and  a  safer  course. 

III.  Let  this  produce  a  third  example,  and 
would  to  God  that  we  had  less  authority  for 
producing  it,  and  were  less  instructed  on  the 
suiiject!  This  is  dying  men; — an  example  which 
you  may  adduce,  to  liarden  yourselves  in  vice; 
but  which  if  properly  understood,  is  much  more 
calculated  to  excite  alarm.  We  see  in  gonenil, 
that  every  dying  man,  however  wicked  he  may 
have  been  <)uriiig  lifu,  seems  to  be  converted  on 
the  approach  of  death;  and  we  readily  persuade 
ourselves  that  it  is  so  in  eflect:  and  consequent- 
ly, that  llioro  is  no  great  diliicully  in  becoming 
regenerate  in  our  last  nionuMits.  i{ut  two  things 
have  always  prejudiced  me  against  a  late  re- 
pentance;— the  nature  of  those  sorrows,  and  es- 
pecially the  constijutticex. 

First,  The  nature  of  those  sorrows.     After 


acquiring  some  knowledge  of  the  human  heart, 
wc  fully  perceive  that  there  is  nothing  in  it  but 
what  is  extorted;  that  it  is  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment, not  the  sentiments  of  religion  and  equity; 
that  it  is  the  approach  of  death,  not  an  abhor- 
rence of  sin;  that  it  is  the  terrore  of  hell,  not 
the  effusions  of  true  zeal,  which  animate  the 
heart.  The  sailor,  while  enjoying  a  favourable 
breeze,  braves  the  Deity,  ullering  his  blasphe- 
mies against  Heaven,  and  apparently  acknow- 
ledging no  Providence  but  his  profession  and 
industry.  The  clouds  become  black;  the  sluices 
of  heaven  open;  the  lightnings  flash  in  the  air; 
the  thunder  becomes  tremendous;  the  winds 
roar;  the  surge  foams,  the  waves  of  the  ocean 
seem  to  ascend  to  heaven;  and  heaven  in  turn 
seems  to  descend  into  the  abyss.  Conscience, 
alarmed  by  these  terrific  objects,  and  more  so 
by  the  image  of  hell,  and  tlie  expectation  of 
immediate  and  inevitable  death,  endeavours  to 
conceal  herself  from  the  pursuing  vengeance  of 
God.  Blasphemy  is  changed  to  blessing,  pre- 
sumption to  prayer,  security  to  terror.  This 
wicked  man  all  at  once,  becomes  a  saint  of  the 
first  class:  and  as  though  he  would  deceive  the 
Deity,  after  having  first  deceived  himself,  he 
arrogates,  as  the  right  of  this  false  reform,  ad- 
mission into  heaven,  and  claims  the  whole  re- 
wards of  true  repentance. 

What!  conversions  of  this  kind  dazzle  Cliris- 
tians!  What!  sailors,  whose  tears  and  cries 
owe  their  origin  to  the  presence  of  immediate 
danger,  from  which  they  would  be  saved!  But 
it  is  not  in  the  agitation  produced  by  peril,  that 
we  may  know  whether  we  have  sincere  re- 
course to  God.  It  is  in  tranquil  and  recollect- 
ed moments  that  the  soul  can  best  examine  and 
investigate  its  real  condition.  It  is  not  when 
the  world  has  quitted  us,  that  we  should  begin 
like  true  Christians  to  quit  the  world;  it  is  when 
the  world  smiles,  and  invites  us  to  taste  its 
charms. 

But  what  finally  decides  on  those  hasty  reso- 
lutions are  the  consequences.  Of  all  the  saints 
that  have  been  made  in  haste,  you  find  scarcely 
one,  on  deliverance  from  danger,  who  fulfils 
the  vows  he  has  made.  There  is  scarcely  one 
who  does  not  relapse  into  vice  with  the  same 
rapidity  with  which  he  seemed  to  abandon  it; 
a  most  conclusive  argument,  that  such  conver- 
sions are  not  sincere.  Had  it  been  true  zeal, 
and  divine  love  which  dictated  all  those  profes- 
sions, and  kindled  that  fire  which  seemed  to 
burn,  you  would,  no  doubt,  have  retained  the 
effects;  but  finding  no  fruit  of  your  fervent  re- 
solutions, we  ought  to  be  convinced  that  they 
were  extorted.  Could  your  heart  thus  pass  in 
one  moment  from  one  extreme  to  the  other? 
Could  it  pass  in  one  moment  from  repentance 
to  obduracy,  and  from  obduracy  to  repentance? 
(.'ould  it  correct  in  one  moment  habits  of  vice, 
and  assume  habits  of  piety,  and  renounce  with 
equal  ease  habits  of  piety,  to  resume  habits  of 
vice?  The  case  of  tliose  whom  God  has  re- 
stored to  life,  ought  to  correct  )'our  judgment, 
concerning  those  whom  he  takes  away. 

To  all  these  proofs,  my  brethren,  which  I  am 
not  permitted  to  state  in  all  their  lustre,  I  fear 
lest  another  should  soon  bo  added; — I  fear  lest 
a  fourth  exaini)le  should  convince  the  world 
how  dangerous  it  is  to  delay  conversion.  This 
proof,  this  example,  is  no  other  than  the  major 


Ser.  LXXXI.] 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


269 


part  of  this  congregation.  On  considering  tlic 
way  of  life  wliich  most  of  you  follow,  we  fiiiii 
but  too  inucji  Cciuse  for  this  awful  coiijucturo. 
But  should  wu  see  you,  witiiout  alarm,  run 
headlong  into  tiie  abyss  from  wliioli  you  cannot 
be  delivered  by  never-ceasing  lamentations  and 
tears?  No,  my  brethren,  we  will  redouble  our 
entreaties,  wo  will  make  fresh  exertions  to  press 
on  your  minds  these  important  trutlis. 

APPLICATION. 
The  first  thing  we  require  of  you  is  to  enter 
into  your  own  heart,  to  do  justice  to  yourselves, 
to  confess  tiiat  most  of  you  are  in  tiie  awful 
situation  we  have  attacked;  that  you  are  nearly 
all  guilty  of  delaying  conversion.  I  know  tiiat 
the  Imman  heart  has  its  evasions,  and  that  con- 
science has  its  depths.  But,  after  all,  you  arc 
not  so  far  blind  as  to  believe  that,  while  carried 
away  as  some  of  you  are  with  avarice,  others 
with  ambition;  some  with  voluptuousness,  others 


zeal,  this  fervour;  these  indispensable  duties  of 
religion,  the  es.sential  characters  of  a  Christian, 
is  it  not  true  tiiat  tiiey  are  not  tiie  acquisitions 
of  a  moment,  of  an  iiour,  of  a  day?  Is  it  not 
true,  tliat,  to  attain  tiiis  happy  state,  there 
must  be  time,  labour,  and  re|iealcd  endeavours; 
conse(|uently,  that  a  transient  thought  on  a 
death-bed,  and  in  the  last  periods  of  life,  is 
quite  inadequate  to  so  great  a  work?  Is  it  not 
true,  tiiat  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  extending  his  as- 
sistance, requires  that  we  siiould  ask  his  aids, 
yield  to  his  entreaties,  and  pay  deference  to  an 
cvangehcal  ministçy?  Is  it  not  true,  that  ho 
abandons  to  themselves  those  who  resist  his 
work;  that  it  is  tlience  concluded  in  the  Scrip- 
ture that  we  need  his  grace  for  our  sanctifica- 
tion; and  tliat  we  ought  to  work  out  our  salva- 
tion with  so  niucii  the  more  diligence?  Is  it  not 
true,  that  mercy  has  restrictions  and  bounds, 
that  it  is  promised  to  those  only  who  conform 
to  the  covenant  of  grace,  that  those  conditions 


with   slander;   and  some   witli   a  haughtiness  j  are  not  a  momentary  repentance,  a  slight  re- 


which  nothing  can  bend;  living,  as  most  of  you 
do,  resident  in  a  city  where  you  find  all  the 
temptations  of  vice  in  high  life,  and  all  the  fa- 
cility in  the  haunts  of  infamy,  you  are  not  so 
far  blinded  as  to  think  that  you  are  in  a  state 
of  regeneration,  while  persisting  in  this  course. 
And,  as  I  supposed  before,  that  no  one  of  you 
is  so  far  infatuated  as  to  say,  I  have  made  my 
choice,  I  am  resolved  to  cast  myself  headlong 


course  to  mercy,  a  superficial  desire  to  partici- 
pate in  the  merits  of  Christ's  death;  they  imply 
such  a  total  change,  renovation  of  heart,  and 
transformation  of  the  soul,  and  in  such  sort, 
that  when  one  is  not  in  a  state  to  conform  to 
the  conditions,  we  are  no  longer  within  the 
sphere  of  evangelical  promises.  Is  it  not  true, 
in  short,  that  those  truths  are  not  founded 
merely  on  arguments,   on  a  chain  of  conse- 


into  the  pit  of  destruction,  and  to  be  a  victim  |  {|uences,  and  remote  principles?     But  they  are 


of  eternal  vengeance;  as  no  one  of  you  has  car- 
ried infatuation  to  this  extreme,  I  am  right  in 
concluding,  that  nearly  all  of  you  rely  on  a  fu- 
ture conversion.  Begin  here,  begin  by  doing 
justice  to  yourselves  on  tiiis  point.  This  is  tlie 
first  thing  we  reiiuire  you  to  do. 

The  second  is,  to  recollect  the  arguments  we 
have  urged  in  our  preceding  discourses,  against 
the  delay  of  conversion,  and  confess  their  force. 
In  the  first,  we  addressed  you  as  well-informed 
and  rational  beings;  we  proved  from  the  human 
constitution,  that  conversion  becomes  either 
dilficuit  or  impracticable  in  proportion  as  it  is 
deferred.  In  the  second,  we  addressed  you  as 
Christians,  who  acknowledge  a  revelation  re- 
ceived from  heaven;  and  we  endeavoured  to 
prove  these  truths  by  that  revelation; — by  the 
character  of  the  economy  of  the  Holy  Sjjirit; — 
by  the  nature  and  conditions  of  tlie  new  cove- 
nant;— capital  points  of  faith,  fundamental  ar- 
ticles of  religion,  which  you  cannot  evade,  if 
you  have  the  smallest  sliadow  of  Christianity. 
To-day  we  have  directed  all  our  efforts  to  ena- 
ble you  to  comprehend  the  same  things  by  clear, 
certain,  and  indisputable  exiierience.  Over- 
looking, therefore,  every  thing  which  concerns 
us  in  particular,  and  our  weakness,  which  we 
acknowledge  and  feel,  do  justice  to  our  proofs; 
acknowledge  their  force;  and  inquire,  whether 
you  have  yet  any  thing  further  to  object. 
Seek,  examine,  investigate.  Is  it  not  true, 
that  bad  habits  become  confirmed  witii  age? 
Predominate  in  the  heart?  Take  possession  of 
all  the  intellectual  powers,  and  transform  them- 
selves, so  to  speak,  into  our  nature'  Is  it  not 
true,  that  habits  of  piety  are  not  acquired  in- 
stantaneously, in  a  moment,  by  a  sudden  wish, 
and  a  simple  emotion  of  the  soul?  Is  it  not 
true,  that  this  detachment  from  sensible  objects, 
this  giving  up  the  world,  this  self-denial,  this 


demonstrated  by  sound  and  incontestable  ex- 
perience. Hence  we  ask  you  once  more  to  ad- 
mit the  force  of  our  arguments,  and  to  do  jus- 
tice to  the  evidence  we  have  adduced. 

Thirdly,  what  we  also  require  is,  that  you 
should  acknowledge  the  ineificacy  of  sermons 
with  regard  to  you,  the  little  eftect  they  com- 
monly have,  and  consequently  the  little  influ- 
ence  which   ours   (and   especially  those   last 
delivered)   have   produced  on  your   conduct. 
There   is   not   a  week,  but  some  vice   is  at- 
tacked;— not  a  week,  but  some   one  ought  to 
be  corrected; — not  a  week,  but  some  evident 
change  ought  to  be  produced  in  civil  and  reli- 
gious society.     And  what  do  we  see?     I  ap- 
peal to  your  consciences;   you   regard   us  as 
declaimers,  called  to  entertain  you  for  an  hour, 
to  diversify  your  pleasure,  or  to  pass  away  the 
first  day  of  tiio  week;  diverting  your  attention 
from  secular  concerns.     It  seems  that  we  as- 
cend our  pulpits  to  atford  you  amusement,  to 
delineate  characters,  implicitly  submitting  to 
your  judgment,  academic  compositions;  to  say, 
"  Come,  come  and  see  whether  we  have  a  fer- 
tile imagination,  a  fine  voice,  a  graceful  ges- 
ture, an  action  agreeable  to  your  taste."  With 
these  detestable  notions,  most  of  you  establish 
your  tribunal,  judging  of  the  object  of  our  ser- 
mons: which  you  sometimes  find  too  long,  some- 
times too  short,  sometimes  too  cold,  and  some- 
times too  pathetic.     Scarcely  one  among  )'ou 
turns  them  to  tlieirtrue  design,  purity  of  heart, 
and  amendment  of  life.    This  is  the  success  of 
the  sermons  you  have  heard.  Should  we  think 
our  discourses  more  happy?    We  should  be  too 
credulous  did  we  expect  it.     It  must  be  ac- 
knowledged, my  brethren,  that  all  we  have 
said  on  the  delay  of  conversion,  has  been  of 
little  avail  with  regard  to  most  of  you.     Phi- 
losophy, religion,  experience, — all  leave  you 


270 


ON  THE  DELAY  OF  CONVERSION. 


[Ser.  LXXXI. 


much  the  same  as  you  were  before.     This  is 
the  third  tliiiiir  you  ought  to  confess. 

When  }ou  liave  iiiatlc  tlicsc  reHections,  we 
will  ask,  what  are  your  tiioiiijiiLs?  What 
part  will  you  take?  What  will  you  do?  Wiiat 
will  become  of  all  the  (icrsons  who  compose 
this  congregation?  You  know,  on  llic  one  hand, 
that  you  arc  among  the  ncgleclers  of  salvation; 
you  sec,  on  the  other,  by  cvidenfos  deduced 
from  reason.  Scripture,  and  experience,  that 
those  who  thus  delay,  run  the  risk  of  never  be- 
ing converted.  You  are  obliged  to  allow,  that 
tiie  most  pathetic  exhortations  are  addressed, 
in  general  witiiout  effect;  and,  meanwhile, 
time  is  urgent,  life  vanishes  away;  and  the  mo- 
ment in  which  you  yourselves  must  furnish  a 
test  of  tlicsc  sad  truths,  is  just  at  hand.  Do  all 
these  things  make  any  impression  on  your 
minds?  Do  they  give  any  stroke  at  the  unhap- 
py security  in  whicli  you  live?  Do  they  trou- 
ble the  false  repose  in  which  you  rest?  Have 
they  any  intluence  on  your  lives? 

I  know  the  part  you  are  going  to  take;  that, 
unable  to  think  of  them  without  horror,  you 
are  going  to  banish  them  from  your  mind,  and 
olface  them  from  your  memory.  You  are  go- 
ing, on  leaving  this  place,  to  fortify  yourselves 
against  this  holy  alarm,  which  has  now,  per- 
haps, been  excited;  you  are  going  to  talk  of 
any  subject  but  those  important  truths  which 
liave  been  preached,  and  to  repose  in  indo- 
lence; to  cause  fear  and  trembling  to  subside, 
by  banishing  every  idea  which  have  excited 
them;  like  a  man  in  a  fatal  sleep,  while  his 
house  is  on  fire;  we  alarm  him,  we  cry,  "  House 
from  your  stupor,  your  house  is  on  fire."  He 
opens  his  eyes,  he  wishes  to  fly  for  safety;  but 
falling  again  into  his  former  lethargy,  he  be- 
comes fuel  to  the  flames. 

My  brethren,  my  very  dear  brethren,  think, 
O  think  that  the  situation  of  your  minds  does 
not  alter  these  grand  truths.  You  may  forget 
them,  but  you  cannot  change,  them.  VS'hethcr 
you  may  think  of  them  or  not,  they  still  sub- 
sist in  all  their  force.  You  may  indeed  shut 
your  eyes  against  the  abyss  which  is  under 
your  feet;  but  you  cannot  remove  it,  you  can- 
not avoid  it,  so  long  as  you  disregard  our  warn- 
ings, and  resist  our  entreaties. 

If  your  salvation  is  dear  to  you,  if  you  have 
yet  the  least  sensibility,  the  smallest  spark  of 
love  to  God — if  you  have  not  resolved  on  your 
own  ruin,  and  sworn  to  your  own  destruction, 
flnter  into  your  hearts  from  this  moment.  Let 
each,  from  this  moment,  take  salutary  mea- 
sures to  subdue  his  predominant  propensity. 
Withdraw  not  from  this  temple,  without  be- 
ing firmly  resolved  on  a  change  of  life. 

(xmsi(l<;r  that  you  were  not  sent  into  the 
world,  to  aggrandize  and  enrich  yourselves;  to 
form  attachments  which  serve  as  unhappy  ties 
to  bold  y(ju  on  the  earth;  mucii  loss  to  scanda- 
lize the  church,  to  be  high-spirited,  proud,  im- 
I)eriou8,  unjust,  voluptuous,  avaricious.  (îod 
ms  plac<;d  you  here  in  a  state  of  probation, 
that  you  might  hecomo  prepared  for  a  better 
world.  Consider,  that,  though  the  distractions 
of  life  may  frcf|ueiitly  call  a  considerate  man 
to  bo  engaged  in  Iho  world,  in  defiance  of  his 
wishes;  yet  there  is  nothing  so  unworthy  as  to 
bfi,  like  most  of  you,  always  dissipated,  always 
ilevuted  to  pleasure.     (Consider,  that   though 


this  vacuity  of  life  might  bo  excused  in  a  youth 

following  the  impulse  of  nature,  before  he  has 
had  time  to  reflect,  yet  games,  diversions  and 
theatres,  do  but  ill  accord  with  gray  hairs;  and 
that,  at  least,  he  should  devote  the  remains  of 
life,  to  the  service  of  (Jod,  and  the  advance- 
ment of  his  own  salvation. 

K.xomine  yourselves  on  these  heads;  let  each 
make  them  the  touchstone  of  his  conduct;  let 
him  derive  from  them  motives  of  reformation; 
let  the  time  past  suHice  to  have  gratified  his 
concupiscence;  let  him  tremble  on  considering 
the  wounds  he  has  given  his  soul,  and  the  dan- 
gers he  has  run,  in  delaying  to  the  present 
hour. 

Is  it  forty,  fifty,  or  sixty  years  since  I  came 
into  the  world?  What  have  I  been  doing? 
What  account  can  I  give  of  a  period  so  pre- 
cious? Wliat  virtues  have  I  acquired?  What 
wicked  propensities  have  I  suMuod?  What 
progress  have  I  made  in  charity,  in  humility, 
and  in  all  the  virtues  for  which  God  has  given 
me  birtk'  Have  not  a  thousand  various  pas- 
sions divided  the  empire  of  my  heart''  Have 
they  not  all  tended  to  enslave  me?  O  misera- 
ble man!  perhaps  my  day  of  grace  is  past:  per- 
haps in  future  I  may  knock  in  vain  at  the  door 
of  mercy:  perhaps  I  may  be  numbered  with 
those  of  whom  Christ  says,  "  Many  shall  seek 
to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able:"  perhaps  tlio 
insensibility  I  feel,  and  the  resistance  which 
my  unhappy  heart  still  makes,  are  the  effects 
of  divine  vengeance:  perhaps  my  time  of  visi- 
tation is  past:  perhaps  God  spares  me  only  in 
life  to  make  me  a  fearful  example  of  the  mis- 
ery of  those  who  delay  conversion:  perhaps  it 
is  to  me  he  addresses  that  sentence,  "  Let  him 
that  is  unjust  be  unjust  still,  and  let  him  that 
is  unholy  be  unholy  still."  But,  perhaps  I 
have  yet  a  little  time:  perhaps  God  has  spar- 
ed me  in  life  to  afford  mc  occasion  to  repair 
my  past  faults:  perhaps  he  has  brought  me  to- 
day into  this  church  to  ])luck  and  save  mo 
from  my  misery:  jierhafis  these  emotionsofmy 
heart,  these  tears  which  run  down  mine  eyes, 
are  the  efiects  of  grace:  perhaps  these  soften- 
ings, this  compunction,  and  these  fears,  are 
the  voice  which  says,  from  God,  "  Seek  ye  my 
face:"  perhaps  this  is  the  year  of  good-will; 
the  accopt(!d  time;  the  day  of  salvation:  per- 
haps, if  1  delay  no  longer,  if  I  promote  my 
salvation  without  delay,  I  may  succeed  in 
the  work,  and  see  my  endeavours  gloriously 
crowned. 

O  love  of  my  Saviour,  bowels  of  mercy, 
abyss  of  divine  compassion!  "  C)  length,  breadth, 
heiglit,  depth,  of  the  love  of  God,  which  pas»- 
eth  knowledge!"  resolve  this  weighty  inquiry; 
caltn  the  agitation  of  my  mind;  assure  my  flut- 
tering soul.  Yes,  ()  my  (Jod,  seeing  thou  hast 
spared  me  in  life,  I  trust  it  is  for  salvation. 
Seeing  thou  seekest  me  still,  I  flatter  mys«!lf 
it  is  for  my  conversion.  Hence  1  assume  now 
engagements,  1  ratify  anew  the  covenant  I 
have  so  of^en  violatc<l;  I  pledge  to  thee  anew 
the  vows  I  have  so  of\cn  broken. 

If  you  act  in  this  manner,  your  labour  shall 
not  lie  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  For  what  is  it 
that  Ciod  rc(piircs  of  ymi?  ^Vhy  has  he  created 
you  out  of  nothing'  \Vhy  has  he  given  you  his 
Son?  Why  has  ho  counnunicated  to  you  his 
Holy  Spirit'     la  it  to  destroy  you?    ïs  it  to 


Seb.  LXXXII.] 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


271 


damn  yoa'  Aro  you  so  little  acquainted  with 
the  Father  of  mercies,  with  tlio  God  of  love? 
Does  he  take  ])lcasiire  in  the  death  of  the  sin- 
ner? Would  ho  not  rather  that  he  should  re- 
pent and  live? 

These  are  the  consolations  which  follow  the 
exhortations  of  the  prophet,  and  tlio  words  of 
my  text.  For  after  liaving  said.  "  Seek  ye  tlio 
Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye  u]ion  him 
while  he  is  near;"  he  draws  this  conclusion,  to 
which  I  would  lead  yon,  wiiich  has  heen  tlic 
design  of  tiicse  three  discourses,  and  by  which 
I  would  close  the  subject.  "  Let  the  wicked 
forsake  his  way,  and  tlio  unrigiiteous  man  his 
thoughts;  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord, 
and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him;  and  to  our 
God,  for  he  will  abundantly  ])ardon."  And, 
lest  the  penitent  sinner  should  be  overburdened 
with  the  weight  of  his  sins, — lost,  estimating 
the  extent  of  divino  mercy  by  his  own  con- 
tracted views,  he  should  despair  of  salvation, 
I  will  add  this  declaration  from  God  himself, 
a  declaration  which  admirably  expresses  the 
grandeur  of  his  compassion:  "  My  thoughts 
are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways 
my  ways;  for,  as  the  heavens  arc  higher  than 
the  earth,  so  arc  my  thoughts  above  your 
thoughts."  Now  to  God  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Spirit,  bo  honour  and  glory  for  ever. — 
Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXII. 

ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


Hebrews  xii.  1. 
Wherefore,  seeing  we  are  also  compassed  abmU  icilli 
so  great  a  cloud  of  wilnessfs,  let  us  lay  aside 
euery  weight,  and  Uie  sin  tvhich  doth  so  easily 
beset  its;  and  let  us  run  loitli  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us. 

My  brethren,  the  Holy  Spirit  proposes  to  us 
in  the  words  we  have  read,  distinguished  duties, 
excellent  models,  and  wise  precautions.  "  Let 
us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before 
us."  These  are  the  distinguished  duties.  "Wc 
are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of 
witnesses."  These  arc  the  excellent  models. 
"  Let  us  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin 
which  doth  so  easily  beset  us."  These  are  the 
wise  precautions. 

I  frankly  acknowledge,  my  brethren,  that  on 
comparing  tlie  design  of  my  text  with  the  cha- 
racter of  some  among  my  hearers,  I  am  in  doubt 
whether  I  ought  not  to  suspend  the  thread  of 
my  discourse;  and  wheliier  the  difficulty  of  suc- 
cess should  not  deter  me  from  attempting  the 
execution.  We  come  to  preach  perseverance 
to  men,  of  whom  so  great  a  number  live  in  su- 
j)ineness,  and  to  whom  it  is  nmcli  more  proper 
to  say,  Return  nnlo  the  testimonies  of  the  lAird, 
than  Continue  tofdlow  tlicin.  We  come  to  pro- 
pose the  most  excellent  models,  tlie  example  of 
the  Abrahams,  the  Moseses,  tiie  Davids,  of 
whom  so  great  a  number  hitherto  propose  to 
tliemselvcs,  if  I  may  so  e.\])rcss  myself,  only 
negative  models;  1  woiild  say,  who  make  it  all 
their  glory  in  nut  being  altogcthor  so  bad  as  llie 
worst  of  the  human  kind;  tliey  consider  tlieni- 


selvcs  in  some  sort  as  saints,  when  they  can  al- 
lege some  one  who  surpasses  them  in  wicked- 
ness. In  short,  we  are  going  to  prescribe  the 
best  precautions  to  people,  who  expose  botii 
tiieir  tlanksto  tiic  enemy  of  tiieir  salvation;  and 
wiio  in  tlie  midst  (jf  beings,  leagued  for  our 
everlasting  ruin,  live  in  the  same  security  as  if 
the  profoimdest  peace  i)revailed,  and  as  if  they 
were  walking  in  the  only  way  which  leads  to 
eternal  felicity. 

Again,  if  it  were  only  with  regard  to  people 
of  this  character,  for  whom  we  have  so  just  a 
cause  to  fear  miscarrying,  wo  ought  to  enrol 
ourselves  in  the  little  number,  that  associating 
ourselves  among  the  disciples  of  wisdom,  ac- 
cording to  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  wo 
might  hope  to  say  to  God  as  he  did,  "  Behold 
mc,  an<l  the  children  which  God  hath  given 
me,"  Heb.  ii.  13;  Isa.  viii.  IS.  But  when  1  con- 
sider the  limits  in  which  the  greatest  saints 
among  us  include  their  virtues,  the  scajity 
bounds  which  comprise  their  duties,  I  am  afraid 
they  will  revolt  against  the  doctrine  of  my  text. 
And  you,  who  carry  piety  to  the  highest  degree, 
are  you  fully  prepared  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  the  exhortation  which  St.  Paul  addres-scs  you 
to-day?  You,  who  on  the  pressing  entreaties 
of  Eternal  Wisdom,  which  says,  "give  me  thy 
heart,"  feel  hard  contlicts  with  yourselves  not 
to  bestow  on  an  only  son  sentiments  which  you 
owe  solely  to  the  giver,  you  have  not  yet  car- 
ried divine  love  to  the  most  eminent  degree:  it 
is  not  enough  that  you  inspire  your  son  with 
the  fear  and  love  of  God,  you  must  acquire  the 
disposition  of  the  father  of  the  faithful,  who 
obeyed  this  command;  "  Take  now  thy  son, 
thine  only  son  Isaac,  wliom  thou  lovest,  and 
offer  him  for  a  burnt-offering,"  Gen.  xxii.  2. 
You  who,  rather  than  abjure  the  truth,  have 
sacrificed  one  part  of  your  fortune,  you  have 
not  carried  divine  love  to  the  highest  degree; 
you  must  acquire  the  disposition  of  those  extra- 
ordinary men,  some  of  whom  were  stoned  for 
religion,  others  were  sawn  asunder,  others  were 
killed  with  the  sword,  others  wandered  about  in 
sheepskins,  and  in  goat-skins,  others  were  af- 
flicted and  tormented.  These  are  the  grand 
models,  on  which  St.  Paul  wished  to  form  the 
piety  of  the  Hebrews,  when  he  addressed  tliera 
in  the  words  of  my  text:  it  is  on  the  same  mo- 
dels we  would  wish  to-day  to  form  your  piety. 
"  Wherefore,  seeing  we  also  aro  compassed 
about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  lot  us 
lay  aside  every  weight,  and  tiie  sin  which  doth 
so  easily  beset  us:  and  let  us  run  with  patience 
the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 

These  words  may  be  considered  in  two  dif^ 
feront  points  of  view;  the  one  respects  the  He- 
brews, to  whom  they  were  addressed,  the  other 
respects  the  whole  Christian  community. 

I.  They  have  peculiar  references  to  the  He- 
brews, to  whom  they  were  addressed.  These 
Hebrews  had  embraced  the  Christian  religion, 
at  a  time  of  general  exclamation  against  the 
Christians.  They  were  very  sincere  in  the  pro- 
fession of  Christianity;  but  there  is  a  difference 
between  sincerity,  and  the  constancy  to  which 
the  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ  are  called,  particu- 
larly when  the  church  seems  abandoned  to  the 
fury  ol'  its  |>ersecutors.  The  grand  design  of 
the  apo.>;lle  in  this  epistle,  was  to  inspire  them 
with  this  constancy,  and  to  prevent  tlic  fear  of 


272 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


[Ser.  Lxxxn. 


punishments  from  causing  thcin  to  fall  into 
apootacy. 

This  design  is  apparent,  from  the  illustrious 
character  he  gives  of  the  l^ord  C'iirist,  to  whom 
they  liad  devoted  themselves  by  embracing  the 
Cliriistian  religion.  He  is  tiot  a  mere  man,  not 
an  ordinary  pmplict,  not  an  anffel;  i)ut  the  Lord 
of  men,  and  of  an<;^e!s.  "  For  CJod,"  says  the 
apostle  at  the  commencement  of  tiiis  epistle, 
"  who  spake  in  time  past  unto  tlic  fathers  by 
the  prophets,  hath  in  tlieso  last  days  spoken 
unto  us  by  iiis  Son,  whom  he  hatii  a])pointed 
heir  of  all  things,  by  whom  also  ho  made  the 
worlds.  Wlio  being  the  brightness  of  his  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person,  and  uji- 
holding  all  tilings  by  the  word  of  his  power, 
when  he  had  by  himself  purged  our  sins,  sat 
down  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high; 
being  made  so  much  better  than  tiio  angels,  as 
he  hath  by  inheritance  obtainttd  a  more  excel- 
knt  name  than  they.  For  unto  which  of  the 
angels,  said  he,  at  any  time.  Thou  art  my  Son, 
this  day  have  1  begotten  thee.'"  Heb.  i.  1 — 5. 

This  design  is  fartiier  apj>arent,  as  the  apos- 
tle apprizes  the  Hebrews  concerning  the  diffi- 
culty, and  even  the  impossibility  of  obtaining 
mercy  after  an  abjuration  accompanied  with 
certain  aggravating  circumstances,  which  time 
does  not  permit  me  here  to  enumerate.  The 
sense  is  asserted  in  these  words:  "  It  is  impos- 
sible for  those,  who  were  once  enlightened,  and 
have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were  made 
partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have  tasted 
of  the  good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come,  if  they  fiill  away  to  renew  tiiem 
again  unto  repentance,"  Heb.  vi.  4 — 6.  To 
"fall  away,"  here  signifies,  not  the  repetition 
of  a  criminal  habit  we  had  lio])ed  to  reform, 
(and  who  could  expect  salvation  if  this  were  tiie 
meaning  of  tlie  apostle?)  but  professing  again 
the  errors  we  had  renounced  on  becoming  Chris- 
tians, and  abjuring  Christianity  itself. 

This  design  appears  likewise,  from  the  care 
the  apostle  takes  to  exalt  the  Christian  econo- 
my above  that  of  Moses:  hence  he  infers,  that 
if  the  smallest  ofFenccs,  committed  against  tlie 
Levitical  economy,  were  punisiied  witii  rigour, 
there  cannot  be  punishments  too  severe  for 
those  who  shall  have  the  baseness  to  abjure 
Christianity.  "  If  we  sin  wilfully  after  that  we 
have  received  the  knowledgeof  the  truth,  there 
remaincth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins,  but  a  cer- 
tain fearful  looking  iijr  of  judgment,  and  fiery 
indignation  which  shall  devour  tiiu  adversa- 
ries," Heb.  X.  26,  ill.  The  sin  into  which  we 
wilfully  fall,  does  not  mean  those  relap.scs,  of 
which  we  sjiake  just  now,  as  the  ancient  fathers 
believed:  whose  severity  Wiis  much  mure  calcu- 
lated to  precipiUitc  ai)ostates  into  tiie  abyss 
from  which  they  wished  to  save  them,  than  to 
jircserve  them  from  it.  iJiit  to  sin  willully,  in 
this  place  signifies  aiioslacy;  tiiis  is  the?  sense  of 
the  words  which  immediately  I'dIIow  the  pas- 
sago.  "He  that  desjiiscd  Moses'  law,  died 
without  mer('y,  under  two  or  three  witnesses; 
of  how  nmch  sorer  pimisluncnt,  suppose  ye, 
shall  he  be  thouglit  worthy,  who  hath  trodden 
under  foot  the  Son  of  (ioii,  and  counted  the 
blood  of  the  covenant,  whi-rcwilh  he  was  sanc- 
tified, an  unholy  thing,  and  hath  done  despite 
unto  the  Spirit  of  grace?"  Heb.  x.  'J8, 'J9.  The 
whole  is  dcscrii)tivc  of  apostacy.     The  Jews, 


having  prevailed  with  any  of  their  nation,  who 
had  embraced  Christianity  to  return  to  Judaism, 
were  not  satisfied  with  their  abusing  it;  they 
required  them  to  utter  blasjjheinies  against  the 
person  of  Jesus,  and  against  his  mysteries,  as 
ap|)par8  from  the  ancient  forms  of  abjuration 
which  the  learned  have  preserved. 

All  these  considerations,  and  many  more,  of 
which  the  subject  is  susceptible,  demonstrate, 
that  the  grand  design  of  St.  Paul,  in  his  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  was  to  prevent  apostacy,  and 
to  prompt  them  to  confess  the  truth  amidst  the 
most  cruel  torments  to  which  they  might  bo 
exposed  by  the  profession.  This  is  the  design 
of  my  text.  "Let  us  run  with  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us;  that  is,  let  neither  perse- 
cutions the  most  severe,  nor  promises  the  most 
specious,  be  able  to  induce  you  to  deny  Chris- 
tianity, nor  any  consideration  deter  you  from 
professing  it. 

On  this  first  design  of  the  apostle,  we  shall 
merely  conjure  those,  with  whom  there  may 
remain  some  doubt  as  to  the  horrors  of  apos- 
tacy, and  tho  necessity  imposed  on  all  Chris- 
tians either  to  leave  the  places  which  prohibit 
the  i)rofession  of  the  truth,  or  endure  the  se- 
verest tortures  for  religion;  we  shall  conjure 
them  seriously  to  reflect  on  what  we  advance; 
not  to  content  themselves  with  general  notions; 
to  compare  the  situation  of  those  Hebrews  with 
that  in  which  some  of  the  reformed  Christians 
arc  {)hiced;  to  compare  the  abjurations  required 
of  the  first,  with  those  required  of  the  latter;  the 
I)unishments  inflicted  on  the  one,  with  those 
inflicted  on  the  other;  and  tiie  directions  St. 
Paul  gave  the  faithful  of  his  own  time,  with 
those  which  are  given  to  us.  If,  after  sober  and 
serious  investigation,  we  still  find  casuists  who 
doubt  the  doctrine,  by  aflirming,  that  those  of 
our  brethren,  who  still  remain  in  France,  ought 
to  make  their  choice,  between  flight  and  mar- 
tyrdom, we  will  add  no  more;  feeling  ourselves 
unable  to  persuade  men,  with  whom  arguments 
so  strong  are  incapable  of  conviction. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  think,  that  wc  insist  too 
often  on  liie  same  subjects.  But  we  frankly 
avow,  that,  so  very  far  from  thinking  we  preach 
too  often,  it  seems  to  us  we  by  no  means  re- 
sume them  sufficiently.  We  are  also  fully  re- 
solved to  insist  upon  them  more  powerfully  than 
we  have  overdone  before.  Yes!  while  we  shall 
see  the  incendiaries  of  the  Christian  world,  men, 
who  under  the  name  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus  elierish  the  most  ambitious  and  barbarous 
sentiments,  holding  the  reins  of  government  in 
so  large  a  sjiace  of  Europe,  making  drunk,  if  1 
may  use  an  expression  in  tho  Ilevelation,  and 
an  ex])rcssion  by  no  means  hvpcrbolical,  "ma- 
king drunk  the  kings  of  the  earth  with  the  wine 
of  their  fornication:"  while  we  shall  set;  edicta 
issued  anew,  which  have  so  often  made  to  blush 
every  one  who  has  a  vestige  of  j)robitv  in  the 
conummity  from  which  they  proceed;  while  wo 
shall  see  fresii  faggoLs  kindled,  new  gibbets 
erected,  additional  galleys  e(iuii)ped  against  the 
Protestants;  while  we  see  our  imha|)py  brethren 
invariably  negligent  to  the  iiresent  period  in 
which  they  promised  to  irivc  glory  to  God,  al- 
leging, as  an  excu.se,  the  .severity  of  the  jiersc- 
cution,  and  tin;  fiiry  of  tlie  persecutors;  that 
when  peace  shall  be  rcslored  to  tho  churches, 
they  will  return  to  devotion;  while  wc  see  a 


StR.  LXXXII.] 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


273 


million  of  men  bearing  the  Christian  name, 
contenting  theniKelves  to  live  without  tempiu, 
without  public  worship,  without  Bacranieiits, 
without  hope  of  having  on  their  doalii-heds  the 
aids  of  ministers  of  the  living  God  to  comfort 
them  against  that  terrific  period;  while  we  shall 
see  fathers  and  mothers,  so  very  far  from  send- 
ing into  the  land  of  liberty  the  children,  whom 
they  have  had  the  weakness  to  retain  in  the 
climates  of  oppression,  have  even  the  laxity, 
ehall  I  say,  or  the  insanity  to  recall  those  who 
have  had  courage  to  fly;  while  wo  shall  see  ex- 
iles looking  back  with  regret  to  the  onions  of 
Egypt,  envying  the  condition  of  those  who 
have  sacrificed  the  dictates  of  conscience  to 
fortune:  while  we  shall  see  those  lamentable 
objects,  we  will  still  enforce  the  doctrine  of  St. 
Paul  in  the  epistle  whence  wo  have  selected 
the  text.  We  will  still  enforce  the  expressions 
of  the  apostle,  and  in  the  sense  already  given. 
"  Take  heed,  lest  there  be  in  any  of  you  an 
evil  heart  of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the 
living  God. — It  is  impossible  for  those  who 
were  once  enlightened,  and  have  tasted  of  the 
heavenly  gift,  and  were  made  partakers  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  have  tasted  of  the  good  word 
of  God,  and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come, 
if  they  fall  away,  to  renew  them  again  to  re- 
pentance, seeing  they  crucify  to  themselves 
afresh  the  Son  of  God,  and  put  him  to  an  open 
shame.  Let  us  hold  fast  the  profession  of  our 
faith  without  wavering;  for  if  we  sin  wilfully 
after  that  we  have  received  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth,  there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice 
for  sins,  but  a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of 
judgment,  and  fiery  indignation  which  shall 
devour  the  adversaries.  He  that  despised 
Moses'  law  died  without  mercy  under  two  or 
thr«e  witnesses^  of  how  much  sorer  punish- 
ment, suppose  ye,  shall  he  be  thought  worthy, 
who  hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son  of  God, 
and  hath  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant, 
wherewith  he  was  sanctified,  an  unholy  thing, 
and  hath  done  despite  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace." 
And  in  our  text,  "  Seeing  we  also."  To  what 
do  these  words  refer?  To  what  the  apostle 
had  said  a  little  before  respecting  the  faithful, 
who,  for  the  sake  of  religion,  "  had  been  stoned, 
had  been  sawn  asunder,  had  been  killed  with 
the  sword:"  after  enumerating  these,  he  adds, 
"  Seeing  we  also  are  compassed  about  with  so 
great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  run  with  pa- 
tience the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 

2.  Enough  having  been  eaid  concerning  the 
first  sense  of  the  text  which  regards  but  few 
Christians,  we  shall  proceed  to  the  second; 
which  concerns  the  whole  body  of  Christians, 
who  are  still  in  a  world  which  endeavours  to 
detach  them  from  the  communion  of  Jesus 
Christ.  St.  Paul  exhorts  them  to  "  run  with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  them;"  that 
is,  to  pereevere  in  fellowship  with  him.  Per- 
severance is  a  Christian  virtue.  On  this  virtue 
shall  turn  the  whole  of  our  discourse,  which 
shall  be  comprised  under  four  classes  of  obser- 
vations. 

I.  We  shall  remove  what  is  equivocal  in  the 
term  perxvtraiice,  or  ntnjii/ig-  the  race. 

II.  We  shall  enforce  the  necessity  of  perse- 
verance. 

III.  We  shall  remove  certain  systematical 
notions  which  excite  confusion  in  this  virtue. 

Vol.  II.~35 


IV.  We  shall  point  to  the  different  classes 
of  persons  who  compose  this  congregation,  the 
various  conse»|uences  they  should  draw  from 
this  doctrine,  and  the  sentiments  with  which  it 
should  actuate  their  minds. 

1.  We  shall  remove  what  is  equivocal  in 
the  term  [lersevcrance,  and  in  the  expression, 
"  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set 
before  us."  We  may  take  the  term  in  a  double 
sense;  or,  to  express  myself  more  clearly,  there 
are  two  w.ays  in  which  we  may  consider  the 
couise  Jesus  Christ  prescribed  to  his  disciples. 
We  will  call  the  first,  losing  the  habit  of  Chris- 
tianity;  and  the  second,  doing  actions  incom- 
patible with  its  design.  Hy  the  habit  of  Chris- 
tianity, we  mean  that  disp()sition  of  a  believer, 
in  consequence  of  which,  notwithstanding  the 
weakness  he  may  feel  in  virtue; — the  defects 
with  which  he  may  have  cause  to  reproach 
himself; — and  the  daily  warfare  between  the 
tlesh  and  the  Spirit,  or  even  some  victories 
which  the  flesh  may  obtain  over  the  mind; — 
all  things  considered,  he  gives  God  the  prefer- 
ence to  the  world  and  the  flesh;  and  has  a 
consciousness  in  his  own  breast,  that  divine 
love  prevails  in  his  heart  over  every  other 
love. — We  may  also  turn  aside  from  the  course 
prescribed  by  Jesus  Christ  to  his  disciples,  by 
doing  things  incompatible  with  the  design  of 
Christianity.  It  would  discover  a  defective 
knowledge  of  man  to  conclude,  that  ho  has  lost 
a  habit  the  moment  he  does  any  action  con- 
trary to  it.  One  act  of  dissipation  no  more 
constitutes  a  habit  of  dissipation,  than  a  single 
duty  of  piety  constitutes  the  habit  of  piety; 
and  we  have  no  more  reason  for  inferring,  that, 
because  a  man  has  discovered  one  instance  of 
attachment  to  the  world,  he  is  really  earthly- 
minded,  than  we  have  to  say,  that,  because  a 
man  has  discharged  a  single  duty  of  piety,  he 
is  really  a  pious  man.  In  what  sense  then, 
does  the  Holy  Spirit  exhort  us  to  persevere? 
Is  he  wishful  to  preserve  us  from  doing  any 
thing  incompatible  with  the  design  of  Chris- 
tianity? Is  he  wishful  to  preserve  us  from 
losing  the  habit' 

Doubtless,  my  brethren,  his  design  is  to  pre- 
serve us  from  doing  any  thing  contrary  to  the 
object  of  Christianity;  because  it  is  by  a  repeti- 
tion of  this  sort  of  actions  tlial  we  lose  what 
is  called  the  habit  of  Christianity.  That  dis- 
position of  mind,  however,  which  induces  a 
Christian  to  fortify  himself  against  every  temp- 
tation, is  a  mean  rather  to  obtain  the  virtue 
which  our  Scriptures  called  perseverance,  than 
perseverance  itself  When  we  say,  according 
to  inspired  men,  that,  in  order  to  be  saved,  we 
must  endure  to  the  end,  we  do  not  mean,  that 
we  should  never  in  the  course  of  life  have 
committed  a  single  fault;  but  that,  notwith- 
standing any  fault  we  have  committed,  we 
must  be  in  the  state  just  mentioned;  that,  all 
things  being  considered,  we  give  God  the  pre- 
ference over  sensible  objects,  and  feel  divine 
love  in  our  hearts  predominant  over  every 
other  love.  Where  indeed  should  we  be,  if 
we  could  not  be  saved  without  undeviating 
perseverance,  without. running  with  patience 
the  race  in  the  rigorous  sense,  I  would  say,  so 
as  never  to  commit  an  action  incompatible 
with  the  design  of  Christianity?  Where  should 
we  be,  were  God  to  scrutinize  our  life  with 


274 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


[8br.  LXXXU. 


rigour;  if  he  waited  only  for  the  first  oflence 
we  commit,  to  uluiiijo  us  into  tlie  abyss  reserved 
for  tlio  wicked?  Where  would  bo  the  Jobs, 
the  Moseses,  the  Davids,  and  all  tiiose  distin- 
guished otlenders,  whose  memory  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  immortalized,  to  comfort  us  under 
our  falls?  One  of  the  greatest  motives  to  com- 
ply with  a  law  is  the  lenity  of  tiie  legislator:  I 
will  cite  on  this  subject  a  j)assagc  of  Justin 
Martyr.*  "  How  could  Plato,"  says  ho,  "  cen- 
sure Homer  for  ascribing  to  tiie  Gods  placa- 
bility by  the  oblation  of  victims?  Those  who 
have  tiiis  hope,  are  the  very  jtersons  who  en- 
deavour to  recover  themselves  by  repentance 
and  reformation:  whereas,  when  they  consider 
the  Deity  as  an  inexorable  being,  they  abandon 
the  reins  to  corrupt  propensities,  having  no 
expectation  of  effect  from  rei)entance." 

Distinguish  then  the  virtue  we  enforce  from 
one  of  the  principal  means  of  its  acquisition. 
If  you  ask  me  what  is  perseverance?  1  answer, 
it  is  that  disposition  of  mind  whicli  enables  us, 
as  I  have  more  than  once  atlirmcd,  and  which 
is  still  necessary  to  repeat;  it  is  that  disposi- 
tion of  mind  which  enables  us,  all  things  con- 
sidered, to  give  God  the  preference  over  every 
sensible  object,  that  divine  love  may  predomi- 
nate in  our  heart  over  every  otlier  love.  If 
you  ask  me,  what  are  the  surest  means  of  ac- 
quiring that  disposition?  I  say,  it  is  to  watch 
against  every  temptation  to  which  you  may  be 
exposed.  I  say,  in  order  to  preserve  the  habit 
of  Christianity,  you  must  use  your  utmost  en- 
deavours never  to  do  any  thing  incompatible 
with  its  design. 

II.  Having  removed  the  ambiguity  of  the  term 
perseverance,  we  shall  prove  in  the  second  arti- 
cle that  we  cannot  be  saved  witliout  this  virtue. 
1.  Tiie  j)assage  we  have  e.\])liiineil  is  not 
solitary.  It  is  a  j)as,sage  which  coincides  with 
many  other  te.\ts  of  Scripture.  The  truth,  re- 
sulting from  the  sense  here  given,  is  not  a  truth 
substantiated  solely  by  tiie  text.  It  is  an  e.\- 
planation  which  a  great  number  of  express 
texts  establish  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt. 
Weigh  the  following:  "  Let  him  that  standcth 
take  heed  lest  he  fall,"  1  Cor.  x.  12.  "  Thou 
standest  by  faith.  J5e  not  high-minded,  but 
fear:  for  if  God  spared  not  the  natural  branches, 
take  heed  lest  he  also  spare  not  thee.  Bciiold, 
therefore,  the  goodness  and  tiioseverity  of  God: 
on  them  which  fall  severity;  but  towards  tliee 
goodness,  if  thou  continue  in  his  goodness: 
otherwise  thou  also  slialt  be  cut  oil","  Rom.  xi. 
20 — 22.  "  I  have  heard  the  voice  of  the  words 
of  this  people,  which  they  have  spoken  unto 
thee:  they  have  well  said  all  that  they  have 
spoken.  O  that  tiiere  were  sucii  a  heart  in 
thein,  that  they  would  fear  me,  tliat  it  might 
be  well  with  them,  and  their  children  for  ever," 
Deut.  V.  28,  29.  "  He  that  endurcth  unto  the 
end  shall  be  saved,"  Matt.  x.  22.  "  Hold  that 
fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy 
crown,"  Rev.  iii.  11.  "  Tiiou  son  of  man,  say 
unto  tiie  children  of  thy  people,  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  rigliteous  sliall  not  deliver  him  in 
the  day  of  his  transgression:  as  for  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  wicked,  ho  sliall  not  fall  thereby  in 
the  day  that  ho  turncth  from  his  wickedness; 
neither  shall  the  righteous  bo  able  to  live  for 


*  Ad  Grxcoi  exhorl.  p.  28.  Ed.  Colon. 


his  righteousness  in  the  day  that  he  siiineth. 
When  I  say  to  the  righteous,  that  he  shall 
surely  live:  if  he  trust  to  his  righteousness,  and 
coniniit  iniquity,  all  his  righteousness  shall  not 
bo  remembered;  but  for  his  iniquity  that  he 
hath  committed  he  shall  die,"  Ëzek.  iii.  xviii. 
xxxiii.  12,  i;{.  Sucli  is  the  morality  of  our 
Scriptures.  Such  is  the  vocation  of  the  faith- 
ful. It  is  not  enough  that  we  koej),  for  a  few 
years,  the  Cdinmandments  of  God;  we  must 
continue  to  keep  them.  It  is  not  enough  that 
wc  triumph  for  awhile  over  the  old  man,  we 
must  triuni|)h  to  tiie  end;  and  if  wo  have  wan- 
dered by  weakness  for  a  season,  we  must  stead- 
fastly return  to  piety  and  religion. 

2.  Consider  on  what  principle  the  Scripture 
characters  founded  their  assurance  of  salvation. 
Was  it  on  some  speculative  notions?  On  some 
confused  systems?  No:  it  has  been  on  the 
princijile  of  persevering  in  the  profession  of 
their  religion,  and  in  the  practice  of  virtue.  I 
will  adduce  but  one  example,  which  seems  to 
me  above  all  exception:  it  is  he,  who,  of  all  the 
sacred  authors,  has  furnished  us  witii  the  most 
conclusive  arguments  on  the  doctrine  of  assu- 
rance of  salvation,  and  the  inamissibility  of 
grace;  I  would  say,  the  example  of  St.  Paul. 
He  never  doubted  but  that  he  siiould  always 
persevere  in  piety,  and  in  the  profession  of  re- 
ligion. The  love  of  God  was  so  deeply  rooted 
in  tlie  heart  of  tiiis  apostle,  as  to  remove  all 
scruple  on  that  head.  When,  however,  St. 
Paul,  by  abstraction  of  mind,  considered  him» 
self  as  having  lost  the  disposition  which,  we 
shall  call  the  habit  of  Christianity;— .v hen  be 
considered  himself  as  falling  under  the  temp- 
tations which  expo.scd  him  to  the  flesh,  to  hell, 
and  the  world; — what  did  he  expect  consider- 
ing his  state  in  this  point  of  view?  What  did 
he  expect  after  the  acquisition  of  so  much  know- 
ledge; after  preaching  so  many  excellent  ser- 
mons; after  writing  bo  many  excellent  and 
catholic  epi-stles;  after  working  so  many  mira- 
cles; after  achieving  so  many  labours;  after  en- 
countering so  many  dangers;  after  enduring  so 
many  sutlerings  to  exalt  the  glory  of  Christ; 
after  setting  so  high  an  example  to  the  church.' 
What  did  he  expect  after  all  this?  Paradise.' 
The  crown  of  righteousness?  No:  he  expected 
hell  and  damnation.  Did  he  expect  that  his 
past  virtues  would  obtain  the  remission  of  his 
present  defects?  No:  he  expected  that  his  past 
virtues  would  aggravate  his  [jresent  faults.  "  I 
count  not  myself  to  have  apprehended,"  Phil, 
iii.  13.  "Hut  I  keep  under  my  body,  and 
bring  it  into  subjection,  lest  that  by  any  means, 
when  I  have  preaclied  unto  others,  I  myself 
should  be  a  cast-away,"  1  Cor.  ix.  27.  In  what 
situation  did  he  place  himself  to  lay  hold  of 
the  crown  of  righteousness,  and  to  obtain  the 
prize?  He  i)laced  himself  at  the  close  of  his 
course.  It  was  at  the  termination  of  life,  that 
tins  athletic  man  exclaimed,  "  I  have  fought  a 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have 
kejit  the  faith;  heiiccilbrth  there  is  laid  up  for 
nil!  a  crown  of  riglilenusness,"  2  Tim.  iv.  7,  8. 
3.  Consider  what  have  been  the  sentiments 
of  the  most  distinguished  Scripture  characters, 
when  they  recollect  themselves  in  those  awful 
moments,  in  which,  al"ter  they  had  so  far  of- 
fended against  divine  love  as  to  suppose  the 
habit  lost,   or   when  their  piety  was  so  for 


Ser.  LXXXIIl 


ON  PERSF-VERANCE. 


275 


eclipsed  as  to  suppose  it  was  vanished.  Did 
they  oppose  their  past  virtues  to  their  present 
faults?  Hear  tiiose  holy  men:  "  O  Lord,  iieal 
ine;  for  my  hones  are  vexed:  my  soul  is  also 
sore  vexed,"  Ps.  vi.  2.  "Mine  iniijuities  are 
gone  over  my  head,  as  a  heavy  burden:  they 
are  too  heavy  for  me,"  Ps.  xxxviii.  "  I  ac- 
knowledjre  my  transgression,  and  my  sin  is 
ever  before  me,"  Ps.  li.  3 — 1 1.  "  Make  me  to 
hear  joy  and  gladness,  that  the  bones  which 
thou  hast  broken  may  rejoice.  Cast  me  not 
away  from  thy  presence;  restore  me  unto  tlie 
joy  of  thy  salvation.  Will  the  Lord  cast  off 
for  ever?  And  will  he  be  favourable  no  more? 
Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  for  ever?  Dotli  his 
promise  fail  for  evermore?  Hatii  God  fitigot- 
tea  to  be  gracious?  Hatii  he  in  anger  shut  up 
Itis  tender  mercies!"  Ps.  l.\x.  8 — 10.  VVluit 
idea-s  do  these  words  excite  in  your  minds?  Is 
it  the  presumptuous  confidence  whicli  some 
men,  unhappily  called  Christians,  evince  after 
committing  tlie  foulest  offences?  Are  these  the 
sentiments  merely  of  an  individual,  who  by  a 
simple  emotion  of  generosity  and  gratitude,  re- 
proaches himself  for  having  insulted  his  bene- 
factor? Or  are  they  sorrows  arising  in  the  soul 
from  the  fears  of  being  deprived  of  tiiose  fa- 
vours in  future?  Magnanimous  sentiments, 
doubtless  are  found  in  the  characters  of  those 
distinguished  saints.  A  repentance,  founded 
solely  on  the  fear  of  hell,  can  never  obtain  a 
pardon:  it  may  do  well  enough  for  a  disciple 
of  Loyola;  but  not  for  a  disciple  of  Jesus 
Christ.  It  is  respect  for  order;  it  is  the  love 
of  God;  it  is  sorrow  for  having  offended  a  be- 
ing we  sincerely  love,  which  is  the  basis  of  true 
repentance.  It  is  fully  apparent  tliat  the  ex- 
pressions you  have  heard,  are  the  language  of 
a  soul  persuaded  of  this  truth,  that  we  cannot 
obtain  salvation  without  persevering  till  death 
in  the  habit  of  holiness,  which  it  fears  to  have 
lost.  They  are  the  language  of  a  soul,  which 
reproaches  itself,  not  only  for  a  deviation  from 
order,  but  whicli  fears,  lest  it  should  have  for- 
feited its  salvation. 

4.  Consider  the  absurdities,  arising  from  the 
opinion  we  attack.  The  commenc<;nicnt  of  a 
life,  sincerely  consecrated  to  tlie  service  of  God, 
is  a  sufficient  barrier  against  all  the  fears  aris- 
ing from  crimes  with  which  it  may  in  the  issue 
be  defiled.  The  children  of  God  can  never 
fall  from  grace.  And  none  but  the  children 
of  God  can  be  sincerely  consecrated  to  him  in 
the  early  period  of  life.  On  tiiis  principle,  I 
will  frame  you  a  system  of  religion  the  most 
relaxed,  accommodating,  and  easy,  even  at 
tlie  bar  of  corruption  the  most  obstinate  and 
inveterate.  Consecrate  sincerely  to  God  a  sin- 
gle hour  of  life.  Distinguish  by  some  virtue 
the  sincerity  of  that  early  period.  Then  write 
with  a  pen  of  iron  on  a  tablet  of  marble  and 
brass,  that.  In  such  a  day,  and  in  such  an 
hour,  I  had  the  marks  of  a  true  child  of  God. 
After  that,  plunge  headlong  into  vice;  run  un- 
bridled with  the  children  of  this  world  to  the 
same  excess  of  riot:  give  yourself  no  concern 
about  your  passions;  if  the  horrors  of  this 
state  should  excite  any  doubts  of  your  salva- 
tion, comfort  yourself  against  the  anaiheinas  ! 
of  legal  preachers;  comfort  yourself  against 
remorse  of  conscience,  by  casting  your  eves  on 
this  tablet  of  brass  and  marble; — monuments  of 


the  inamissibility  of  your  faith,  and  sure  pledges 
of  your  salvation.  Rut,  my  brethren,  was  this 
indeed  the  system  of  those  saints  of  whom  we 
have  spoken?  They  were  not  more  convinced 
of  this  priiici|)lo,  tliat  a  sincerely  good  man 
camiot  fall  from  grace,  than  of  this  which  fol- 
lows: that  a  man  who  carmot  fall  from  grace, 
cannot  fall  from  piety.  They  have  trembled 
on  doing  an  action  contrary  to  piety;  fearing 
lest  tlie  habit  was  lost. 

h.  In  a  word,  our  last  ])roof  of  the  neces- 
sity of  perseverance  is  founded  on  the  neces.sity 
of  progressive  religion.  It  is  a  proposition  al- 
ready established  on  other  occasions,  that  there 
is  no  precise  (toint  of  virtue,  at  which  we  are 
allowed  to  stop.  If  a  man  should  take  for  his 
model  one  of  the  faithful,  whose  piety  is  least 
of  all  suspected:  if  a  inaii  should  propose  to 
himself  so  fine  a  model,  and  there  restrict  his 
attainment,  saying,  /  i/;i//  go  so  far,  and  no 
further:  such  a  one  would  have  mistaken  no- 
tions of  religion.  The  Christian  model  is  Je- 
sus Christ.  Perfection  is  the  sole  object  of  a 
Christian;  and,  the  weaker  he  feels  himself  in 
its  acquisition,  the  more  should  he  redouble 
his  exertions  to  approach  it.  Every  period  of 
life  has  its  task  assigned.  The  duties  of  vouth 
will  not  dispense  with  those  of  riper  age;  and 
the  duties  of  ripier  age  will  not  dispense  with 
those  of  retiring  life.  "  Be  ye  perfect  as  your 
Father  who  is  in  heaven  is  perfect,"  Matt.  v. 
18.  This  is  the  command  of  Jesus  Christ. 
"  Be  perfect,"  2  Cor.  xiii.  II.  This  is  the  pre- 
cept of  St.  Paul.  What  do  you  infer  from  this 
principle?  If  we  are  condemned  for  not  hav- 
ing advanced,  what  sliall  we  be  for  having 
backslidden?  If  we  are  condemned  for  not 
having  carried  virtuous  attainments  to  a  more 
eminent  degree,  what  shall  we  be  for  having  de- 
based them  to  a  degree  so  far  below  the  standard? 
III.  But  a  doctrine  of  our  churches  seems  to 
frustrate  all  our  endeavours  to  prompt  you  to 
perseverance,  and  to  warn  you  that  salvation 
is  reserved  solely  for  those  who  do  persevere. 
It  is  this.  We  fully  believe,  that  the  most  il- 
lustrious saints  were  guilty  of  offences,  direct- 
ly opposed  to  Christianity;  but  we  profess  to 
believe,  that  it  was  impossible  thej- should  lose 
the  habit.  We  conceive  indeed  the  propriety 
of  exhorting  them  not  to  commit  those  faults 
which  it  is  impossible  they  should  commit. 
But  why  exhort  them  not  to  lose  a  habit  which 
they  cannot  lose?  Where  is  the  propriety  of 
alarming  them  with  a  destruction  on  the  brink 
of  which  grace  shall  make  them  perfect'  Thii 
is  the  difliculty  we  wish  to  solve;  and  this  is 
the  design  of  our  third  head. 

But  I  would  indeed  wish  to  illustrate  th« 
subject  without  reviving  the  controversies  it 
has  excited.  I  would  wish  conformably  to  the 
views  of  a  Christian  (from  which  especially  a 
gospel  minister  should  never  deviate,)  to  asso- 
ciate as  far  as  the  subject  will  admit,  peace 
and  truth.  If  the  wish  is  not  chimerical,  we 
cannot,  I  think,  better  succeed,  than  bv  avail- 
ing ourselves  of  a  point  unanimously  allowed 
by  the  divines  divided  on  this  subject,  in  order 
to  harmonize  what  seems  calculated  still  to  di- 
vide them. 

It  is  a  received  maxim  in  every  system,  I 
would  say,  in  every  system  of  those  who  are 
divided  on  the  doctrine  of  the  inamissibilily  of 


276 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


[Ser.  Lxxxn. 


grace;  that,  to  preserve  the  habit  of  holiness, 
without  which  they  unanimously  agree,  we 
cannot  be  saved,  we  must  use  all  the  means 
prescribed  in  the  sacred  Scripture  to  preserve 
so  valuable  a  disposition.  Divines,  whom  dif- 
ference of  opinion  has  irritated  against  one 
another,  reciprocally  accuse  their  brethren  of 
weakening  this  principle;  but  there  is  not  one 
among  them  who  docs  not  sincerely  embrace 
it,  and  complain  of  the  reproach,  when  charged 
with  having  rejected  it.  Those  who  exclaim 
against  the  doctrine  of  the  inamissibility  of 
grace,  are  bo  far  from  rejecting  it,  that  they 
pretend  to  bo  the  only  persons  who  establish  it 
upon  a  sure  foundation;  and  maintain  that  it 
cannot  exist  in  systems  opposed  to  the  first. 
They  say,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  inamissibili- 
ty of  grace  is  so  far  from  opposing  this  princi- 
ple, that  it  constitutes  its  foundation.  And 
who  among  the  advocates  for  this  doctrine, 
Jver  affirmed  that  we  can  preserve  the  grace 
of  perseverance,  if  we  frequent  the  haunts  of 
infamy;  if  we  keep  company  with  persons  who 
tempt  us  to  adultery  and  voluptuousness,  and 
80  with  regard  to  other  virtues?  This  then  is 
a  principle  such  as  I  would  seek.  It  is  a  prin- 
ciple inculcated  by  every  system,  that  in  order 
to  retain  the  habit  of  holiness,  without  which 
it  is  impossible  to  be  saved,  we  must  use  all 
the  means  pointed  out  in  the  sacred  Scriptures 
for  the  preservation  of  such  an  individual  tem- 
per of  mind. 

This  being  granted,  it  is  requisite  in  every 
system,  to  represent  the  calamities  we  incur 
by  losing  the  habit  of  holiness,  because  it  is 
the  dread  of  incurring  the  calamities  conse- 
quent on  our  fall,  which  the  Scriptures  point 
out  as  the  most  usual  and  powerful  preserva- 
tives from  apostacy.  Hence  they  exhort  us  to 
"  work  out  our  salvation  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling." Hence  they  make  one  part  of  a  good 
man's  happiness  to  consist  in  fearing  always. 
Hence  they  require  us  to  rejoice  with  trembling. 
Each  of  you  may  collect  a  variety  of  parallel 


Our  divines,  to  illustrate  this  subject,  have 
sometimes  employed  a  comparison,  which,  in 
my  opinion,  is  well  calculated  to  answer  their 
purpose.  It  is  that  of  a  wise  man  at  the  top 
of  a  tower,  who  has  all  the  necessary  means 
of  preserving  himself  from  falling  into  the 
abyss  open  to  his  view.  We  may  properly 
say,  it  is  impossible  such  a  man  should  fall. 
Why?  Because,  being  a  prudent  man,  and 
having  all  the  necessary  means,  it  is  im|)ossi- 
ble  his  prudence  should  not  |)rompt  him  to 
avail  himself  of  their  support.  But  in  what 
consists  one  part  of  this  means  of  safety?  It 
ia  the  faculty  suggested  by  his  prudence,  of 
knowing,  and  never  forgetting  the  risk  he 
runs,  should  he  neglect  the  means  of  safety. 
Thus  fear,  bo  circumstanced,  is  one  i)art  of  his 
safety,  and  his  safety  is  inseparable  from  his 
fear.  The  application  of  this  comparison  is 
easy;  every  one  may  make  it  without  difficulty'. 
It  is  sufficient,  not  indeed  to  remove  all  the 
difficulties  of  which  the  Idss  of  grace  is  suscep- 
tible; but  to  answer  the  ol)jeclioii  I  liavo  made 
of  its  being  useless,  on  a  supposition  of  the 
impossibility  of  falling  from  grace,  to  warn  a 
real  Christian  of  the  calamities  he  may  incur, 
■bould  he  lose  his  habit  of  piety. 


IV.  Three  classes  of  people  have  conse- 
quences to  deduce  from  the  doctrine  we  have 
now  advanced.  We  first  address  ourselves  to 
those  who  seem  least  of  all  interested;  I  would 
say,  those  who  have  no  cause  to  fear  falling 
from  grace;  not  because  they  are  established, 
but  because  they  never  entertained  the  sincere 
resolutions  of  conversion.  If  people  of  this 
description  would  pay  serious  attention  to  their 
state;  if  they  would  read  the  Scriptures  with 
recollection;  if  they  would  listen  to  our  ser- 
mons with  a  real,  not  a  vague  and  superficial 
design  of  reducing  them  to  practice,  I  think 
the  doctrine  we  have  delivered  would  rouse 
them  from  their  indolence;  I  think  it  would 
hinder  them  from  going  so  intensely  into  the 
world,  on  withdrawing  from  devotion,  as  not 
to  hear  the  voice  of  their  conscience.  What! 
the  people  of  whom  we  speak  should  say, 
What!  Christians  of  the  first  class;  what!  those 
distinguished  saints  who  have  devoted  the 
whole  of  their  life  to  duty;  what!  those  who 
have  "  wrought  out  their  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling;"  can  they  promise  themselves 
nothing  from  past  efforts?  What!  are  all  the 
sacrifices  they  have  made  for  Christianity  use- 
less, unless  they  persevere  in  piety;  and,  for 
having  failed  to  run  only  a  few  steps  of  their 
course,  will  they  fail  of  obtaining  the  prize 
promised  to  those  only  who  finish  the  whole? 
And  I,  miserable  wretch,  who  am  so  far  from 
being  the  first  of  saints,  that  I  am  the  chief  of 
sinners; — I,  who  am  so  far  from  having  run 
the  race  which  Christ  has  set  before  his  disci- 
ples, as  to  have  put  it  far  away; — I,  who  have 
been  so  far  from  working  out  my  salvation,  as 
to  have  laboured  only  by  slander,  by  calumny, 
by  perjury,  by  blasphemy,  by  fornication,  by 
adultery,  by  drunkenness; — I,  who  have  done 
nothing  but  obstruct  the  work,  yet  I  am  com- 
posed, I  am  tranquil!  Whence  proceeds  this 
peace?  Does  it  not  proceed  solely  from  this 
circumstance,  that,  my  sins  having  constrained 
the  Deity  to  prepare  the  sentence  of  my  eter- 
nal condemnation,  he  has  (among  the  calami- 
ties prepared  for  me  by  his  justice,)  the  fatal 
condescension  to  make  me  become  sensible  of 
my  misery,  lest  I  should  anticipate  my  condem- 
nation, by  the  dreadful  torments  which  the 
certainty  of  being  damned  would  e.xcite  in  my 
soul.  Oh,  dreadful  calm!  faUl  peace!  tran- 
quillity to  which  despair  itself  is  perferable,  if 
there  be  any  thing  preferable  in  despair!  Oh! 
rather,  thou  sword  of  divine  vengeance,  bran- 
dish before  my  eyes  all  thy  terrors!  Array 
in  battle  against  mo  all  the  terrors  of  the 
mighty  God,  as  in  the  awful  day  of  judgment; 
and  striking  my  soul  with  the  greatness  of  my 
misery,  give  me,  at  least,  if  there  be  time,  to 
emancipate  myself  !  If  there  be  yet  time?  And, 
if  there  be  not  time,  why  do  you  yet  breatha' 
Why  are  there  still  open  to  you  the  gates  of 
this  temple?  Why  is  the  gospel  still  preached, 
if  it  is  not  that  you  may  be  recollected;  if  it 
is  not  tiiat  you  may  renounce  the  principles  of 
your  past  folly;  if  it  is  not  that  you  may  yield 
to  calls  of  grace,  which  publish  to  you  the 
consoling  declarations  of  the  merciful  God? 
"  When  I  say  unto  the  wicked.  Thou  shalt 
surely  die;  if  he  turn  from  his  sin,  and  do  that 
which  is  lawful  and  right;  if  the  wicked  re- 
store the  pledge,  give  again  that  he  hath 


Skr.  LXXXIl.] 


ON  PERSEVERANCE. 


277 


robbed,  walk  in  the  statutes  of  life  witliout 
committinjr  iniquity,  ho  shall  surely  live,  he 
«hall  not  die.  None  of  his  sins  that  he  lialh 
committed,  shall  be  mentioned  unto  him," 
Ezek.  xxxiii.  14—16. 

A  second  sort  of  people,  who  ought  to  de- 
rive serious  instruction  from  tlie  words  of  my 
text,  is  tliose  visionaries;  who,  while  engaged 
in  the  habit  of  hating  their  neighbours,  of  for- 
nication, of  revenge,  or  in  one  or  tiie  otlier  of 
those  vices,  of  which  the  Scripture  says,  "  they 
that  do  such  things  shall  not  inherit  tlie  king- 
dom of  God,"  fancy  themselves  to  be  in  a  state 
of  grace,  and  believe  they  shall  ever  abide  in 
that  state,  provided  they  never  doubt  of  tiie 
work.  People  of  this  character, — wiiether  it 
be  that  they  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  An- 
tinomian  guides,  one  of  the  greatest  plagues 
with  which  justice  punishes  the  crimes  of  men, 
and  one  of  the  most  awful  pests  of  the  church; 
or  whether  it  be  the  ett'ect  of  those  passions, 
which,  in  general,  so  fascinate  the  mind,  as  to 
prevent  their  seeing  the  most  evident  truths 
•opposed  to  their  system;  but  people  of  this 
class  presumptuously  apply  to  themselves  the 
<loctrine  of  the  inamissibility  of  grace,  at  the 
time  when  we  display  the  arm  of  God  ready 
to  pour  the  thunder  of  its  vengeance  upon  their 
iheads.  But  know,  once  for  all,  it  is  not  to 
yoM  that  the  inamissibility  of  grace  belongs. 
Whether  a  true  saint  may  faJl,  or  whether  he 
•may  not  fall,  it  is  the  same  thing  with  regard 
to  you;  and  your  corruption  will  gain  nothing 
by  the  decision:  for  if  the  true  saint  may  fall, 
I  have  cause  to  conclude  that  you  are  already 
fallen;  since,  notwithstanding  the  regeneration 
you  pretend  to  have  received,  you  now  have 
no  marks  of  real  saints;  and  if  a  real  saint 
cannot  fall,  I  have  cause  to  conclude  that  you 
were  deluded  in  the  notions  you  had  formed 
of  yourselves  with  regard  to  conversion.  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  you  never  were 
true  saints,  because  I  see  with  my  own  eyes, 
that  you  no  longer  sustain  the  character.  Here 
is  the  abridgement  of  the  controversy.  Here  is 
a  decision  of  the  question  lietween  us.  But  if 
it  do  not  agree  with  your  systems,  preserve 
those  systems  carefully;  preserve  them  to  the 
great  day,  when  the  Lord  shall  render  unto 
every  man  according  to  his  works;  and  endea- 
vour,— endeavour  in  the  presence  of  the  Judge 
of  all  the  earth,  to  defend  your  depravity  by 
your  opinions. 

There  is  yet  a  third  class  of  people,  who 
ought  to  make  serious  reflections  on  the  doc- 
trine of  perseverance.  It  is  those  who  carry 
the  consequences  to  an  extreme;  who,  from  a 
notion  that  they  must  endure  to  the  end  of 
their  course  to  be  saved,  persuade  tliemselves 
that  they  cannot  be  assured  of  their  salvation 
till  they  come  to  that  period.  It  is  not  to  min- 
isters who  maintain  so  detestable  a  notion,  that 
this  article  is  addressed.  It  is  not  to  captious, 
but  to  tender  minds,  and  those  tender  minds 
who  are  divided  between  the  exalted  ideas 
they  entertain  of  duty,  and  the  fears  of  devia- 
tion. Fear,  holy  souls;  but  sanctify  your  fear. 
Entertain  exalted  views  of  your  duty;  but  let 
tliose  exalted  views  be  a  sure  test  that  you  will 
never  deviate;  and,  while  you  never  lose  sight 
of  the  difficulties  with  which  the  race  Christ 
has  set  before  you  is  accompanied,  never  lose 


sight  of  those  objects  which  he  has  set  before 
you,  in  order  that  you  may  be  enabled  to  sur- 
mount them. 

A  Christian  is  supported  in  his  course  by 
the  very  nature  of  the  ditHculties  which  occur. 
These  are  many,  and  wc  shall  have  occasion 
to  enumerate  them  in  a  subsequent  discourse. 
But,  with  discerning  Christians,  all  these  things 
may  promote  the  end  they  seem  to  oppose,  and 
realize  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  that  "all  things 
work  toîrelher  for  good  to  them  that  love  God," 
Rom.  viii.  28.  One  of  those  difficulties,  for 
instance,  to  which  a  Christian  is  exposed  in  his 
race,  is  adversity;  but  adversity  is  so  far  from 
obstructing  him  in  his  course,  as  to  become  an 
additional  motive  to  pursue  it  with  delight;  and 
to  assist  him  in  taking  an  unreluctant  flight  to- 
wards the  skies.  Another  difficulty  is  pros- 
perity; but  prosperity  assists  him  to  estimate 
the  .goodness  of  God,  and  induces  him  to  in- 
fer, that  if  his  happiness  here  be  so  abundant, 
what  must  it  be  in  the  mansions  of  felicity, 
seeing  he  already  enjoys  so  much  in  these 
abodes  of  misery.  Another  of  those  difficulties 
is  health;  which,  by  invigorating  the  body, 
strengthens  the  propensity  to  sin;  but  health, 
by  invigorating  the  body,  strengthens  him  also 
for  the  service  of  God.  So  it  is  with  every 
obstruction. 

A  Christian  is  supported  in  his  course,  by 
those  unspeakable  joys  which  he  finds  in  the 
advancement  of  his  progress;  by  "  the  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding;"  by  the  se- 
renity of  justification;  by  an  anticipated  resur- 
rection; by  a  foretaste  of  paradise  and  glory, 
which  descend  into  his  soul,  before  he  himself 
is  exalted  to  heaven. 

A  Christian  is  supported  in  his  course  (as  we 
have  already  intimated  in  this  sermon,)  by  the 
consideration  even  of  those  torments,  to  which 
he  would  be  exposed  if  he  should  come  short. 
The  patriarch  Noah  trembled,  no  doubt,  on 
seeing  the  cataracts  of  heaven  let  loose,  and 
the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  broke  open, 
and  the  angry  God  execute  his  threatening, 
"  I  will  destroy  man  whom  I  have  created, 
from  off  the  face  of  the  earth;  both  man  and 
beast,  for  it  repenteth  me  that  I  have  made 
them,"  Gen.  vi.  1.  But  this  fear  apprised  him 
of  his  privilege,  being  exempt  in  the  ark  from 
the  universal  desolation;  which  induced  him  to 
abide  in  his  refuge. 

A  Christian  is  supported  in  his  course  by 
supernatural  aid,  which  raise  him  above  the 
powers  of  nature;  which  enable  him  to  say, 
"  when  I  am  weak,  then  I  am  strong;"  and  to 
exclaim  in  the  midst  of  conflicts,  "  blessed  be 
God  which  always  causest  us  to  triumph  in 
Christ,"  2  Cor.  ii.  14.  "  I  can  do  all  things 
through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me,"  Phil, 
iv.  13. 

A  Christian  is  supported  in  his  course  by  the 
confidence  he  has  of  succeeding  in  the  work 
in  which  he  is  engaged,  and  of  holding  out  to 
the  end.  And  where  is  the  man  in  social  life, 
who  can  have  the  like  assurance  with  regard 
to  the  things  of  this  world?  Where  is  the  gen- 
eral, who  can  assure  himself  of  success  by  the 
dispositions  he  may  make  to  obtain  the  vic- 
tory? Where  is  the  statesman,  who  can  assure 
himself  of  warding  off  every  blow  which  threat- 
ens the  natioa»   The  Christian, — the  Christian 


278 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAIXTS. 


[Ser.  LXXXIII. 


alone  has  tJiis  superior  asstiranrc.  I  fear  no- 
thing but  your  lieart;  answer  nie  with  your 
heart;  answer  me  with  your  sincerity,  and  I 
will  answer  you  for  all  the  rest. 

A  C'lirii-tian  is  sui)])ortcd  in  his  course,  above 
all,  by  the  grandeur  of  the  salvation  with 
which  he  is  to  he  crowned.  What  shall  I  say, 
my  dear  brethren,  on  the  grandeur  of  this  sal- 
vation.' That  I  have  not  the  secret  of  com- 
pressing into  the  last  words  of  a  discourse,  all 
the  traits  of  an  object,  the  immensity  of  which 
shall  absorb  our  tlioughts  and  reflections  to  all 
eternity.' 

With  such  vast  support,  shalt  thou,  timo- 
rous soul,  still  be  agitated  with  those  distressing 
fears  which  discourage  wicked  men  from  en- 
tering on  the  course  prescribed  by  Jesus  Christ 
to  his  disciples.'  "  Fear  not,  thou  worm  Ja- 
cob, for  I  am  with  thee.  Thy  lledecmer  is  the 
Holy  One  of  Israel.  They  tliat  are  for  us,  are 
more  than  all  they  that  are  against  us,"  2 
Kings,  vi.  16.  "When  thou  passest  through 
the  waters,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee:  when 
thou  walkest  through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not 
be  burned,"  Isa.  xliii.  2.  To  this  adorable 
Deity,  who  opens  to  us  so  fine  a  course,  who 
affords  us  such  abundant  means  for  its  comple- 
tion, be  honour,  glory,  empire,  and  magnifi- 
cence, now  and  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXIII. 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 

PART  I. 


Hebrews  xii.  L 
Wherefore,  seeing  we  are  also  compassed  about 
with  so  great  a  cloud  of  ivitnesses,  let  us  lay 
aside  every  tccight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so 
easily  beset  us;  and  let  %is  run  icith  patience  the 
race  thai  is  set  before  -us. 
There  are  few  persons  so  very  depraved,  as 
not  to  admire  the  line  of  life  prescribed  by  re- 
ligion; hut  there  are  few  sufficiently  virtuous 
to  follow  it,  or  even  to  consider  it  in  any  other 
light  than  as  a  grand  sclieine  captivating  to  an 
enlightened  mind,  hut  to  which  it  is  impossible 
to  conform.  To  inquire,  as  soon  as  we  arc  ca- 
pable of  reflection,  what  is  the  Being  who  gave 
us  birth,  to  yield  to  a  world  of  arguments 
which  attest  his  existence  and  perfections;  to 
join  the  consort  of  creation  which  |)ublishes 
his  glory;  to  devote  one's  self  to  him  to  whom 
we  are  indebted  for  all  our  comforts;  and  on 
whom  all  our  ho|)es  depend;  to  make  continual 
efforts  to  ])ierce  tlioFC  veils  which  conceal  him 
from  our  view,  to  seek  a  more  concise  and  sure 
way  of  knowing  him  than  that  of  nature;  to 
receive  revelation  with  avidity;  to  adore  the 
characters  of  divine  perfections  which  it  traces; 
to  take  them  fur  a  rule  of  life;  to  sigh  on  de- 
viation from  those  models  of  i>erfe(  tion,  and 
repair,  by  revigoratcd  efforts  of  virtue,  what- 
ever faults  one  may  have  committed  against 
virtue,  is  the  line  of  life  prcs(!rii)cd  by  religion. 
And  who  so  far  dejuaved,  as  not  to  admire  it? 
But  who  is  so  virtuous  as  to  follow  it,  or  even 
to  believe  that  it  can  be  followed?  We  look 
upon  it,  for  the  most  part,  as  wo  do  the  notions 


of  an  ancient  philosopher  respecting  govern- 
ment. The  |)rincii)les,  on  which  he  established 
his  system  of  j)olilics,  have  appeared  admira- 
ble, and  the  consequences  he  has  deduced,  have 
appeared  like  streams  j)ure  as  their  source. 
God,  in  creating  men,  says  this  philosopher, 
gave  them  all  means  of  preservation  from  the 
miseries  which  seem  appendant  to  their  condi- 
tion: and  they  have  but  themselves  to  blame  if 
they  neglected  to  profit  by  them.  His  bounty 
has  supplied  them  with  resources,  to  terminate 
the  evils  into  which  they  full  by  choice.  Let 
them  return  to  the  j)ractice  of  truth  and  virtue, 
from  which  they  have  deviated,  and  they  shall 
find  that  felicity  to  which  nolhing  but  virtue 
and  truth  can  conduct  society.  Let  the  states 
elect  a  sovereign  like  the  God  who  governed 
in  the  age  of  innocence;  let  them  obey  the 
laws  of  God.  Let  kings  and  subjects  enter 
into  the  same  views  of  making  each  other  mu- 
tually happy.  Tlie  whole  world  has  admired 
this  fine  notion;  but  they  have  only  admired 
it:  and  regard  it  merely  as  a  system.  The 
princes  and  the  people,  to  whom  this  philoso- 
pher wrote,  are  as  yet  unborn;  hence  we  com- 
monly say,  the  republic  of  Plato,  when  we  wish 
to  express  a  beautiful  chimera.  I  blush  to 
avow  it,  but  truth  extorts  it  from  me,  that  this 
is  the  notion  most  men  entertain  of  religion. 
They  make  its  very  beauty  an  argument  for  its 
neglect,  and  their  own  weakness  an  apology 
for  the  repugnance  they  feel  in  submitting  to 
its  laws:  this  is  precisely  the  temper  we  pro- 
pose to  attack.  We  will  prove,  by  evident 
facts,  and  by  experience,  which  is  consequently 
above  all  exception,  that  however  elevated 
above  the  condition  of  man  the  scheme  of  re- 
ligion may  appear,  it  is  a  scheme  which  may 
be  followed,  seeing  it  has  been  followed  al- 
ready. 

To  this  point  we  shall  direct  the  subsequent 
part  of  our  discourse  on  the  text  we  have  read. 
VVe  have  divided  it  into  three  parts; — distin- 
guished duties, — excellent  models, — and  wise 
precautions.  Of  distinguished  duties,  "  let  us 
run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before 
us,"  we  have  treated  in  our  first  discourse. 
Of  wise  precautions,  "  let  us  lay  aside  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset 
ns,"  we  hope  to  treat  in  a  succeeding  sermon. 
Of  excellent  models,  "seeing  we  also  are  com- 
j)assed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witness- 
es," we  shall  speak  to-day.  Happy,  if  struck 
with  so  many  heroic  actions,  about  to  be  set 
before  your  eyes,  you  may  bo  led  to  follow 
them,  and  to  augment  this  cloud  of  witnesses, 
of  whom  tile  Holy  Sjjirit  himself  has  not  dis- 
dained to  make  the  eulogium.  Happy,  if  we 
may  say  of  you,  as  we  now  say  of  tiiem,  by 
faith  they  repelled  the  wisdom  of  this  world; 
by  faith  they  triumphed  over  the  charms  of 
roncupiscence;  by  faith  they  endured  the  most 
cruel  torments;  by  faith  they  coiKjucred  the 
coicstial  Jerusalem,  wiiich  was  the  vast  reward 
of  all  their  conflicts.     Amen. 

"  Wherefore,  seeing  we  also  are  compassed 
about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us 
rim  with  patience  the  race  which  is  set  before 
us."  What  is  this  cloud,  or  multitude,  of 
which  the  apostle  speaks?  The  answer  is  not 
equivocal,  they  are  the  faithful  enumerated  in 
the  preceding  cliapter.     Of  what  were  they 


Ser.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


279 


witnesses?  Of  that  important  trulli,  with 
which  ho  would  impress  the  minds  of  tiio  He- 
brews, and  wiiich  alone  was  capable  of  sup- 
porting the  expectation  of  martyrdom,  that 
God  "  is  the  rewarder  of  all  them  that  dili- 
gently seek  him;"  that  liow  great  soever  the 
sacrifices  may  be  wo  make  for  liini,  we  shall 
be  annply  reconipcnsud  by  his  equity,  or  by  his 
love:  the  faithful  have  witnessed  this,  not  only 
by  their  professions,  but  by  their  conduct; 
some  by  sacrifices  which  cost  the  most  to  Hesh 
and  blood;  some  by  abandoning  their  riches; 
others  by  devoting  their  lives.  Hai)j)ily  this 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  He- 
brews, is  clearly  known  even  to  the  less  in- 
structed of  our  hearers;  this  may  supply  our 
weakness,  and  the  brevity  of  these  exercises 
in  making  an  analysis.  We  shall  however  run 
over  it,  remarking  whatever  may  most  contri- 
bute to  illustrate  the  subject. 

The  first  thing  which  not  a  little  surprises 
us,  is,  that  St.  Taul  has  equally  brought  to- 
gether, as  models,  men  who  seem  to  have  been 
not  only  of  very  different,  but  of  very  oppo- 
site conduct.  How  could  he  class  Samson, 
the  slave  of  a  prostitute:  how  could  he  class 
Ilahab,  of  whom  it  is  doubtful  at  least,  whe- 
ther she  did  not  practice  the  most  infamous  of 
all  professions:  how  could  he  put  those  two 
persons  on  a  parallel  with  Joseph,  who  has 
been  held  up  to  all  ages,  not  only  as  a  model, 
but  as  the  martyr  for  chastity?  How  could  he 
place  Jepthah,  the  oppressor  of  Ephraim, 
whom  we  deem  worthy  of  censure  for  the  most 
distinguished  action  of  all  his  life;  I  would  say 
the  devotion  of  his  only  daughter,  whetlier  in 
sacrifice  or  celibacy,  a  question  not  to  be  ex- 
amined here;  how  could  he  class  this  man  in 
a  rank  with  Abraham,  who  was  ready  to  immo- 
late his  son  at  the  divine  command;  with 
Abraham  the  most  humane  of  conquerors,  who 
made  this  magnanimous  reply  to  the  officers 
of  an  alliance  he  had  received,  "  I  have  lift 
up  my  hand  unto  the  Lord,  the  most  high 
God,  the  possessor  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  I 
will  not  take  from  thee  a  tliread  even  to  a 
shoe-latchet,  and  I  will  not  take  any  thing 
that  is  thine,  lest  thou  shouldest  say,  I  have 
made  Abraham  rich?"  Gen.  xiv.  22,  23.  How 
could  he  put  Gideon,  who  availed  himself  of 
the  spoils  of  Midian  by  the  supernatural  aids 
of  Heaven,  to  make  an  ephod,  and  to  turn 
away  the  Israelites  from  the  worship  of  the 
true  God,  on  a  scale  with  Moses,  who  "  pre- 
ferred affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  to  the 
pleasures  of  sin  which  are  but  for  a  season?" 
Heb.  xi.  25.  I  have  too  much  reason  to  be 
convinced,  that  many  of  my  hearers  would 
wish  to  follow  models  of  this  description.  I 
have  too  much  reason  to  be  convinced,  that 
many  would  delight  in  a  faith  like  that  of 
Samson,  like  that  of  Jepthah,  like  that  of 
Gideon.  Witiiout  adopting  or  rejecting  the 
solutions  usually  given  of  this  dilliculty,  here 
is  what  may  be  replied. 

You  should  keep  in  view,  the  design  of  St. 
Paul  in  placing  this  group  of  personages  be- 
fore the  Hebrews.  He  would  animate  them 
with  that  faith,  which  as  we  expressed  our- 
selves relying  on  tiie  apostle's  principles}  that 
faith  which  persuades  us,  that  how  great  so- 
ever the  sacrifices  may  be  we  make  for  God, 


we  shall  be  rewarded  by  his  equity,  or  by  his 
love.  Faith  thus  taken  in  its  vaguest  and 
most  extended  view,  ought  to  be  restricted  to 
those  particular  circumstances  in  which  it  was 
exercised,  and  according  to  the  particular  kind 
of  promises  which  it  embraced,  or,  not  losing 
sigiit  of  obedience,  in  regard  to  those  particu- 
lar kinds  of  sacrifice  which  God  retjuircs  us  to 
make.  One  man  is  called  to  march  at  Uie 
head  of  armies  to  defend  an  oppressed  nation. 
God  promises  to  reward  bin  courage  with  vic- 
tory. The  man  believes,  he  fights,  ho  con- 
quers. The  object  of  his  faith  in  this  particu- 
lar circumstance,  is  the  promise  I  have  men- 
tioned; I  am  right  then  in  defining  faith  as  St. 
Paul,  when  he  says,  "Faith  is  the  substance 
of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen,"  Heb.  xi.  1.  It  is  that  disposition  of 
heart,  in  ap|)roaching  God,  which  enables  u» 
to  believe,  that  he  "  is  the  rewarder  of  them 
that  diligently  seek  him."  By  faith  the  man 
of  whom  I  spoke  obtained  the  victory. 

But  I  will  adduce  the  case  of  another,  call- 
ed to  suffer  martyrdom  for  religion  The  par- 
ticular objects  of  his  faith  in  the  case  I  have 
supposed,  are  the  promises  of  salvation.  I  am 
right  in  defining  faith  as  it  is  defined  by  St. 
Paul,  when  he  says,  "  Faith  is  the  substance 
of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things 
not  seen."  It  is  that  disposition  of  mind  which 
enables  him  in  approaching  God,  to  believe 
that  "  he  is  the  rewarder  of  all  them  that  dili- 
gently seek  him."  By  faith  the  man  of  whom 
I  spoke  obtained  salvation. 

You  perceive,  I  flatter  myself,  in  the  first 
case  I  have  adduced,  that  if  the  general  per- 
suasion this  man  had,  that  God  "  is  the  re- 
warder of  all  them  that  diligently  seek  him," 
did  not  embrace  for  its  object  all  the  promises 
of  salvation,  nor  induce  him  to  make  all  the 
sacrifices  his  salvation  required;  he  is  worthy 
however  of  imitation  in  this  instance,  his  faith 
having  embraced  the  particular  promise  which 
had  been  given  him:  and  it  is  evident,  if  I  do 
not  know  any  thing  of  this  man's  life,  except 
that  his  faith  having  been  sufficiently  strong 
for  a  particular  sacrifice,  I  may  presume  what 
I  cannot  prove,  it  w-ould  have  been  adequate 
for  every  other  sacrifice  required  by  his  salva- 
tion. 

The  doctrine  discussed  being  considered,  not 
only  obviates  the  difficulty  proposed,  but  satis- 
fies the  scruple  which  may  be  made  concern- 
ing some  of  the  saints  whose  example  is  pro- 
posed as  a  pattern  by  St.  Paul. 

Do  you  ask,  why  St.  Paul  arranges  in  the 
same  class,  and  proposes  as  equal  models,  per- 
sonages so  distinguished  by  virtue,  and  others 
by  vice?  I  answer,  that  whatever  distance 
there  might  have  been  between  the  difierent 
personages,  they  are  all  worthy  of  imitation 
in  regard  to  what  is  excellent  in  those  instan- 
ces to  which  the  apostle  refers. 

But  if  you  ask  whether  the  faith  which  in- 
duced Samson,  Jepthah,  and  Gideon^  to  make 
some  particular  sacrifices  for  God,  prompted 
them  to  make  every  sacrifice  which  their  sal- 
vation required?  we  answer,  that  whatever  fa- 
vourable presumption  charity  ought  to  inspire, 
no  man  is  authorised  to  answer  the  question 
in  the  affirmative;  for  seeing  some  are  found 
who  have  performed  the  first  miracles  of  faith 


280 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


(Ser.  LXXXIM. 


without  performing  the  second,  we  ouglit  not 
to  be  confident  that  those  doubtful  charactera 
performed  liie  second  because  tliey  ably  per- 
formed tiie  first. 

But  if  you  exclaim  against  this  opinion,  I 
will  add,  not  only  that  Jesus  C'iirist  has  af- 
firmed he  will  say  to  many  in  the  great  day, 
who  had  miraculous  faith,  "  1  know  you  not;" 
but  we  have  proof  that  many  of  those,  whose 
example  the  apostle  has  adduced  in  the  ele- 
venth chapter  of  the  e|)istle  to  tiie  Hebrews, 
were  detestable  characters,  notwithstanding 
their  endowment  of  miraculous  faitli.  Here 
is  our  proof;  St.  Paul  has  arranged  in  the  cla.^s 
of  those  whose  faith  he  extols,  all  the  Israel- 
ites who  passed  tlirough  llie  Red  Sea.  Now, 
it  is  evident  that  a  vast  proportion  of  these 
were  detestable  men;  then,  draw  yourselves 
the  consequence.  And  here  you  have  the  rea- 
son of  St.  Paul's  having  happily  proposed  to 
the  Hebrews,  the  examples  of  the  miracles 
achieved  by  the  faith  of  those  whom  I  call 
doubtful  characters.  Those  miracles  were  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  encourage  the  minds  of 
the  Hebrews,  and  to  Imbolden  their  purposes  | 
of  making  distinguished  sacrifices  for  religion: 
but  you  have  the  reason,  also,  of  his  not  being 
satisfied  with  merely  setting  before  them  those 
examples.  You  have  the  reason  of  his  not 
being  satisfied  with  setting  before  him  the  ex- 
ample of  a  faith,  concerning  which  the  Scrip- 
tures are  silent,  if  it  had  only  particular  promi- 
ses for  its  object;  he  sets  before  them  the  ex- 
ample of  those  saints,  whose  faith  had  parti- 
cularly in  view  the  promises  of  eternal  felici- 
ty. But  were  there,  indeed,  among  tliose 
saints  enumerated  by  the  apostle,  men,  whose 
faith  had,  for  its  object,  the  promises  of  eter- 
nal felicity?  Did  the  obscurity  of  the  dispen- 
sation, in  which  they  lived,  permit  them  to 
pierce  the  veil  which  still  concealed  from  their 
view  a  happier  life  than  what  they  enjoyed  on 
earth?  Let  us  not  doubt  it,  my  brethren:  to 
avoid  one  extreme,  let  us  not  fall  into  the  op- 
posite one.  St.  Paul  lias  proved  it,  not  only 
by  his  own  authority,  but  also  by  the  nature 
of  the  case,  and  by  the  testimony  of  the  Jews 
of  his  own  age. 

From  the  example  of  the  patriarchs,  he  ad- 
duces, first,  that  of  Abel.  An  ancient  tradi- 
tion of  the  Jews  informs  us,  that  the  subject 
of  dispute,  between  him  and  Cain,  turned  on 
the  doctrine  of  future  rewards.  Cain  main- 
tained that  none  were  to  be  expected  in  a  fu- 
ture life;  Abel  supported  the  contrary  propo- 
sition. The  former  of  those  brothers  supplied 
argument  by  violence;  unable  to  convince  Abel, 
he  assassinated  him.  It  is  from  this  tradition 
that  some  of  our  learned  think  wc  ought  to 
understand  those  words  of  the  apostle,  "  who 
being  dead  yet  speakcth."  They  translate, 
"  We  have  still  extant  a  tradition,  that  he  died 
for  his  faith;  namely,  tlic  doctrine  of  a  future 
itatc." 

He  cites  the  example  of  Enoch,  who  was  so 
powerfully  per.suaded  of  a  life  to  come,  as  to 
obtain  a  translation,  excmi)ting  hini  from  the 
painful  path  which  olliors  must  travel  to  glo- 
ry; I  would  say,  from  tasting  the  horrors  of 
death. 

He  adduces  the  example  of  Noah,  who  not 
only  escaped  the  calamities  of  the  deluge,  but 


"  became  heir  of  the  righteousness  which  is  by 
faith."  What  is  this  "  heritage  of  righteous- 
ness by  faith."  It  is,  according  to  the  style  of 
the  sacred  authors,  eternal  life.  Hence  the 
many  parallel  explications  we  find  in  other  pla- 
ce»; as  in  the  first  chapter  of  this  epistle. 
"  Are  not  the  angels  all  ministering  spirits, 
sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  who  shall  be 
heirs  of  salvation.'"  That,  also,  in  the  second 
chapter  of  the  catholic  Epistle  of  St.  James, 
"  God  hath  chosen  the  poor  of  this  world  to 
be  heirs  of  the  kingdom,  which  he  hath  pro 
mised  to  them  that  love  him." 

He  farther  alleges  the  example  of  Abraham, 
of  Isaac,  of  Jacob,  and  of  Joseph.  The  confi- 
dence which  the  patriarchs  reposed  in  the  pro- 
mise of  an  earthly  Canaan,  proves  that  they 
expected  a  heavenly  inheritance;  because  they 
continued  faithful  followers  of  God,  though 
they  never  inherited  the  terrestrial  country, 
which  was  apparently  promised  to  them,  but 
continued  to  be  "  strangers  and  sojourners." 
"I  am,"  says  Abraham  to  the  Egyptians,  "a 
stranger  among  you."  And  Jacob  to  Pharaoh, 
"  The  days  of  my  pilgrimage," — or  the  time  of 
my  life,  during  which  period  I  have  been  a 
stranger  and  a  sojourner:—"  the  days  of  my  pil- 
grimage are  not  equal  to  those  of  my  fathers." 
St.  Paul's  remark  on  these  expressions  of  the 
patriarchs  is  worthy  of  regard.  "  They  that 
say  such  things  declare  plainly  that  they  seek  a 
country.  And  truly,  if  they  had  been  mindful 
of  that  country  from  whence  they  come  out, 
they  might  have  had  opportunity  to  have  re- 
turned; but  now  they  seek  a  better  country;  that 
is,  an  heavenly,"  Heb.  xi.  14 — 16.  That  is  to 
say,  those  holy  men  could  but  consider  two  sorts 
of  countries  as  their  own,  either  the  land  of 
their  fathers,  or  the  land  of  Canaan,  of  which 
God  had  promised  to  give  them  possession. 
They  had  not  this  notion  of  the  land  of  C3anaan, 
seeing  they  considered  themselves  as  "stran- 
gers and  sojourners;" — seeing  that  Abraham 
there  possessed  only  so  much  land  as  was  suffi- 
cient for  a  sepulchre; — seeing  Joseph's  sole  hap- 
piness, in  this  view,  was  to  command  his  chil- 
dren to  carry  up  his  bones,  when  they  went  to 
possess  it.  They  could  no  longer  consider  Chal- 
dea,  in  which  their  fathers  were  born,  as  their 
country:  in  that  case,  they  would  have  returned 
on  finding  themselves  strangers  in  the  land  of 
Canaan.  Hence  it  is  evident  from  their  con- 
duct, that  they  still  sought  their  country;  a 
country  better  than  their  fathers',  and  a  better 
than  their  children  expected  to  possess;  "  They 
showed  that  they  expected  a  better,  that  is,  an 
heavenly  habitation." 

St.  Paul  adduces  to  the  Hebrews  the  example 
of  Moses:  for  if  the  iaith  of  Moses  merely  re- 
spected terrestrial  glory,  why  should  he  (as  the 
Jews  say)  have  cast  to  the  ground,  and  tram- 
pled on  the  crown  that  Thermutis  had  placed 
on  his  head?  Why  should  he  on  coming  to 
years,  as  says  the  ajmstlo,  have  "  refused  to  be 
called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's  daughter."  He  far- 
ther, according  to  the  same  epistle,  "  esteemed 
the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the 
treasures  of  Egypt.  Tiiis  expression  may  be 
taken  in  a  double  sense.  By  "  the  reproach  of 
Christ,"  we  may  understand  the  cross  he  so 
frequently  mculcated  on  his  disciples.  By  the 
reproach  of  Christ,  we  may  likewise  understand 


Ser.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


281 


the  bondage  which  oppressed  the  Jews  in  llie 
time  of  Moses.  The  word  Christ,  signifies 
anointed,  and  men  favoured  of  God  are  fre- 
<]uently  called  his  aiictintcd,  becduse  of  the  grace 
they  had  received;  of  which  the  liolyoil,  poured 
on  some  extraordinary  personages  by  his  com- 
mand, was  a  figure.  So  God  has  said  by  the 
psalmist,  "  Touch  not  mine  anointed,  and  do 
my  projjhets  no  harm,"  Ps.  cv.  15.  So  tiie 
prophet  Habakkuk,  "  Thou  wentest  forlli  for 
the  salvation  of  thy  people,  even  for  salvation 
with  thine  anointed,"  Hab.  iii.  13.  Which 
sense  soever  we  may  adopt,  the  alliictions  of 
Moses  prove,  according  to  St.  Paul,  "  that  he 
liad  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  re- 
ward," Heb.  xi.  26.  As  no  motive  but  the  hoi)e 
of  glory  can  induce  Christians  to  bear  tiie  re- 
proach of  Christ  their  head;  so  no  other  consi- 
deration could  have  induced  a  preference  in 
Moses,  of  the  sufferings  of  tlio  Israelites  to  the 
enjoyments  of  a  crown. 

In  short,  St.  Paul  adduces  to  the  Hebrews  a 
great  number  of  martyrs,  who  sacrificed  their 
lives  for  their  religion.  In  this  class  is  the  ve- 
nerable Eleazar;  wlio  died  under  the  strokes  of 
his  executioners,  2  Maccab.  vi.  It  is  probably 
in  allusion  to  this  case  when  the  apostle  says, 
"  they  were  tortured."  The  Greek  word  sig- 
nifies they  were  extended  in  torture;  and  it  is 
designed  to  express  the  situation  of  persons  exe- 
cuted in  this  cruel  way.  In  this  cla.ss  is  Zccha- 
riah,  who  was  slain  between  the  temple  and  the 
altar,  by  the  command  of  Joash.  To  him  tiie 
apostle  properly  alludes  when  he  says,  "  tiiey 
were  stoned."  In  this  class  is  Isaiah,  whom 
Manasseh  executed  with  a  saw,  if  we  may  credit 
an  apocryphal  book  quoted  by  Origen.  To  him 
the  apostle  probably  alludes  when  he  says, 
"  they  were  sawn  asunder."  In  this  class  were 
Micah,  John  the  Baptist,  and  St.  James,  since 
the  time  of  the  Maccabees.  In  all  probability 
the  apostle  had  them  in  view  when  he  says, 
"  they  were  slain  with  tlie  sword."  This  is 
sufficient  to  illustrate  what  St.  Paul  has  said  in 
the  chapter  preceding  our  text,  respecting  the 
faithful,  whom  he  adduces  as  models.  It  is 
evident,  that  those  illustrious  examples  were  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  make  deep  impressions  on 
the  minds  of  the  Hebrews,  and  to  animate  them 
to  sacrifice  their  lives  for  their  religion,  if  called 
to  suffer.  But  I  would  improve  the  precious 
moments  of  attention  you  may  yet  deign  to 
give,  having  destined  them  to  Investigate  the 
impression,  which  the  examples  of  those  illus- 
trious saints  nuist  naturally  make  on  our  minds, 
and  to  press  the  exhortation.  "  Wherctore, 
seeing  we  also  are  compassed  about  with  so 
great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  run  with  pa- 
tience the  race  that  is  sot  before  us." 

I  have  too  high  an  opinion  of  my  hearers,  not 
to  persuade  myself,  that  they  cannot  contem- 
plate those  illustrious  models,  without  corres- 
ponding impressions;  but  I  think  enough  has 
been  said  to  force  nn  objection  which  most  of 
you  will  make,  should  I  devote  the  rest  of  tlie 
hour  to  enforce  those  high  examples.  You  will 
Say,  they  are  fine  examjiies;  but  too  high  for 
our  imitation.  The  personages,  from  wiiom 
they  arc  derived,  were  cxtiaordiiuirv  men,  with 
whom  we  have  no  claims  of  competition.  Tfuy 
were  saints,  ice  are  .fiiinow.  Hence,  the  more 
amiable  these  examples  appear,  the  less  you 
Vol.  IL— 36 


conceive  yourselves  obligated  to  make  them  the 
model  of  your  life.  I  would  wish  to  go  to  the 
source  of  this  evil:  hence,  instead  of  confining 
my^>elf  to  an  eulogiu:ii  on  those  sacred  charac- 
ters, I  would  prove,  that  they  were  men  like 
yiiii,  in  order  that  you  shall  be  saints  like  them. 
There  is  between  them  and  you  a  similarity  of 
nature — a  similarity  of  vocation — a  similarity 
of  temptations — a  similarity  of  motives — a  si-* 
milarity  of  assistance. — The  sole  difference  be- 
tween you  is,  that  they  had  a  sincere  determi- 
nation to  prefer  their  salvation  and  duty  to 
every  other  consideration:  whereas  wo  prefer  a 
thousand  and  a  thousand  things  to  our  salvation. 
This  is  the  awful  difference  I  would  now  re- 
move, in  order  to  disclose  the  perfect  parallel 
between  you  and  those  illustrious  characters. 

I.  There  is  between  those  saints  and  you  a 
similarity  of  nature;  I  would  say,  they  had  the 
same  principles  of  natural  depravity.  There  is, 
I  grant,  much  confusion  respecting  certain  theo- 
ries which  are  termed  in  tlie  schools,  Original 
Sin.  It  has  too  often  happened,  in  opposing 
this  doctrine  to  certain  blasphemous  objections 
against  the  divine  justice,  that  they  have 
strengthened  the  objections  they  endeavoured 
to  obviate.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  extremely 
astonishing  that  there  should  be  any  divines  so 
unacquainted  with  human  nature,  as  to  deny 
our  being  all  born  with  those  principles  of  de- 
pravity. 'I'wo  considerations  will  demonstrate 
tiie  fallacy  of  tliis  notion. 

1.  Man,  circumscribed  in  knowledge,  and 
exposed  to  strong  contests,  which  cannot  be 
supported  without  a  vast  chain  of  abstract 
trullis,  is  very  liable  to  shrink  in  the  contest. 
I  say  not  that  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  it;  but 
that  he  is  very  liable  to  shrink.  It  may  be 
avoided;  because,  in  the  warmth  of  disputation, 
by  an  effort  of  genius,  he  might  possibly  turn 
his  views  to  those  arguments  which  would  en- 
sure his  triumph.  He  is,  however,  Very  liable 
to  shrink;  because  warm  debates  engross  so 
large  a  proportion  of  the  mental  capacity,  that 
it  is  difficult  for  a  man  thus  prepossessed  to  pay 
proper  attention  to  the  motives  which  would 
enable  him  to  conquer. 

2.  We  are  not  only  all  born  with  a  general 
propensity  to  vice:  but  we  are  all  likewise  bom 
witli  a  propensity  to  some  particular  vice.  Let 
a  man  pay  attention  to  children  in  the  early 
years  of  life,  and  he  will  be  convinced  of  the 
fact:  he  will  see  that  one  is  bom  with  a  pro- 
pensity to  anger,  another  to  vanity,  and  so  with 
regard  to  the  other  vices.  These  propensities 
sometimes  proceed  from  the  temperature  of  our 
bodies.  It  is  natural,  that  persons  born  with  a 
phlegmatic  constitution,  and  whose  spirits  flow 
with  difficulty,  sliould  be  inclined  to  insensi- 
bility, to  indolence,  and  eff*eminacy.  It  is  na- 
tural also  for  persons  born  with  a  guy  and  vola- 
tile temperature,  to  be  inclined  to  pleasure,  and 
anger.  But  these  dispositions  are  sometimes 
found  in  the  essence  of  the  soul.  For,  why  are 
some  men  born  jealous,  and  ambitious?  Why 
have  they  peculiar  propensities  which  have  no 
connexion  with  the  body,  if  there  be  not.  in  the 
essence  of  the  .soul,  principles  which  impel  some 
to  one,  and  some  to  another  vice? 

This  being  granted,  I  affirm,  that  there  is 
between  those  distinguished  saints,  namely, 
those  venerable  personages  enumerated  bj  St. 


282 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


[Ser.  LXXXin. 


Paul  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hubrews, — that  there  is,  between  tliem  and 
us,  "  a  similarity  of  nature."  They  liad  prin- 
ciples of  depravity  in  common  wilii  us.  The 
8ole  difference  between  them  and  iis  is,  that  tliey 
counteracted,  and  endeavoured  ti>  eradicate 
those  principles;  whereas  wc  suffer  then»  to  pre- 
dominate and  superadd  the  force  of  iiabit  to  the 
infirmity  of  nature. 

1.  That  those  distinç^uished  men  were  born 
with  an  understaiuiinjr  circumscribed  as  ours, 
requires  no  prool'.  Kceinij  they  have  resisted 
the  temptations  into  whicii  our  limited  under- 
standing has  permitted  us  to  fall;  it  evidently 
follows,  that  the  difference  between  them  and 
us  is,  that  when  the  objects  of  temptation  were 
presented,  tiiey  endeavoured  to  turn,  and  fix 
their  thoughts  on  tiie  motives  which  enabled 
them  to  triumph;  but  we  suffer  tiiose  objects 
entirely  to  engross  the  capacity  of  our  souls. 

3.  Those  distinguished  men  were  born,  as  we 
are,  with  certain  propensities  to  some  particular 
vices.  There  were  in  the  disposition  of  their 
bodies,  and  in  the  essence  of  their  souls,  as  in 
ours,  certain  seeds,  which  prompted  some  to 
one  vice,  and  some  to  another.  The  history  of 
those  saints  is  too  concise  to  state  this  truth  in 
all  its  lustre;  but  it  is  so  far  known  as  to  be  evi- 
dent to  a  certain  degree.  IMoscs  was  naturally 
of  an  uncouth  and  warm  temper;  witness  his 
remonstrances  witii  God  when  connnanded  to 
speak  to  Pharaoh:  witness  liis  indignation  wiien 
he  broke  botii  the  tables  of  the  law;  and  when 
he  struck  the  rock  twice.  David  was  burn  willi 
a  lascivious  disposition:  witness  his  intercourse 
with  Bathsheba.  He  was  born  with  a  vindic- 
tive temper:  witness  the  hasty  resolution  he 
formed  against  Nabal,  and  accompanied  with 
an  oath  so  unbecoming  a  saint.  "  So  and  more 
also  do  God  unto  the  enemies  of  David,  if  I 
leave  of  all  that  pertainetii  unto  him  by  tiie 
morning  light,  either  man  or  beast,"  1  Sam. 
XXV.  22.  What  we  have  said  of  David,  and  of 
Moses,  we  might  confirm  by  other  saints. 
Hence,  if  the  love  of  God  was  predominant,  in 
the  soul  of  those  illustrious  saints,  over  concu- 
piscence, while  concupiscence  in  us  so  fre- 
quently predominates  over  the  love  of  God: — 
if  they  "ran  witli  i)atienco  the  race  set  before 
them;"  whilst  we  are  so  frequently  iiiterrujitcd 
in  the  course: — it  was  not  becau.se  those  saints 
were  not  born  with  the  same  principles  of  de- 
pravity whicii  prompt  us  to  particular  sins,  but 
because  we  abandon  ourselves  to  those  princi- 
ples, and  make  no  efforts  to  oppose  tiiem! 
whereas  they  struggled  hard  lest  tliey  should 
commit  the  crimes,  to  which  they  were  inclined 
by  nature. 

H.  There  is  between  those  illustrious  saints 
and  us  a  smilar'ttii  of  vocation.  Docs  this  article 
require  proof.'  Can  you  be  so  little  accpiainted 
with  religion,  as  to  suppose  that  they  wire 
called  to  make  a  confiant  }»rogrcss  in  holiness, 
but  that  you  are  called  only  to  a  certain  degree 
of  virtue?  That  they  were  called  to  give  vic- 
torious effect  to  the  love  of  God  over  depravity, 
and  that  you  are  called  to  jiermit  depravity  to 
predominate  over  the  love  of  God?  Thai  they 
were  called  to  a  habit,  and  a  constant  habit  of 
piety,  but  that  God  merely  requires  y.'ui  to  do 
a  few  virtuous  actions,  to  acquire  a  temporary 
habit  of  holiness,  and  then  allows  you  to  lay  it 


aside?  Is  not  the  law  equal'  Are  not  you 
called  to  he  holy  as  they  were  holy?  Is  it  not 
said  to  you,  as  well  as  to  them,  "  Be  ye  perfect, 
as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect," 
Matt.  V.  IH.  The  abridgement  of  the  law,  and 
the  prophets, — is  il  not  of  the  same  force  with 
regard  to  you,  as  to  them,  "  Thou  shall  love 
the  Lord  thy  (iod  with  all  thy  heart,  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind?"  Matt,  x.xii.  31. 

I  am  fully  aware,  that  there  is  a  difference 
between  the  effects  of  the  love  which  God  re- 
quires of  you,  and  which  he  required  of  them: 
but  that  diversity  of  ellects  doe»  not  suppose 
any  change  in  the  etlicient  cause.  The  efficient 
cause  must  be  the  same,  how  diversified  soever 
tlie  effects  may  be:  and  if  you  are  not  called  to 
make  similar  sacrifices,  you  are  called  to  be 
ready  to  do  so,  should  they  be  required.  You 
are  not  called,  like  Abraham,  to  immolate  in 
sacrifice  to  God  your  only  son;  but  you  are 
called  to  have  the  same  radical  attachment  and 
preference,  which  induced  him  to  sacrifice  his 
son,  if  required  by  your  maker.  And  if  you 
have  not  this  profound  attachment,  or  at  least, 
if  you  do  not  daily  endeavour  to  obtain  it,  de- 
ceive not  yourselves,  my  brethren,  you  can 
have  no  hope  of  salvation.  You  are  not  call- 
ed, like  Moses,  to  sacrifice  a  crown  for  religion, 
but  you  are  called  to  have  the  same  preference 
and  esteem  for  God  which  he  had,  provided  a 
crown  were  oflered.  If  you  have  not  this  pre- 
lerence  of  affection;  at  least,  if  you  do  not  en- 
deavour to  obtain  it,  deceive  not  yourselves, 
my  brethren,  yuu  can  have  no  hopes  of  salva- 
tion. The  difference  between  those  illustrious 
saints  and  us,  is  not  in  the  variety  of  vocation 
in  which  Providence  has  called  us,  but  in  the 
manner  of  our  obedience.  They  understood 
their  vocation,  and  were  obedient;  but  we,  we 
overlook  it,  or  take  as  much  pains  to  disguise 
it,  as  they  did  to  know  it;  and  when  we  are 
constrained  to  know  it,  and  our  conscience  is 
constrained  to  discover  its  duty,  wc  violate  in 
l)ractice  those  very  ma.vims  we  have  been 
obliged  to  acknowledge  in  theory. 

111.  Human  depravity  has  not  only  innume- 
rable subtleties,  but  we  even  urge  them.  Some- 
times, in  order  to  excuse  our  deviations  from 
those  illustrious  saints,  we  allege  the  superiority 
of  their  temptations  over  those,  to  which  Pro- 
vidence has  exposed  us;  and  sometimes,  on  tlie 
roulrary,  the  superiority  of  their  temjitations 
over  those,  to  which  Heaven  exposes  us,  over 
those  to  which  it  exposed  them.  Be  it  so;  but 
after  you  have  proved  tiiat  they  did  not  resist 
any  temptation  whicii  we  would  not  have 
resisted  had  wc  been  in  their  situation;  I  will 
prove  that  we  are  not  eijiosed  to  any  such  vio- 
lent temptations  over  which  they  have  not  ob- 
tained the  same  victories  which  are  recpiired  of 
us.  What  are  the  violent  temptations  with 
which  you  arc  captivated,  and  whose  violence 
you  are  accustomed  to  allege,  in  order  to  ex- 
cuse your  falls? 

Are  they  temptations  of  poverty? — How  dif- 
ficult is  it,  when  we  want  means  to  supply  the 
pressing  calls  of  nature  not  to  bo  exercised 
with  anxiety!  How  difficult  is  it,  when  we  ex- 
pect to  jierish  with  hunger,  to  believe  ourselves 
the  favourites  of  that  Providence  which  "feeds 
the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  clothes  the  lilies  of 
the  fields,"  Matt.  vi.  26.  28.     And  when  we 


Ser.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


283 


are  stripped  of  every  comfort,  an  ordinary  con- 
Bcquence  of  poverty,  to  find  in  communion 
with  God  a  compensation  for  tliose  base  friends 
who  sufl'er  us  to  starve!  The  saints  magnified 
as  models  by  St.  Paul,  liave  vaiHjuished  this 
temptation.  See  Job,  that  iioly  man,  and  onco 
the  riciiest  man  of  all  the  East,  possessing 
seven  thousand  sheep,  three  thousand  camels, 
five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen,  and  servants  with- 
out number: — see  himstrippedofalliiis  wealth, 
and  sayinfj  in  that  deplorable  situation,  "  Shall 
wo  receive  jjood  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord  and 
shall  we  not  receive  evil?"  .loli  ii.  Id.  "The 
liord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away, 
hIcHsed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  .lob  i.  21. 
See  David  wandering  from  wilderness  to  wil- 
derness, and  saying,  "  When  my  futlier  and 
mother  forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take  me 
up,"  Ps.  xxvii.  10. 

Are  they  temptations  of  prosperity?  The 
temptations  of  prosperity  are  incomparably 
more  dangerous  than  thoso  of  adversity;  at 
least,  the  objects  of  adversity  remind  us  of  our 
indigence  and  inability;  and  removing  the  moans 
of  gratitication,  the  passions  become  eilJier  i-ub- 
dued,  or  restrained  and  mortified.  But  pros- 
perity ever  presents  us  with  a  ilattcriiig  por- 
trait of  ourselves;  it  pronijits  us  to  aspire  at 
independence,  and  strengthens  all  our  corrupt 
propensities  by  the  facility  of  gratilicatioii. — 
The  saints,  proposed  as  models  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  have  vanquished  those  temptations. — 
See  Abraham  surrounded  with  riches;  behold 
him  ever  mindful  of  that  divine  injunction, 
"  Walk  before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect,"  Gen. 
xvii.  \.  See  Job, — see  him  ever  employing 
his  wealth  for  him  from  whom  he  received  it! 
See  him  preventing  the  abuse  his  children 
might  have  made  of  his  opulence,  rising  early 
in  the  morning  after  their  feasts,  and  offering 
sacrifice  on  their  account;  "  It  may  be,"  said 
he,  "  my  sons  have  sinned,  and  cursed  God  in 
their  hearts,"  Job  i.  6.  See  David  on  the 
throne, — see  him  making  a  sacred  use  of  his 
power.  "  Mine  eyes  shall  be  upon  the  faithful 
in  the  land,  that  they  may  dwell  with  me;  he 
that  walketli  in  a  perfect  way,  he  shall  serve 
me.  I  will  early  destroy  all  the  wicked  of  the 
land,  that  I  may  cut  oft'  all  tlie  wicked  doers 
from  the  city  of  the  Lord,"  Ps.  ci.  6 — 8.  See 
him  laudably  employed  in  resuming  those  plea- 
sures of  piety  retarded  by  the  affairs  of  state. 
What  he  could  not  do  in  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
day,  he  reserved  for  the  shades  of  night.  Ho 
contemplated  the  marvels  of  his  Maker,  dis- 
played by  the  night.  Thus  he  expressed  his 
«sentiments,  "  When  I  consider  the  heavens,  the 
work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  stars,  which 
thou  hast  ordained,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art 
iniiulfiil  of  him;  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou 
visitest  him.'"  Ps.  viii.  3,  4. 

Are  they  temptations  arising  from  the  length 
of  tlie  course,  which  seems  to  have  no  end,  and 
which  always  requires  fresh  exercise  of  piety.' 
It  is  incomparably  more  easy  to  make  a  liasiy 
sacrifice  for  religion,  than  to  do  it  daily  by  de- 
grees. Virtue  is  animated  on  great  occasions, 
and  collects  the  whole  of  its  resources  and 
strength;  but  how  few  have  the  resolution  to 
sustain  a  long  career.  The  saints,  whom  St. 
Paul  adduces  as  models,  have  vanquished  this 
kind  of  temptation.     See  Moses, — behold  him  | 


for  forty  tedious  years  in  the  wilderness,  having 
to  war  with  nature  and  the  elements,  with 
iiunger  and  with  thirst,  with  his  enemies,  and 
with  his  own  peo[)le;  and,  what  was  harder 
still,  having  sometimes  to  contend  with  God 
himscdf,  who  was  frequently  on  the  point  of 
exterjiiinating  the  Israelites,  committed  to  the 
care  of  this  afflicted  leader.  But  Moses  tri- 
iiniphed  over  a  vast  course  of  difficulties;  ever 
returning  to  duty,  when  tiie  fijrce  of  tempta- 
tion, for  the  inoinent,  had  induced  him  to  devi- 
ate; ever  full  of  affection  for  that  people,  and 
ever  em])l(jyiiig  in  their  behalf,  the  influence  he 
had  over  the  bowels  of  a  compassionate  God. 

Arc  there  temptations  arising  from  persecu- 
tion?— Nature  shrinks  not  only  at  the  idea  of 
suffering,  but  also  at  the  ingenious  means  which 
oxecutiiiiiers  have  invented  to  extort  abnega- 
tions.    The  saints,  whom  St.  Paul  adduces  as 
models,  have  van()uisli(!(l  this  class  of  tempta- 
tions.   Look  only  at  the  conduct  of  tliose  noble 
martyrs,  to  w'hom  he  is  desirous  of  calling  the 
attention  of  the  Hebrews.     Look  at  the  tragic 
but  instructive  history  of  that  family,  mention- 
ed in  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  second  Book 
of  Maccabees.     The  barbarous  Antioch,  says 
the  historian,  seized  on  a  mother  and  her  seven 
sons,  and  resolved,  by  whips  and  scourges,  to 
force  them  to  eat  swine's  flesh.     The  eldest  of 
the  seven  boldly  asserted  his  readiness  to  die 
for  his  religion.      Tlie  king,  enraged  with  an- 
ger,  commanded    the   iron-pans,   and   brazen 
chaldrons,  to  be  healed,  and   him  who    first 
spake  to  be  flayed  alive;  his  tongue  cut  out; 
the  extremities  of  his  limbs  to  be  cut  ofT,  in 
presence  of  his  mother  and  brethren;  and  his 
body  to  be  roasted  while  yet  alive,  in  one  of 
the  burning  pans.     O  my  God!  what  a  sight 
for  the  persons  so  tenderly  united  to  this  mar- 
tyr!   But  this  scene,  very  far  from  shaking  their 
constancy,  contributed  to  its  support.     They 
animated  one  another  to  an  heroic  death;  af- 
firming that  God  would  sustain  their  minds,  and 
assuage  their  anguish.     The  second  of  those 
brothers,  the  third,  the  fourth,  the  fifth,  and 
sixth,  sustained  the  .same  sufferings,  and  with 
the  same  support,  in  presence  of  their  motlier. 
What  idea  do  you  form  of  this  woman,  you 
timorous  mothers,   who  hear  me  to-day?    In 
what  language,  think  you,  did  she  address  her 
sons?     Do   you   think  that  nature  triumphed 
over  grace;  that,  after  having  otTered  to  God 
six  of  her  sons,  she  made  efforts,  at  least  to 
save  the  seventh,  that  he  might  afford  her  con- 
solation for  the  loss  sustained  in  the  other  si.x.' 
No,  says  the  historian,  she  exhorted  him  to  die 
like  a  martyr:  Antioch  compelled  her  to  pre- 
sent the  seventh  that  she  might  prevent  his 
death.     But  she  said,  "O  my  son,  have  pity 
upon  me,  that  bare  thee  nine  months  in  my 
womb,  and  gave  thee  suck  three  years,  and 
nourished  thee,  and  brought  thee  up  unto  this 
age,  and  endured  the  troubles  of  education.     I 
beseech  thee,  my  .son,  look  upon  the  heaven 
and  the  earth,  and  all  that  is  therein,  and  know 
the  author  of  thy  being.     Fear  not  this  tor- 
mentor;   but,  being  worthy  of  thy  brethren, 
take  thy  death,  that  I  may  receive  thee  again, 
in  mercy  with  thy  bretJiren." 

Perhaps  the  liistorian  has  embellished  his 
heroes;  perhaps  he  has  been  more  ambitious  to 
astonish  than  to  instruct;  and  to  flatter  the  por- 


284 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


[Ser.  Lxxxm. 


trait,  than  to  paint  the  original.  Tho  history 
of  our  own  age  confirms  the  past  age;  the  his- 
torj'  of  our  own  tyranls,  substantiates  all  that 
is  said  of  liie  Jcwisit  tyrants:  and  the  constancy 
of  our  modern  Maccabees,  is  a  sure  test  of 
what  is  said  concerning  tiie  constancy  of  the 
ancient  Maccabees.  What  has  been  the  seed 
of  the  reformed  ciiurch?  It  is  the  blood  of  the 
reformers,  and  of  tiie  first  reformed.  Wliat 
was  the  rise  of  this  republic?  It  was  the  light 
of  fagots  kindled  to  consume  it.  Inhabitants 
of  these  provinces,  w  hat  were  your  ancestors.' 
Confessors  and  martyrs.  And  you,  my  dear 
fellow-countrymen,  wlience  are  you  come? 
"Out  of  great  tribulation."  What  are  you? 
"  Brands  plucked  from  the  burning."  Fathers, 
who  have  seen  their  cliildron  die  for  religion; 
children  who  have  seen  tiieir  fathers  die  for  re- 
ligion. O  that  God  may  forbear  hearkening 
to  the  voice  of  so  much  blood,  which  cries  to 
rieaven  for  vengeance  on  those  who  shed  it! 
May  God,  in  placing  llie  crown  of  righteous- 
ness on  the  heads  of  liiose  wiio  suffered,  pardon 
those  who  caused  their  deatli!  May  we  be,  at 
least,  permitted  to  recount  the  history  of  our 
brethren,  who  have  conquered  in  the  fight;  to 
encourage  those  who  have  yet  to  combat,  but 
who  so  disgracefully  draw  back.  Ah!  genera- 
tion of  confessors  and  martyrs,  would  you  de- 
grade the  nobility  of  your  descent'  Your  fa- 
thers have  confessed  their  religion  amid  the  se- 
verest tortures:  and  would  you  deny  in  these 
happy  provinces,  enlightened  by  the  trutii? 
Have  they  sacrificed  their  lives  for  religion, 
and  will  you  refuse  to  sacrifice  a  portion  of 
your  riches?  Ah,  my  bretiiren,  "  Seeing  we 
also  are  compassed  about  witli  so  great  a  cloud 
of  witnesses,  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us." 

IV.  I  have  said  that  there  is,  between  us 
and  those  illustrious  saints,  proposed  as  models 
by  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  s'unilarity  of  motives.     It 
implies  a  contradiction,  to  suppose  that  tiiey  had 
more  powerful  motives  to  animate  tliem  in  their 
course,  ti)an  tliose  we  have  proposed  to  you. 
Yes,  it  implies  a  contradiction,  that  the  Abra- 
hams, quitting  their  coinilry,  the  land  of  their 
nativity,  and  wandering  tliey  knew  not  where, 
in  obedience  to  tiie  divine  call: — it  implies  a 
contradiction,  tiiat  the  Moseses  preferred  "  af- 
fliction with  tlie  peo|)le  of  God,  to  the  pleasures 
of  sin,  which  arc  but  fur  a  season:" — it  implies 
a  contradiction,  that  tiiis  multitude  of  martyrs, 
some  of  whom   were  tormented,  olliers  were 
stoned,  others  were  sawn  asunder,  otiicrs  were 
killed  by  tlie  sword: — it  implies  a  contradiction, 
that  those  illustrious  saints  have  beheld,  at  the 
close  of  their  course,  a  more  valuable  prize  than 
that  extended  to  you.     This  prize  is  a  blissfi»! 
immortality.     Here  the  whole  advantage  is  on 
your  side.     This  prize  is  jilaced  more  distinctly 
in  your  sight,  than  it  was  in  liie  view  of  those 
illustrious  characters.     This,    1    really   think, 
wa-s  Si.  Paul's  view  at  the  close  of  the  chapter, 
in  which  lie  enumerates  tiic  saints,  whose  vir- 
tues have   formed  tiie   leading  subject  of  tiiis 
discourse.    "  Tli(>s(!  all,  having  obtained  a  good 
report  through  faith,  rcceiv(!d  not  tho  promise; 
God  having  ijfovided  some  better  things  for  us, 
that  they,  without  us,  sliould  not  bo  made  per- 
fect."    VVhat  is  implied  in  their  "  not  having 
received  the  promise'"    Does  it  mean  that  thoy 


did  not  know  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state? 
St.  Paul  affirms  quite  the  contrary.  What  is 
meant  by  their  "  not  being  made  perfect  with- 
out us?"  Is  it  as  some  of  the  primitive  fa- 
thers, and  as  some  of  our  modern  divines  have 
thought,  that  the  Old  Testament  saints  were 
not  received  into  heaven  till  the  ascension  of 
Jesus  Christ'  This  is  contrary  to  other  pas- 
sages of  our  Scriptures.  But  "they  received 
not  the  promise,"  that  is  to  say,  with  the  same 
clearness  as  Christians.  "  They  without  us 
were  not  made  perfect;"  the  perfect  knowledge 
of  immortality  and  life  being  the  peculiar  pre- 
rogative of  the  Christian  church.  Whatever 
be  the  sense  of  those  words  of  St.  Paul,  we 
will  show,  that  this  doctrine  of  immortality  and 
life  is  no  longer  covered  with  a  veil,  as  it  was 
previously  to  the  introduction  of  the  gospel; 
but  it  is  demonstrated  by  a  multitude  of  argu- 
ments which  sound  reason,  though  less  im- 
proved than  that  of  the  ancients,  enables  us  to 
adduce  for  conviction;  and  they  are  placed  in 
evidence  by  Jesus  Christ.  Let  us  introduce 
this  Jesus  to  you;  let  us  cause  you  to  hear  this 
Jesus  animating  you  by  doctrine  and  example 
in  the  course;  "  Him  that  overcometh,"  says 
he,  "  will  I  grant  to  sit  down  with  me  on 
my  throne,  even  as  I  also  overcame,  and  am 
set  down  with  my  Father  on  his  throne," 
Rev.  iii.  21. 

V.  The  last  article, — happily  adapted  to 
silence  those  who  avail  themselves  of  the  dis- 
tinguished virtues  of  those  saints  for  not  ac- 
cepting them  as  models;  or,  to  conclude  in  a 
manner  more  correspondent  to  our  ministry, 
an  article  well  calculated  to  support  us  in  the 
race  God  has  set  before  all  his  saints — is,  that 
between  us  and  those  who  have  finished  it  with 
joy,  there  is  asimilarity  of  assistance.  By  nature 
they  were  like  us,  incapable  of  running  the 
race;  and  by  the  assistance  of  grace  we  become 
capable  of  running  like  them.  Let  us  not  im- 
agine that  we  honour  the  deity  by  making  a 
certain  sort  of  absurd  complaints  concerning 
our  weakness;  let  us  not  ascribe  to  him  what 
proceeds  solely  from  our  corruption:  it  is  in- 
compatible with  his  perfections  to  e.xpose  a  frail 
creature  to  the  force  of  temptation,  and  e.xhort 
him  to  conquer  it  without  aifording  the  aid  » 

requisite  to  obtain  the  victory.     Be  not  dis-         T" 
couraged.  Christian  champion,  at  the  inequality  ' 

God  has  made  in  the  proportion  of  aids  afford- 
ed to  them,  and  to  thee;  be  not  discouraged 
on  seeing  thyself  led  by  the  plain  paths  of  na- 
ture, while  nature  was  inverted  for  them;  while 
they  walked  in  the  depth  of  the  sea;  while  they 
"  threw  down  the  walls  of  Jericho  by  the  sound 
of  rams'-horns,  shut  the  mouths  of  lions, 
quenched  the  violence  of  the  fire,  escaped  the 
edge  of  the  sword,  waxing  valiant  in  fight, 
and  turning  to  fight  the  armies  of  the  aliens." 
We  might  perform  all  those  prodigies,  and  not 
obtain  salvation.  Yes,  we  might  put  to  flight 
tlie  armies  of  the  aliens,  display  invincible 
yalour  in  the  warfare,  escape  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  quench  the  violence  of  tho  fire,  stop  the 
mouths  of  lions,  overturn  walls,  force  a  passage 
through  tho  sea,  and  yet  be  numbered  with 
those  to  whom  Christ  will  say,  "  I  know  you 
not."  And  dost  thou  fear,  Christian  combat- 
ant, dost  thou  fear  to  attain  salvation  without 
those  miraculous  aids?  The  requisite  assistanco 


Ser.  LXXXIII.]  on  the  example  of  the  SAINt-S. 

for  thy  salvation  is  promised.  "  The  fountain 
is  open  to  the  whole  house  of  David,"  Zecli. 
xiii.  1.     "Sock,  and  ye  shall  find;  ask,  and 

Ï0U  shall  reccivu;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened. 
f  you,  bcin^  evil,  know  how  to  jfive  good 
things  unto  your  children,  how  much  more 
shall  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  give  his 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him?  If  any  of 
you  lack  wisdom  let  him  ask  of  Ood  tliat  givctli 
to  all  men  liberally,  and  upi)raidetii  not." 

O!  if  we  knew  the  value  of  wisdom!  If  we 
knew  what  miracles  of  virtue  can  he  wrought 
by  a  soul  actuated  by  the  Holy  Spirit!  If  we 
know  how  to  avail  ourselves  of  this  promise! 
Let  us,  my  dear  brethren,  avail  ourselves  of  it. 
Let  us  ask  of  God  those  aids,  not  to  Hatter  our 
indolence  and  vice,  but  to  strengthen  us  in  all 
our  conflicts.  Let  us  say,  "  Lord,  teach  my 
hands  to  war,  and  my  lingers  to  fight,"  Ps. 
cxliv.  Seeing  so  many  enemies  combine  to 
detach  us  from  his  favour,  let  us  thus  invite 
him  to  our  aid.  "  Let  God  arise,  let  his  ene- 
mies be  scattered,  let  them  also  that  hate  him, 
flee  before  him."  Let  us  pour  into  his  bosom 
all  those  anxieties,  which  enfeeble  the  mind. 
Then  he  will  reply,  "  My  grace  is  sulHcicnt  for 
thee,  my  strength  shall  be  made  perfect  in  thy 
weakness."  Then  shall  all  the  enemies  of  our 
salvation  fly,  and  be  confounded  before  us. 
Then  shall  all  the  difticulties,  which  discourage 
us  by  the  way,  disappear.  Then  shall  we  ex- 
claim in  the  midst  of  conflicts,  "  Blessed  be 
God,  who  always  causeth  us  to  triumph  in 
Christ."  Amen.  To  hini  be  honour  and  glory 
for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON   LXXXIII. 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 

PART  II. 


Hebrews  xii.  L 
Wherefore,  seeing  ire  also  are  compassed  about 
with  so  great  a  cloud  of  xritnesses,  let  us  lay 
aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  trhich  doth  so 
easily  beset  lis,  and  let  its  run  icith  patience  the 
race  that  is  set  before  its. 
We  proceed  this  day,  my  brethren,  to  show 
you  the  way  which  leads  to  the  end  proposed 
in  our  two  preceding  discourses.  The  words 
we  have  now  read  for  the  third  time,  placed 
throe  things  before  your  view, — distinguished 
duties, — excellent  models, — and  wise  precau- 
tions. The  distinguished  duties  are  illustrated 
in  the  perseverance  we  pressed  in  our  first  dis- 
course. The  excellent  models  are  the  saints 
of  the  highest  order,  and,  in  particular,  the 
"  cloud  of  witnesses  with  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded." Of  these,  St.  Paul  has  made  an 
enumeration  and  eulogium  in  the  chapter  pre- 
ceding that  from  which  our  text  is  read;  and 
whose  virtues  we  have  traced  in  our  l;ist  dis- 
course. But,  by  what  means  may  we  attain 
an  end  so  noble?  By  what  means  may  we 
discharge  duties  so  distinguished,  and  form  our- 
selves on  models  so  excellent'  This  shall  be 
the  inquiry  in  our  present  discourse.  It  is  by 
*'  laying  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which 
doth  so  easily  beset  us. — Wherefore,  seeing  we 
also  are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud 


285 

of  witnes.sc8,  let  us  lay  aside  every  weight,  and 
the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and  let 
us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  be- 
fore UK." 

Enter,  my  brethren,  on  the  consideration  of 
this  sui)ject  with  that  sacred  dilHdence,  with 
which  frail  creatures  should  be  actuated  on 
contemplating  the  difiiculties  with  which  our 
course  is  strewed;  but  enter  with  all  the  mag- 
nanimity with  which  an  idea  of  the  powerful 
and  promised  aids  should  inspire  the  mind  of  a 
Ciiristian.  Be  impressed  witii  tiiis  thought, 
and  we  conjure  you  to  keep  it  constantly  in 
view  during  this  discourse:  that  there  is  no  way 
of  running  the  race  like  those  illustrious  cha- 
racters adduced  as  models,  but  by  endeavouring 
to  ecpial  them  in  holiness;  and  that  there  is  no 
way  of  e(iualling  them  in  holines.s,  but  by 
adopting  the  precautions  of  which  they  availed 
themselves  to  attain  perfection.  Happy  those 
of  you,  my  brethren,  infinitely  more  happy 
than  the  tongue  of  mortals  can  express,  happy 
those  whom  this  consideration  shall  save  from 
that  wretched  state  of  indolence  into  which  the 
greatest  part  of  men  are  plunged,  and  whom 
it  shall  excite  to  that  vigilance  and  energy  of  ■ 
life,  which  is  the  great  design  of  Christianity, 
and  the  grand  characteristic  of  a  christian! 
Amen. 

We  shall  now  illustrate  the  expressions  in 
our  text  by  a  few  remarks. 

The  first  is,  that  they  are  figurative.  St. 
Paul  represents  our  Christian  vocation  by  the 
idea  of  those  races,  so  ancient  and  celebrated 
among  the  heathen:  and  pursuing  the  same 
thought,  he  represents  the  precautions  used  by 
athletics  to  obtain  the  prize,  as  those  which  we 
must  use  in  order  to  be  crowned.  The  tceights 
of  flowing  robes,  such  as  were  once,  and  such 
as  are  still  worn  by  oriental  nations,  would 
very  much  encumber  those  who  ran  in  the 
course.  Just  so,  inoidinate  cares,  I  would  say, 
cares  concerning  temporal  things,  and  criminal 
purposes,  exceedingly  encumber  those  who 
enter  on  the  course  of  salvation.  I  not  only 
allude  to  criminal  purposes  (for  who  can  be  so 
ignorant  of  religion  as  to  deny  it,)  but  also  to 
excessive  cares.  St.  Paul,  in  my  opinion, 
had  this  double  view.  He  requires  us  not  only 
to  lay  sin  aside,  but  every  weight;  that  is,  all 
those  secular  aftairs  unconnected  with  our  pro- 
fession. In  St.  Paul's  view,  these  affairs  are 
to  the  Christian,  what  the  flowing  robes  would 
have  been  to  the  athletics  of  whom  we  spake. 
How  instructive  is  this  idea!  How  admirably 
calculated,  if  seriously  considered,  to  rectify  our 
notions  of  morality!  I  do  not  wish  to  make 
the  Christian  to  become  an  anchoret.  I  do  not 
wish  to  degrade  those  useful  men,  whom  God 
seems  to  have  formed  to  be  the  soul  of  society; 
and  of  whom  we  may  say  in  the  political  world, 
as  St.  Paul  has  said  in  the  ecclesiastical,  "  I  am 
debtor  both  to  the  Greeks  and  to  the  Barbari- 
ans," Rom.  i.  14.  "  Besides  those  things  that 
are  without,  that  which  cometh  upon  me  daily, 
the  care  of  all  the  churches,"  2  Cor.  xi.  2S. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  often  deceive  our- 
selves with  regard  to  what  is  called  in  the 
world — business!  Take  an  example  of  a  man 
born  with  all  the  uprightness  of  mind  compati- 
ble with  the  loss  of  primitive  innocence.  While 
left  to  the  reflection  of  his  own  mind  in  early 


286 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


[Ser.  Lxxxra. 


life,  he  followed  the  dictates  of  reason,  and  the 
sentiinrnta  of  virtue.  His  mind,  undisturbed 
with  the  anxieties  inseparable  f/oin  tlie  man- 
agement of  a  large  fortune,  apjjlied  almost 
wholly  to  the  study  of  truth,  and  tlio  practice 
of  virtue.  But  some  olllcious  friends,  a  ])roud 
and  avaricious  family,  the  roots  of  vanity,  and 
love  of  e.xterior  grandeur,  scarcely  ever  eradi- 
cated, have  induced  him  to  pusii  liis  fortune, 
and  distinguish  himself  in  the  world.  He  as- 
pires to  civil  employment.  The  solicitations 
to  which  he  must  descend,  the  intrigues  he 
must  manage,  the  friends  with  whom  he  must 
temporize  to  obtain  it,  have  suspended  his  first 
habits  of  life.  He  accomplishes  the  object  of 
his  wishes.  The  office  with  which  he  is  in- 
vested, requires  application.  Distraction  be- 
comes an  indispensable  duty.  The  corruption 
of  his  heart,  butsliglitly  extinguislied,  rekindles 
by  so  much  dissi])ation.  After  having  been 
some  time  without  the  study  of  truths,  once 
his  favourite  concern,  he  becomes  habituated 
not  to  think  of  them  at  all.  He  loses  his  re- 
collection of  them.  He  becomes  exhausted  in 
the  professional  duties  he  has  acquired  with  so 
much  solicitude.  He  must  have  a  temporary 
recess  from  business.  The  study  of  truth,  and 
the  practice  of  viij.ue,  should  now  be  resumed. 
But  he  must  have  a  little  recreation,  a  little 
company,  a  little  wine.  Meanwhile  age  ap- 
proaches, and  death  is  far  advanced.  But, 
when  is  he  to  enter  on  the  work  of  salvation? 
Happy  he,  my  brethren,  who  seeks  no  rela- 
tions in  life,  than  those  to  which  he  is  called 
by  duty!  Happy  he,  who  in  retirement,  and 
if  you  please,  in  the  obscurity  of  mediocrity, 
far  from  grandeur  and  from  courts,  makes  sal- 
vation if  not  his  sole,  at  least  his  princi|)al  con- 
cern. Excessive  cares,  as  much  as  criminal 
pursuits,  are  weights  which  retard  exceedingly 
the  Christian  in  his  course.  "  Let  us  lay  aside 
every  weight  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily 
beset  us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  tiie  race 
that  is  set  before  us."  This^s  St.  Paul's  idea 
in  the  words  of  my  text:  and  it  is  the  first  re- 
mark requisite  for  its  illustration. 

The  second  devolves  on  the  peculiar  situa- 
tion in  which  the  Hebrews  were  placed,  to 
whom  the  advice  is  given.  Tiiesc  Hebrews, 
like  ourselves,  were  Christians.  They  were 
called,  as  wc  are  called,  to  run  the  race  of  vir- 
tue, without  which  no  man  can  obtain  the 
prize  promised  by  the  gosjiel.  in  this  view, 
they  required  the  same  instructions  which  are 
requisite  with  regard  to  ourselves. 

But  the  Christians,  to  whom  this  epistle  wjis 
addressed,  lived,  as  was  observed  in  our  first 
discourse,  in  an  age  of  persecution.  They 
were  daily  on  tiie  eve  of  martyrdom.  It  was 
for  this  that  the  apostle  prepares  them  through- 
out the  whole  of  this  epistle.  To  this  he  espe- 
cially disposes  them  in  the  words  which  innne- 
diately  follow  those  I  have  discussed.  "  Con- 
sider diligently,"  says  he,  adducing  tiie  author 
and  finisher  of  our  faith,  who  so  nobly  ran  the 
career  of  martyrdom;  "  Consider  diligently  him 
that  endured  such  contradiction  of  siimers 
against  himself,  lest  ye  be  weary  and  faint  in 
your  minds.  Ye  have  not  yet  resisted  unto 
blood,  striving  against  sin,"  Hub.  xii.  3,  4. 
What  does  he  mean  by  tlu.'ir  not  having  yet 
resisted  unto  blood?     Here  is  still  a  reference 


to  the  games  of  the  heathen:  not  indeed  to  the 
sports  of  the  course,  as  in  the  words  of  my 
text,  but  to  the  cest,*  in  which  the  wrestlers 
sometimes  received  a  mortal  blow.  And  this 
idea  necessarily  includes  that  of  martyrdom. 
But,  O!  how  evasive  is  the  llesh,  when  placed 
in  those  critical  circumstances!  What  excuses 
will  it  not  make  rather  than  acquiesce  in  the 
proposition!  Must /die  for  religion?  Must/ 
be  stretched  on  the  rack?  Must  /  be  hung  in 
chains  on  a  gibbet'  Must  /  mount  a  pile  of 
fagots?  St.  Paul  has  therefore  doubled  the  idea 
in  my  text.  He  was  desirous  to  strengthen  the 
Hebrews  with  a  twofold  class  of  arguments:  viz. 
those  required  against  the  temptations  common 
to  all  Christians;  and  those  peculiar  to  the  af- 
flictive circumstances  in  whici»  they  were  placed 
by  Providence.  It  was  proper  to  press  this 
double  idea.  This  is  our  second  remark  for  the 
illustration  of  our  text. 

The  third  turns  on  the  progress  the  Hebrews 
had  already  made  in  the  Christian  religion. 
The  nature  of  this  progress  determines  farther 
the  very  character  of  the  advice  required,  and 
the  precise  meaning  of  those  expressions, 
"  Laying  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  that 
doth  so  easily  beset  us."  We  never  give  to  a 
man  who  has  already  made  a  proficiency  in  an 
art  or  science,  the  instructions  wc  would  give 
to  a  pupil.  Wc  never  warn  a  mariner,  who 
has  traversed  the  seas  for  many  years,  not  to 
strike  against  a  rock  which  lifts  its  summit  to 
the  clouds,  and  is  perceived  by  all  who  have 
eyes.  We  never  caution  a  soldier,  blanched 
in  the  service,  not  to  be  surprised  by  ma- 
nœuvres of  an  enemy,  which  might  deceive 
those  who  are  entering  on  the  first  campaign. 
There  were  men  among  the  Hebrews  to  whom 
the  apostle  wrote,  who,  according  to  his  own 
remark,  had  need  to  be  taught  again  "  the 
principles  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ:"  that  is, 
the  first  elements  of  Christianity.  We  find 
many  among  the  catechumens,  who,  according 
to  an  expression  he  uses,  had  need  of  milk,  and 
were  unable  to  digest  strong  meat,  Heb.  v.  12. 
But  we  ought  not  to  conceive  the  same  idea 
of  all  the  Hebrews.  The  progress  many  of 
them  had  made  in  religion,  superseded,  with 
regard  to  them,  the  instructions  we  might  give 
to  those  entering  on  the  course.  1  cannot 
think,  that  those  Hebrews,  who  in  former  days 
had  been  enlightened; — those  Hebrews,  who 
had  "  endured  a  great  fight  of  afflictions;" — 
those  Hebrews,  who,  according  to  the  force  of 
the  Greek  term,  used  in  the  tenth  chapter  of 
this  epistle,  "  had  been  exposed  on  the  theatre 
of  the  world,  by  affliction  and  by  becoming  a 
gazing-stock; — those  Hebrews,  "  who  had  ta- 
ken joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,"  Heb. 
xi.  33,  3  1; — I  caimot  think  that  they  had  need 
of  precautions  against  the  gross  temptations, 
by  which  Satan  seduces  those  who  have  only 
an  external  acquaintance  with  Christianity. 
The  principal  design  of  the  apostle,  in  the 
words  of  my  text,  is,  to  fortify  them  against 
those  subtle  snares,  and  plausible  pretences, 
which  sometimes  induced  Christians  to  relapse, 
who  seemed  the  most  established.     These  are 

*  The  Ce»lU8  was  a  Mfcre  mode  of  fightine,  in  which 
tlir  |>ui;ilisU  were  arini;J  «ilhcr  with  a  cudgel,  or  with  a 
hM  of  lead  sewed  in  leather.  See  Virgil's  JEatiait, 
Book  V. 


See.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


287 


the  kind  of  snares,  those  are  the  kind  of  so-  I  It  was  a  society  to  whicli  kings  were  to  be  the 


phisms,  the  apostle  apparently  liad  in  view, 
when  he  speaks  of  "  weights,  and  the  sin  that 
doth  so  easily  beset  us." 

Thanks  be  to  (iod,  my  dear  brethren,  that 
though  we  are  right,  on  the  one  hand,  in  say- 
ing that  some  among  you,  "  have  need  to  be 
taught  again  the  first  j)rinciples  of  tlic  doctrine 
of  Christ;  and  arc  become  such  as  liave  need 
of  milk,  and  not  of  strong  meat,"  Ileb.  v.  12; 
thanks  be  to  God,  that  you  atl'ord  us,  on  the 
other  hand,  the   consolation    granted    to  our 
apostle,  of  seeing  among  you  cultivated  minds, 
geniuses  conversant  with  the  sul)limc  myste- 
ries  of   Christianity,   and    witli    the    severest 
maxims  of  morality.     Ilcnce  I  should  deem  it 
an  injustice  to  your  discernment  and  know- 
ledge, if,  in  the  instructions  1  may  give  to-day, 
whether  for  the  period   of  persecution,  or  for 
the  ordinary  conduct  of  life,  I  should  enlarge 
on  those  truths  which  pro|)erly  belong  to  young 
converts.  What?  in  a  church  cherished  by  God 
in  so  dear  a  manner:  what!  in  a  church  which 
enjoys  a  ministry  like  yours,  is  it  necessary  to 
affirm,  that  people  are  unworthy  of  the  Chris- 
tian name,  when,  during  the  period  of  i)crse- 
cution,  they  anlici|)ate,    if  I    may  so   speak, 
every  wish  of  the  persecutors,  when  they  carry 
in  their  bosoms,  formularies  wliicli  abjure  their 
religion;  when  they  attend  all  the  services  of 
superstition;  when  they  enjoy,  in  consequence 
of  their  apostacy,  not  only  their  own  property, 
but  the  property  of  those  "  who  have  gone 
with  .Jesus  Christ  without  tlie  camp,  bearing 
his  reproach?"    What!    in  a  church  like  this, 
would  it.be  requisite  to  preach,  that  men  are 
unworthy  of  the  Christian  name,  who,  in  the 
time  of  ecclesiastical  repose,  deliberately  live 
in  habits  of  fornication  and  adultery;  who,  in 
the   face  of  heaven   and   earth,  entice  their 
neighbour's  wife,  who  wallow  in  wickedness, 
who  are  ever  disposed  either  to  give  or  to  re- 
ceive "  the  wages  of  unrighteousness?"  Oh!  my 
very  dear  brethren,  these  are  not  plausible  pre- 
tences;  these  are  not  subtle  snares;  they  are 
the  sensible  sophisms,  the  broad  snares  which 
deceive  those  only  who  are  resolved  to  be  de- 
ceived.     There   are,  however,  subtle   snares, 
which  deceive  the  most  estaldisiied  Christians. 
To  these  the  apostle  has  immediate  reference 
when  he  exhorts  us  to  "  lay  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  that  does  so  easily  beset  us."     On 
this  shall  turn  chiefly  the  explication  we  shall 
give  of  the  terms.     What  are  those  peculiar 
kinds  of  temptation.s?     What  are  the  precau- 
tions we  must  take  to  resist  them?     Tlicse  are 
the  two  leading  subjects  of  tiiis  discourse;  to 
these  subjects  1  will  venture  to  solicit  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  attention  with  which  you  have 
designed  to  favour  me. 

I.  Let  us  begin  with  the  temptations,  to 
which  we  are  exposed  in  the  time  of  ecclesi- 
astical tribulation. 

1.'  The  devil  would  sometimes  inspire  us 
with  sentiments  of  unbelief  respecting  the  truth 
of  the  promises  God  has  given  the  church.    It 


nursing-fathers,  and   queens  the  nursing-mo- 
thers.    It  is  a  society,  whose  prosperity  should 
have  no  end,  which  should  realize  this  predic- 
tion: "  Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the  heavens,  and 
look  upon  the  earth  beneath:  for  the  heavens 
shall  vanish  aw.ay  like  smoke,  and  the  earth 
shall  wax  old  like  a  garment;  but  my  salva- 
tion shall  be  for  ever,  and  my  righteousness 
shall  ncjt  be  abolished,"  Isa.  li.  C.     It  is  a  so- 
ciety, whose  prosperity  made  the  prophets  ex- 
claim, "  Break  forth   into  joy;    sing  together 
ye  waste  places  of  Jeru.salem:    for  the  Lord 
hath  comforted  his  i)eople,  he  hath  redeemed 
Jeru.salem.  The  Lord  lialli  made  bare  his  holy 
arm  in  the  eyes  of  all  nations,  and  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth  shall  see  the  salvation  of  our  God," 
Isa.  lii.  9,  10.     To  say  all  in  one  word,  it  is  a 
society  built  upon  the  rock,  and  of  which  Je- 
sus Christ  has  said,  "  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  it,"  Matt.  xvi.  18.     What 
is  the  conformity  between  these  promises  and 
the  event!    or  if  you  please,  what  likeness  is 
there  between  the  portrait  and  the  original! 
Does  not  hell  prevail  against  the  church,  when 
her  enemies  exile  her  pastors,  scatter  her  flock, 
sui)press  her  worship,  and   burn  her  sanctua- 
ries?    Do  all  nations  see  the  salvation  of  God, 
the  arm  of  tiie  Lord  made  bare,  to  effectuate 
distinguished  events  in  behalf  of  this  society; 
when  the}  are  given  up  to  the  fury  of  their 
tyrants;  when  Pilate  and  Herod  are  confede- 
rated to  destroy  them;  when  they  obtain  over 
them  daily  new  victories?   Do  the  waste  places 
of  Jerusalem  sing,  when   the  waj's   of  Zion 
mourn,  "when  her  priests  sigh,"  and   when 
"  her  virgins  are  atHicted?"  Does  her  salvation 
remain  for  ever,  when  the  church  has  scarcely 
breathed   in  one  place,  before  she  is  agitated 
in  another;    when  she  has  scarcely  survived 
one  calamity,  before  she  is  overtaken  with  ano- 
ther; wiien  the  beast  causes  all,  both  small  and 
great,  rich  and  j)oor,  bond  and  free,  to  receive 
his  mark  in  their  hand,  or  in  their  forehead.' 
Rev.  xiii.  16.  Are  kings  nursing-fathers  to  tho 
church,   and  queens    nursing-mothers,    when 
they  snatch  the  children  from  her  breasts;  when 
they  populate  the  deserts  with  fugitives;  and 
cause  the  dead  bodies  of  her  witnesses  to  lie 
in  the  streets  of  the  great  city,  which  is  called 
Sodom  and  Egypt'  llev.  xi.  8. 

It  is  against  this  first  device  of  Satan,  St, 
Paul  would  fortify  the  Hebrews  in  the  words 
of  my  text.  Hear  his  admonitions  and  instruc- 
tions; have  you  forgotten  the  exhortation 
which  speaketh  unto  you  as  unto  children;  my 
son,  despise  not  tliou  the  chastemng  of  the 
Lord,  nor  faint  wh»n  thou  art  rebuked  a(  him? 
For  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and 
scourgeth  every  so.i  whom  he  receiveth.  If  ye 
endure  chastening,  God  dealelh  with  you  as 
with  sons;  for  whtt  son  is  he,  whom  the  Fa- 
ther chasteneth  not'  But  if  ye  be  without 
chastisement,  whereof  all  are  partakers,  then 
are  ye  bastards  and  not  sons,"  Heb.  xii.  5 — 8. 
I  have  no  neec  to  arm  you  with  any  other 


seems  a  difficult  task,  to  reconcile  tlie  magniti-  shield  against  the  sentiments  of  unbelief,  with 
cenco  of  those  promises  with  the  deluge  of  ca-  which  some  of  you  are  assailed  on  viewing  the 
lamities  which  have  inundated  it  in  periods  of  calamities  of  the  church.  Ecclesiastical  per- 
persecution.  What  is  this  church,  according  {  seculions  are  paternal  chastisements,  which 
to  the  prophets?  It  is  a  society,  which  was  to  God  inflicts  upon  her  members.  I  would  ask 
be  completely  irradiated  with  the  glory  of  God.  I  our  brethren,  wlw  complain  of  the  length  of 


288 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


[Ser.  LXXXIII, 


the  persecution,  and  are  ever  sayinrr,  Alas! 
what,  always  in  exile,  always  in  the  galleys?  I 
Would  ask  them,  as  they  seem  astonished,  and 
are  bold  enough  to  coinphiin  of  their  dura- 
tion, whether  they  have  profited  by  these  af- 
flictions? God,  in  chastising  tiic  church,  is  de- 
sirous of  correcting  tiie  abuse  you  have  made 
of  prosperity.  Have  you  profited  by  this  chiis- 
tisemcrit'  llave  you  learned  to  make  a  riglit 
use  of  prosperity?  God,  in  chastising  the  cliurch, 
is  desirous  to  correct  the  indifférence  you  have 
entertained  for  public  worship.  Have  you  pro- 
fited by  this  chastisement'  Have  you  learned 
to  sacrifice  your  dearest  interests  to  attend  his 
worship?  And  if  you  have. made  those  sacri- 
fices, have  you  learned  to  worship  with  affec- 
tions correspondent  to  the  sacrifices  you  have 
made  for  him?  God,  in  chastising  tiie  churcii, 
is  desirous  to  correct  the  strong  attaclitnent 
you  have  conceived  for  tliis  world.  Have  you 
profited  by  this  chastisement?  Called  to  choose 
between  riches  and  salvation,  have  you  ever 
preferred  tlie  salvation  of  your  souls,  to  exte- 
rior happiness? 

2.  In  the  time  of  tribulation,  the  devil 
strongly  prompts  us  to  presumption.  Here 
the  commands  of  Jesus  Christ  are  explicit, 
"  When  they  persecute  you  in  one  city,  flee  to 
another,"  Matt.  x.  23.  The  decision  of  wis- 
dom is  extremely  positive;  "  they  who  love 
the  danger,  shall  pcrisli  by  it,"  Matt.  xxiv.  2. 
Experience  is  a  convincing  test.  St.  Peter, 
who  presumed  to  go  into  the  court  of  Caiaphas, 
under  a  pretence  of  following  Jesus,  denied 
!iim  there,  is  not  this  what  we  have  repre- 
sented a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times,  to 
those  of  our  unhappy  brethren,  wiiom  this 
part  of  our  dis(X)urse  particularly  respects? 
We  have  proved,  that  we  must  eitiier  leave 
the  places  in  which  the  truth  is  persecuted,  or 
calmly  submit  to  martyrdom.  We  have  made 
it  appear  that  no  man  can  assure  himself  of 
constancy  to  suffer  martyrdom,  unsupported 
by  the  extraordinary  aids  of  tiie  Holy  Spirit. 
We  have  demonstrated  tiiat  it  is  presumption 
to  promise  themselves  those  aids,  while  they 
neglect  the  means  offered  by  Providence  to 
uvoid  the  danger.  They  do  violence  to  rea- 
son. They  resist  demonstration.  They  pre- 
sume on  their  own  strength.  Tliey  rely 
whoUy  on  supernatural  ])ower.  Tiiey  promise 
themselves  a  chimerical  comjucst.  Hence  tliose 
frecjuent  abnegations.  Hence  those  awful  falls. 
Hence  those  scandalous  apostacies.  1  have 
therefore  done  wrong  in  placing  the  tempta- 
tions of  presumption  among  those  subtle  snares, 
those  plausible  pretences,  which  impose  on  the 
most  established  Christiani.  1  am  mistaken; 
they  are  the  broadest  snires,  and  grossest 
sophisms  of  the  enemy  of  our  salvation;  and 
lie  is  weak  indeed,  who  suj'crs  himself  to  be 
surprised.  What!  have  you  ;)roved  your  weak- 
ness a  hundred  and  a  hundred  times,  and  do 
you  still  talk  of  [wwcr?  What!  have  you  at 
this  day  scarcely  resolution  lo  sacrifice  a  part 
of  your  property  for  religion,  and  do  you  j)re- 
sumo  that  you  can  sacrifice  your  life?  What! 
have  you  not  furlitude  to  follow  .lesus  Christ 
into  peaci'lul  countries,  and  do  you  presume 
to  hope  that  you  can  fidlow  him  to  the  cross? 

3.  Those,  whom  Satan  cannot  destroy  by 
proBumption,  he  endeavours,  and  it  is  a  third 


snare  with  which  he  a.ssailsthe  church  in  tri* 
bulation,  he  endeavours,  I  say,  to  destroy  by 
distrust.  "  I  am  weak,"  says  a  man  who  dis- 
courages himself  by  temptations  of  this  na* 
ture;  "I  am  weak:  I  shall  not  have  constancy 
to  sustain  the  miseries  inseparably  attendant 
on  those  who  devote  themselves  to  voluntary 
exile,  by  going  into  places  where  the  truth  is 
professed;  nor  fortitude  to  endure  the  tortures 
infiicted  on  those  who  avow  it  in  places  where 
it  is  persecuted.  1  am  weak;  I  have  not 
courage  to  lead  a  languishing  life  in  un- 
known nations,  to  beg  my  bread  with  my  chil- 
dren, and  to  hear  my  poverty  sometimes  re- 
proached by  those  to  whom  the  cause  for  which 
I  suffer  ought  to  render  it  venerable.  I  am 
weak;  I  shall  never  have  constancy  to  endure 
the  stink  of  dungeons,  the  weight  of  the  oar, 
and  all  the  terrific  apparatus  of  martyrdom." 

You  say,  I  am  weak!  say  rather  I  am  wick- 
ed, and  pronounce  upon  yourselves  beforehand 
the  sentence  which  the  gospel  has  pronounced 
against  persons  of  this  description.  You  are 
weak!  But  is  it  not  to  the  weak  that  are  made 
(provided  their  intentions  are  really  sincere) 
the  promises  of  those  strong  consolations, 
which  enable  them  to  say,  "  When  I  am  weak, 
then  I  am  strong,"  2  Cor.  vii.  10.  You  are 
weak!  ]'ut  is  it  riot  said  to  the  weak,  "  God 
is  faitiiful,  who  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempt- 
ed above  that  ye  are  able,  but  will  with  the 
temptation  also  make  a  way  to  escape,  that  ye 
may  be  able  to  bear  it?  1  Cor.  x.  13.  You  are 
weak!  Jiut  is  it  not  the  weak  to  whom  God 
has  realized  the  truth  of  his  magnificent  pro- 
mises? I  will  not  refer  you  to  those  marvellous 
ages,  when  men,  women,  and  children,  sus- 
tained the  most  terrific  tortures  with  a  courage 
more  than  human.  I  will  not  adduce  here 
the  example  of  those  saints,  enumerated  in  the 
chapter,  preceding  my  text;  of  saints  who  were 
stoued,  who  were  killed  with  the  sword,  who 
were  tortured,  who  were  fettered,  and  who 
displayed  more  constancy  in  suffering,  than 
their  persecutors  and  hangmen,  in  the  inflic- 
tion of  torments.  But  go  to  those  myriads  of 
exiles,  who  have  inundated  England,  Ger- 
many, and  these  provinces,  all  of  whom  are 
protestant  nations;  those  myriads  of  exiles, 
"  who  have  gone  to  Jesus  Christ  without  the 
camp,  bearing  liis  reproach;"  destitute  of  every 
earthly  comfort,  but  delighted  to  have  gotten 
their  souls  for  a  prey;  were  not  they  by  nature 
weak  as  you?  And,  with  the  assistance  of 
grace,  may  not  you  become  strong  as  they? 
But  tliose  fathers,  but  those  mothers,  who  have 
torn  themselves  away  from  their  children,  and 
the  separation  of  whom  from  creatures  so  dear, 
seemed  as  tearing  away  their  own  flesh,  were 
they  nut  by  nature  weak  as  you?  But  those 
Abrahams,  who  taking  their  children  by  the 
hand,  went  in  some  sort,  to  sacrifice  them  to 
hunger  and  thirst,  to  cold  and  rain;  and  who 
rejiliud  to  the  piercing  complaints  of  those  in- 
nocent victims,  "  The  Lord  will  provide,  my 
children;  in  the  mountain  of  the  Lord  it  shall 
be  seen,"  Gen.  xxii.  11.  But  those  fathers, 
those  mothers,  were  they  not  naturally  weak 
as  you.'  And  with  the  help  of  God,  may  not 
you  become  as  strong  as  they?  You  are  weak! 
But  those  slaves  who  have  now  been  thirty 
years  on  board  the  galleys;  thotic  Rois,  those 


Ses.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


289 


Broussons,  those  Marolks,  and  such  a  multi- 
tude of  our  martyrs,  who  liave  scaled  tlie 
evangelical  doctrine  with  their  blood,  who 
have  ascended  the  scatiold,  not  only  with  re- 
signation, hut  with  joy,  with  trans()ort»,  with 
Bongs  of  triumph,  exclaiming,  amid  their  suf- 
ferings, "  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ 
which  strengtheneth  me,"  I'hil.  i.  13.  "  Thanks 
be  unto  God,  which  always  causeth  us  to 
triumph  in  Christ,"  2  Cor.  ii.  14.  "  Blessed  he 
the  Lord,  who  teacheth  my  hands  to  war,  and 
my  fingers  to  hght,"  Ps.  cxliv.  1.  Were  not 
those  venerable  men  naturally  weak  as  you? 
And  with  the  help  of  God,  may  not  you  be- 
come strong  as  they?  Are  you  weak!  It  is 
still  added,  say  rather,  I  am  wicked,  and  blush 
for  your  impiety. 

4.  There  are  yet  more  plausible  insinuations, 
and  more  subtle  snares:  and  conscijueiilly,  the 
more  likely  to  entangle  those  who  arc  defec- 
tive in  precautions  of  defence.  The  enemy  of 
our  salvation  sometimes  borrows  weapons  Irom 
conscience,  in  order  to  give  it  mortal  wounds. 
The  advice  we  give  to  the  persecuted,  is  that 
of  Jesus  Christ;  "  If  any  man  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me," 
Matt.  xvi.  24.  "  Come  out  of  Babylon,  my 
people,  that  ye  be  not  partakers  of  her  sins, 
and  that  ye  receive  not  her  plagues,"  Kev. 
xviii.  4.  To  this  duty,  they  oppose  otlicr 
duties;  and  family  duties  in  particular.  Wliat 
would  become  of  my  father,  should  I  leave 
him  in  his  old  age?  VVhat  would  become  of 
my  children  should  I  forsake  them  in  their  in- 
fancy.' They  allege  the  duties  of  benevolence. 
What  would  become  of  so  many  poor  people 
who  procure  bread  in  my  employment'  So 
many  starving  families,  who  subsist  on  my 
alms'  So  many  people  in  perplexity,  who  are 
guided  by  my  advice?  What  would  become 
of  these,  if,  neglecting  their  happiness,  1  should 
solely  seek  my  own?  They  allege  the  duties 
of  zeal.  What  would  become  of  religion  in 
this  place,  in  which  it  was  once  so  flourishing, 
if  all  those  who  know  the  truth  should  obey 
the  command,  "  Come  out  of  Babylon." 

Let  us,  my  bretliren,  unmask  this  snare  of 
the  devil.  He  places  these  last  duties  before 
your  eyes,  in  order  that  you  may  neglect  the 
first,  without  which  all  others  are  detestable 
in  the  sight  of  God  our  sovereign  Judge;  who 
whenever  he  places  us  in  a  situation  in  which 
we  cannot  practise  a  virtue  without  commit- 
ting a  crime,  prohibits  that  virtue.  God  as- 
sumes to  himself  the  government  of  the  world, 
and  he  will  not  lay  it  on  your  shoulders;  he 
still  asserts  the  same  language  he  once  ad- 
dressed to  St.  Paul,  when  that  prince  under 
the  pretence  of  obedience  to  a  precept,  had 
violated  an  express  prohibition.  "  Hath  the 
Lord  as  great  delight  in  burnt-offerings  and 
sacrifices,  as  in  obeying  the  voice  of  the  Lord? 
Behold,  to  obey  is  better  than  sacrifice,  and  to 
hearken  than  the  fat  of  rams,"  1  Sam.  xv.  22. 

5.  But  is  it  public  worsliip;  (and  this  is  a 
fiflh  snare,  a  fifth  insinuation;  and  a  fitlh  class 
of  those  "  sins  which  so  easily  beset  us;") — is 
it  public  worship  wliich  constitutes  the  essence 
of  religion?  Does  not  true  devotion  wholly 
consist  in  worshipping  in  Spirit,  and  in  truth? 
May  we  not  retain  religion  secretly  in  our 
heart,  though  we  apparently  suspend  the  ex- 
Vol.  II.— 37 


tcrior  service?  And  though  external  worship 
be  required,  must  it  always  be  presented  in  the 
presence  of  a  multitude'  May  not  private 
devotion  be  a  substitute  for  public  worship? 
And  may  we  not  ofler  to  God  in  the  closet, 
the  devotion  which  the  calamity  of  the  time 
does  not  allow  us  to  offer  in  temples  consecrat- 
ed to  his  glory,  and  perform  in  our  families  the 
offices  of  piety  which  tyrants  prevent  our  per- 
forming in  immerous  assemblies? 

(1.)  I  answer;  what  are  the  private  devo- 
tions performed  in  places  in  which  the  truth  is 
l)crsccuted'.  Kidiculous  devotions;  many  of 
those  who  perform  them  being  divided  between 
Christ  and  Belial,  between  true  and  idolatrous 
adoration.  In  the  morning,  before  the  altar 
of  false  gods;  in  the  evening,  before  the  altar 
of  the  Supreme  Jehovah.  In  the  morning, 
denying  Jesus  Christ  in  public;  in  the  evening 
confessing  him  in  private.  In  the  morning 
making  a  parade  of  error;  in  the  evening,  pre- 
tending to  acknowledge  the  truth.  Devotions 
in  which  they  are  in  continual  alarms;  in  which 
they  are  obliged  to  conceal  themselves  from 
their  enemies,  from  many  of  their  friends,  and 
to  say  in  secret,  who  sees  me?  who  hears  me? 
who  suspects  me?  Devotions  in  which  they 
are  afraid  of  false  brethren,  afraid  of  the  walls, 
or  afraid  of  themselves! 

(2".)  The  inward  disposition,  you  say  consti- 
tutes the  essence  of  religion.  1  ask,  what  sort 
of  inward  disposition  is  that  of  the  Christians 
whom  we  attack?  Show  us  now,  this  religion 
which  consists  wholly  of  inward  dispositions; 
this  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  What!  this 
gross  ignorance  a  necessary  consequence  of 
privation  of  the  ministry,  those  absurd  notions 
of  our  mysteries,  those  vague  ideas  of  morality; 
is  this  the  inward  religion,  is  this  "  the  wor- 
ship in  spirit  and  in  truth?"  What!  this  ab- 
horrence they  entertain  of  the  communion  of 
the  persecutor,  who  tiioy  know  scarcely  pos- 
sesses the  first  principles  of  the  persecuted?  Is 
this  the  inward  religion,  is  this  the  "  worship 
in  spirit  and  in  truth?"  What!  this  kind  of 
deism,  and  deism  certainly  of  the  worst  kind, 
which  we  see  maintained  by  the  persons  in 
question!  Is  this  the  inward  religion,  is  this 
the  "  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth?"  WhatI 
this  tranquillity  with  which  they  enjoy  not 
only  the  riches  they  have  preserved  at  the  ex- 
pense of  their  soul;  but  the  riches  of  these 
who  have  sacrificed  the  whole  of  their  proper- 
ty for  the  sake  of  the  gospel?  Is  this  the  in- 
ward religion,  is  this  tiie  "  worship  in  spirit 
and  in  truth?"  What!  this  participation  in  the 
pleasures  of  the  age,  at  a  period  when  they 
ought  to  weep:  those  frantic  joys,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  over  the  ruins  of  our  temples,  after  re- 
nouncing the  doctrines  there  professed?  Is  this 
the  inward  religion,  is  this  the  "  worship  in 
spirit  and  in  truth?"  What!  those  marriages 
they  contract,  in  which  it  is  stipulated,  in  case 
of  issue,  they  shall  be  baptized  by  the  minis- 
ters of  error,  and  educated  in  their  religion? 
Is  this  the  inward  religion,  is  this  the  "  wor- 
ship in  spirit  and  in  truth?" 

6.  I  will  add  but  one  illusion  more,  and  that 
is  the  illusion  of  security.  If  we  offend,  say 
the  persons  we  attack; — if  we  offend  in  sub- 
mitting to  the  pressure  of  the  times,  we  do  it 
through  weakness,  and  weakness  is  an  object 


290 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


[Ser.  LXXXIII 


of  divino  clemency.  It  is  not  poHsible,  that  a 
merciful  God,  a  God  who  "knows  whereof  we 
are  made,"  a  God  wlio  has  formed  us  with  the 
uttailmieiit  wo  have  for  our  j)ro|>erty,  our  rela- 
tives, and  our  live»;  it  is  not  possilile  that  this 
God  should  condemn  us  to  eternal  misery,  be- 
cause we  have  not  had  the  fortitude  to  sacrifice 
the  whole.  A  double  siiield,  my  brethren,  shall 
cover  you  against  this  temptation,  if  you  have 
prudence  to  use  it;  a  double  rellection  shall  de- 
fend you  against  this  last  illusion. 

First,  the  positive  declarations  of  our  Scrip- 
tures. God  is  merciful,  it  is  true;  but  he  is  an 
arbitrator  of  the  terms  on  whicii  his  mercy  i» 
offered:  or,  as  it  is  written,  he  extends  mercy  to 
whom  he  pleases;  and  God  who  extends  mercy 
to  whom  he  pleases,  declarer  that  he  will  show 
»o  mercy  to  those  who  refuse  to  honour  his 
truth.  He  declares,  that  "  lie  will  deny  those 
before  his  Father,  who  deny  him  before  men," 
Matt.  X.  33.  He  declares,  that  "  he  who  lovctli 
father  or  mother  more  than  him,  is  not  vvortiiy 
of  him,"  Matt.  x.  37.  He  declares,  that  "  tliey 
who  receive  the  mark  of  the  beast,  or  worship 
his  image,  shall  be  cast  alive  into  the  lake  of 
fire,  burning  with  brimstone,"  Rev.  xi.v.  20. 
He  declares,  that  he  will  class  in  the  great  day, 
"  the  fearful;"  that  is,  those  who  have  not  had 
courage  to  confess  tiieir  religion,  with  the  "  un- 
believing," with  "  the  abominable,"  with  "  the 
murderers,"  with  "  the  whoremongers,"  with 
"  the  sorcerers,"  with  "  the  idolaters,"  with 
"the  liars."  He  declares,  that  "the  fearful 
shall,"  in  common  with  others,  be  cast  into  the 
lake  which  burnetii  with  fire  and  brimstone, 
■which  is  the  seccjiid  death,"  ilev.  .x.xi.  8. 

The  second  rellection,  which  should  be  a 
shield  for  repelling  this  illusion  of  tiie  devil, 
arises  from  the  nature  of  the  crime  itself,  ac- 
counted a  mere  infirmity.  Four  characters  con- 
tribute to  the  atrocity  of  a  crime.  1.  When  it 
is  not  committed  in  a  moment  of  surprise,  in 
whicii  we  are  taken  unawares.  2.  When  we 
persist  in  it  not  only  for  a  few  hours,  or  days, 
but  live  in  it  for  whole  years.  3.  When  during 
those  years  of  criminality,  we  have  all  the  oj>- 
portunities  we  could  reasonably  ask  of  emanci- 
pation. 4.  When  this  crime  not  only  captivates 
the  solitary  offender,  but  draws  a  great  number 
more  into  the  same  perdition.  These  four  cha- 
racters all  associate  with  the  crime  in  question, 
the  crime  reckoned  a  weakness,  and  obstinately 
classed  among  the  infirmities  of  nature.  But  1 
have  not  resolution  to  enlarge  upon  this  subject, 
and  to  prove,  that  our  unhappy  brethren  are  in 
such  imminent  danger  of  destruclion.  And  the 
expiration  of  my  time  is  a  subordinate  induce- 
ment to  proceed  to  other  subjects. 

II.  Were  it  possible  for  the  discourses  intro- 
duced into  this  pulpit  to  be  finished  pieces,  in 
which  we  were  allowed  to  exhaust  the  subjects; 
were  you  capable  of  paying  the  same  attention 
to  exercises,  which  turn  on  spiritual  subjects, 
you  bestow  on  business  or  pleasure,  1  would  jire- 
sent  you  with  a  new  scheme  of  arguments;  I 
would  reduce,  to  different  classes,  the  tempta- 
tions which  Satan  employs  to  obstruct  you  in 
the  course.  But  we  should  never  promise  our- 
selves the  completion  of  a  subject  in  the  scanty 
limits  to  which  wo  are  prescribed. 

I  shall  take  a  shorter  course,  harmonizing  the 
extent  and  inii>ortaacti  of  the  remaining  subject 


with  the  brevity  of  my  trmo.  I  shall  proceed 
to  give  a  portrait  of  the  life  common  to  persona 
who  attain  the  utmost  age  God  has  assigned  to 
man.  I  shall  conduct  him  from  infancy  to  the 
close  of  life,  tracing  t(j  you,  in  each  period  it  is 
presumed  he  shall  pass,  tiie  various  temjitations 
whicli  assail  him;  and  by  which  it  is  impossible 
he  should  fall,  if  he  keep  in  view  the  apostle's 
exhortation,  "  Let  ns  lay  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  which  dotii  so  easily  beset  us."  Let 
every  one  wlio  hears  this  sermon  with  a  view 
to  profit,  carefully  ajiply  to  himself  those  traits 
whicli  have  the  nearest  resemblance  to  his  state. 
Hence  1  would  presume  every  one  of  you  to  be 
the  man  who  shall  attain  the  age  of  eighty 
years:  these  arc  the  temptations  he  will  find  in 
his  coarse. 

1,  Scarcely  will  you  be  liberated  from  the 
arms  of  the  nurse,  when  you  fall  under  the  care 
of  weak  and  indulgent  ])eople;  who  will,  through 
a  cruel  complaisance,  take  as  much  pains  to 
clierish  the  corrupt  propensities  of  nature,  a» 
they  ought  to  take  for  their  subjugation.  At 
this  earlv  period  they  will  sow  in  your  heart 
awful  seeds,  which  will  ])roduce  an  increase  of 
thirty,  sixty,  or  an  hundred-fold.  They  will 
make  a  jest  of  your  faults,  they  will  applaud 
your  vices,  and  so  avail  themselves  of  your  ten- 
der age,  to  give  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
wounds  to  your  innocence,  that  all  your  appli- 
cation will  scarcely  heal,  when  you  shall  be 
capable  of  ai)plication.  If  you  do  not  avail 
yourselves  of  the  first  senlimcnls  of  piety  and 
reason,  to  resist  so  far  as  liie  weakness  of  child- 
hood will  permit,  tliosu  dangerous  snares,  you 
will  find  yourselves  very  far  advanced  in  the 
road  of  vice  before  your  situation  is  perceived. 

2.  Is  infancy  succeeded  by  youlli?  Fresh 
snares,  new  temptations,  occur.  On  the  com- 
mencement of  rellection,  you  will  discover  ex- 
isting, in  your  constitution  and  temperature, 
principles  grossly  opposed  to  the  law  of  God. 
Perhaps  the  evil  may  have  its  principal  seat  in 
the  soul,  perhaps  in  the  body.  In  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  soul,  you  will  find  principles  of  en- 
vy, principles  of  vanity,  t>r  principles  of  avarice. 
In  the  temperature  of  the  body,  you  will  find 
j)rinciples  of  anger,  principles  of  impurity,  or 
|)rinciples  of  indolence.  If  you  are  not  aware 
of  this  class  of  temptations,  you  will  readily 
sufler  yourselves  to  be  carried  away  by  your 
propensity,  and  you  will  ol>ey  it  without  re- 
morse; you  will  invest  it  with  privilege  to  do 
with  innocence,  what  the  rest  of  the  world  can- 
not do  without  a  crime.  You  must  expect  to 
find  in  your  temperature  principles  which  will 
dispense  with  virtue,  and  to  l>o  captivated  by 
maxims  which  too  much  predominate  in  the 
world,  and  which  you  will  daily  hear  from  the 
mouths  of  your  companions  in  dissipation. 
These  maxims  are,  that  youth  i»  the  age  of 
pleasure;  that  it  is  unbecoming  a  ywmg  man  to 
i)e  grave,  serious,  devout,  and  scrupulous;  that 
now  we  ought  to  excuse  not  only  games,  plea- 
sure, and  the  theatres,  but  even  debauchery, 
drunkenness,  luxury,  and  profaneness;  that 
swearing  gives  a  young  man  an  air  of  chivalry 
becoming  his  age,  and  debauchery  an  air  of 
gallantry  whicli  does  him  credit  in  the  world. 
Caution  yourselves  against  this  class  of  tempta- 
tions: reject  the  sin  whicli  so  easily  destroys  you, 

I  if  you  sliould  relax  in  one  single  instance.    Ahi 


Ser.  LXXXIII.] 


ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  SAINTS. 


291 


think,  my  son,  that  you  may  never  survive 
thoee  years  you  devote  to  the  world,  think  that 
the  small-pox,  a  fever,  a  single  quarrel,  or  one 
act  of  dekiuchery,  may  snatch  away  your  life. 
Think,  tliough  you  should  run  your  full  course, 
3'ou  will  never  have  such  flexible  organs,  so  re- 
tentive a  memory,  so  ready  a  conception,  as 
you  have  to-day;  and  consequently,  you  will 
never  have  such  a  facility  for  forming  habits  of 
holiness.  Think  how  you  will  one  day  lament 
to  have  lost  so  precious  an  opportunity.  Con- 
secrate your  early  life  to  duty,  dispose  your 
heart,  at  this  period,  to  ensure  salvation.  "Jle- 
mcniber  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  lliy 
youth,  while  the  evil  days  come  not,  nor  the 
years  draw  nigh,  in  which  thou  shaltsay,  1  have 
no  pleasure  in  them,"  Ecoles,  xii.  1. 

3.  After  having  considered  the  period  of 
youth,  we  proceed  to  maturer  age.  A  new 
stage,  fresh  snarjes,  more  temptations.  What 
profession  can  you  ciioosc,  which  the  spirit  of 
the  world  has  not  infected  with  its  venom;  and 
which  has  not,  so  to  speak,  its  peculiar  morality? 
The  peculiar  morality  of  a  snldier,  whose  duty 
is  to  defend  society,  to  maintain  religion,  to  re- 
press licentiousness,  to  oppose  rapine  by  force: 
and  to  deduce,  from  so  many  dangers,  which 
open  the  way  of  death,  motives  to  render  the 
account  which  Heaven  will  require:  but  it  is  a 
profession  in  which  a  man  thinks  himself  au- 
thorized to  insult  society,  to  despise  religion,  to 
foment  licentiousness,  to  lend  his  arm,  to  sacri- 
fice his  life,  to  sell  his  person  for  the  most  am- 
bitious designs,  the  most  iniquitous  conquests, 
and  sanguinary  enterprises  of  sovereigns. 

The  peculiar  morality  of  the  statesman  and 
tna^islrate,  whoso  profession  is  to  preserve  the 
o|)pressed,  to  weigh  with  calmness  a  long  detail 
of  «auses  and  consequences,  to  avail  himself  of 
the  dignity  to  which  he  is  elevated  to  afford  ex- 
amples of  virtue;  but  it  is  a  profession  in  which 
he  thinks  himself  entitled  to  become  inaccessible 
to  the  injured,  to  weary  them  out  with  morti- 
fying reserves,  with  insupportable  delays,  and 
to  dispense  with  labour  and  application,  aban- 
doning himself  to  dissipation  and  vice. 

The  peculiar  morality  of  the  lawyer,  whose 
■duty  ie  to  restrict  his  ministry  to  truth  and  jus- 
tice, never  to  plead  for  a  cause  which  has  not 
the  appearance  of  equity,  and  to  be  the  advo- 
cate of  those  who  are  inadequate  to  reward  his 
services:  but  it  is  a  ])rofession  in  which  a  man 
tiiinks  himself  authorized  to  maintain  both 
falsehood  and  truth,  to  support  iniquity  and 
falsehood,  and  to  direct  his  efforts  to  the  cele- 
brity he  may  acquire,  or  the  remuneration  he 
may  receive. 

The  peculiar  morality  of  tlie  merchant,  whose 
duty  is  to  detest  short  weights  and  false  mea- 
sures, to  pay  the  revenue,  and  to  be  satisfied 
with  a  moderate  profit:  but  a  profession  in  which 
he  thinks  himself  authorized  to  indulge  those 
very  vices  he  ought  in  particular  to  avoid. 

The  peculiar  morality  of  the  minister.  What 
is  the  vocation  of  a  minister?  Is  it  not  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  virtue?  Is  it  not  to  set  a 
jiattern  to  all  the  church?  Is  it  not  to  visit  the 
hospitals,  and  houses  of  afUiction,  and  to  alle- 
viate, as  far  as  he  can,  the  pressure  of  their  ca- 
lamities? Is  it  not  to  direct  his  studies,  not  to 
subjects  by  which  he  may  acquire  celebrity  for 
learning  and  eloquence,  but  to  those  wliich  tatijf 


render  him  most  useful'  Is  it  not  to  determine 
on  the  choice  of  a  text,  not  by  the  caprice  of 
the  people,  which  on  this  point  is  often  weak, 
and  mostly  partial,  but  by  the  immediate  wants 
of  the  flock?  Is  it  not  to  |)ay  the  same  attention 
to  a  dying  man,  born  of  an  obscure  family, 
stretched  on  a  couch  of  grass,  and  unknown  to 
the  rest  of  the  world,  as  to  him  who  possesses  a 
distinguished  nam«,  who  aiioimds  in  wealth, 
who  j>ruvides  the  most  splendid  coffin  and  mag- 
nificent funeral?  Is  it  not  to  "cry  aloud,  to  lift 
up  his  voice  like  a  trumpet,  to  show  the  people 
their  transgressions,  and  the  house  of  Jacob 
their  sins;  to  know  no  man  after  the  flesh;"  and 
when  he  ascends  this  pulpit,  to  reprove  vice 
with  firmness,  however  exalted  may  be  the  situ- 
ation of  the  offender?  But  what  is  the  morality 
of  a  pastor?  "  Enter  not  into  judgment  with 
thy  servants,  O  Lord;  for  we  cannot  answer 
thee  one  of  a  thousand."  Caution  yourselves 
against  this  class  of  temptations.  The  world  is 
neither  your  legislator,  nor  your  judge;  Jesus 
Christ,  and  not  the  world,  is  the  sovereign  ar- 
bitrator. It  is  the  morality  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
not  the  maxims  of  men,  which  you  should  fol- 
low. 

4.  Having  reviewed  human  life  in  infancy, 
youth,  and  manhood,  I  proceed  to  consider  it  in 
old  age;  in  that  old  age,  which  seems  so  distant, 
but  which  is,  in  fact,  within  a  few  years;  in  that 
old  age  which  seems,  in  some  sort,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  eternity,  but  which  advances  with  as- 
tonishing rapidity.  A  new  state,  fresh  snares, 
more  temptations  occur:  infirmities,  troubles, 
and  cares,  arrive  with  age.  The  less  there  re- 
mains on  earth  to  defend,  the  more  men  are 
resolved  not  to  let  it  jro.  The  love  of  life  hav- 
ing predominated  for  fifty  or  sixty  years,  some- 
times unites  and  attaches  itself,  so  to  speak,  yet 
more  closely  to  the  short  period,  which  they 
think  is  still  promised.  It  is  so  rooted  and  in- 
trenched in  tlie  heart,  as  to  be  immoveable  by 
all  our  sermons  on  eternity.  They  look  on  all 
who  witness  the  calamities  they  suffer,  as 
though  they  were  the  cause:  it  seems  as  though 
they  were  reproached  for  having  lived  so  long, 
and  they  make  them  atone  for  this  imaginary 
fault,  as  though  they  were  really  guilty.  The 
thoughts  of  death  they  put  away  with  the 
greater  care,  as  it  approaches  nearer,  it  being 
impossible  to  avoid  the  idea,  without  these  el- 
forts  to  remove  it.  They  call  to  their  aid 
amusements,  which  would  scarcely  be  excusa- 
ble in  the  age  of  infancy:  thus  they  lose  the 
precious  remains  of  life, — granted  by  the  long- 
sulTering  of  God, — as  they  have  lost  the  long 
course  of  years,  of  which  nothing  now  remains 
but  the  recollection. 

Be  on  your  guard,  aged  men,  against  this 
class  of  temptations,  and  against  these  illusions, 
which  will  easily  beset  you,  unless  the  whole 
of  your  strength  be  collected  for  precaution  and 
defence.  Let  ])rayer  be  joined  to  vigilance:  let 
those  hands,  trembling  and  enfeebled  with  the 
weight  of  years,  be  raised  to  heaven:  let  that 
voice,  scarcely  capable  of  articulating  accents, 
be  addressed  to  God:  entreat  him,  who  succour- 
ed you  in  the  weakness  of  infancy,  in  the  vigour 
of  youth,  in  the  bustle  of  riper  age,  still  to  sus- 
tain you,  when  the  hand  of  time  is  heavy  upon 
your  head. 
Hitherto,  my  dear  brethren,  I  have  addres»- 


292 


SAINT  PAUL'S  DISCOURSE  BEFORE 


[Ser.  LXXXIII. 


ed  you,  merely  concerning  the  dangers  peculiar 
to  each  apfc.  What  would  you  not  say  now, 
if  we  should  enter  into  a  detail  of  those  wliicli 
occur  in  every  situation  of  hfe?  We  find,  in 
every  age,  temptations  of  adversity,  tempta- 
tions of  prosperity,  temptations  of  health,  temp- 
tations of  sickness,  temptations  of  company, 
and  temptations  of  solitude:  and  who  is  ahle 
fully  to  enumerate  all  the  sins  which  so  easily 
beset  us  in  the  various  ages  of  life?  How  should 
one  be  rich  without  pride,  and  poor  without 
complaint'  How  may  one  fill  the  middle  rank 
of  fortune,  without  the  disgust  naturally  conse- 
quent on  a  station,  which  has  nothing  emulous 
and  animating;  which  can  be  endured  by  those 
only,  who  discover  the  evils  from  which  they 
are  sheltered,  and  the  dangers  from  which  they 
are  freed?  How  can  one  enjoy  health  without 
indulging  in  the  dissipations  of  life,  without 
immersion  into  its  cares,  or  indulging  in  its 
pleasures?  How  can  one  be  sick,  without  ad- 
mitting complaint  against  tiiat  gracious  Provi- 
dence, which  distributes  both  good  and  evil? 
How  can  one  be  in  solitude,  without  being  cap- 
tivated with  reveries  and  corrupt  propensities? 
How  can  one  be  in  company,  without  receiving 
the  poison  which  is  there  respired,  without  re- 
ceiving a  conformity  to  every  surrounding  ob- 
ject? How  see  one's  self  obscure  in  the  world, 
and  unknown  to  our  fellow-creatures,  without 
indulging  that  anxiety,  which  is  less  exercised 
in  the  world  for  the  love  of  virtue,  than  to 
avoid  the  odium  consequent  on  an  open  viola- 
tion of  its  laws?  How  can  one  enjoy  reputa- 
tion without  ostentation,  and  blending  some 
grains  of  incense  with  what  we  receive  of 
other&'  Every  where  snares,  every  where  dan- 
gers, beset  us! 

From  the  truths  we  have  delivered,  there 
necessarily  arises  an  objection,  by  which  you 
are  struck,  and  many  of  you,  perhaps,  already 
discouraged.  What!  are  we  always  to  be  think- 
ing about  religion,  being  in  constant  danger  of 
losing  it,  should  we  suffer  it  to  escape  our 
minds?  What!  must  we  always  watch,  always 
pray,  always  fight'  Yes,  my  brethren,  always, 
at  all  times.  On  seeing  the  temptations  of 
youth,  you  should  guard  against  those  of  riper 
age.  On  seeing  the  temptations  of  solitude., 
you  should  guard  against  those  of  company. 
On  seeing  the  temptations  of  adversity,  you 
should  guard  against  those  of  prosperity.  On 
seeing  the  temptations  of  health,  you  should 
guard  against  those  of  sickness.  And  on  see- 
ing the  temptations  of  sickness,  you  should 
guard  against  those  of  death.  Yes;  always 
watching,  always  fighting,  always  praying. 

I  do  not  say,  if  you  should  happen  to  relax 
a  moment  from  the  work;  I  do  not  say,  if  you 
should  happen  to  fall  by  some  of  the  tempta- 
tions to  which  you  are  exposed  from  the  world, 
that  you  are  lost  without  resource,  that  you 
should  instantly  go  from  sin  to  punishment, 
from  the  abuse  of  time  to  an  unhai)py  eternity. 
Perhaps  God  will  grant  you  a  day,  or  a  year, 
for  repentance;  but  periiaps  he  will  not.  Per- 
haps you  may  repent;  but  perhaps  you  may 
not.  Perhaps  you  may  be  saved;  but  perhaps 
not.  Perhaps  hell — perhaps  heaven.  What 
repose  can  you  enjoy  in  so  awful  an  alterna- 
tive? What  delight  can  you  enjoy  in  certain 
vices,  the  perpetration  of  which  requires  time? 


What  repose  can  you  enjoy  in  a  criminal  in- 
trigue, saying  to  yourself,  perhaps  God  will 
pardon  me  after  having  brought  this  intrigue 
to  an  issue:  but  perhaps,  also,  during  the 
course  of  the  crime,  he  will  pronounce  the  sen- 
tence it  deserves.  What  repose  can  you  enjoy 
in  the  night  preceding  a  day  destined  to  a  com- 
jjliration  of  crimes,  saying  to  yourself,  perhaps 
I  shall  see  the  day  devoted  to  so  dreadful  a 
purjiosc:  but  perhaps  this  very  night  "  my  soul 
shall  be  required:"  what  delight  can  you  take 
in  a  tour  of  pleasure,  when  it  actually  engrosses 
the  time  you  have  devoted  to  search  your  con- 
science, to  examine  your  state,  to  prepare  for 
death,  to  make  restitution  for  so  many  frauds, 
so  many  extortions,  so  many  dissipations?  W^hat 
satisfaction  can  you  take,  saying  to  yourself, 
perhaps  I  shall  see  the  day  devoted  to  so  great 
a  work,  but  perha|)s  it  will  never  come? 

Ah!  my  brethren,  have  you  any  proper  idea 
of  the  shortness  of  life:  have  you  any  proper 
idea  of  the  eternity  which  follows,  when  you 
start  the  objection,  What!  always  pray,  always 
fight,  always  watch?  This  life,  the  whole  of 
which  we  exliort  you  to  devote  to  your  salva- 
tion; this  life,  of  which  you  say;  always — al- 
ways; this  is  the  life,  on  the  shortness  of  which 
you  make  so  many  exaggerated  declamations: 
I  mistake,  the  shortness  of  which  can  scarcely 
be  exaggerated.  This  life,  of  which  you  say, 
when  we  exhort  you  to  devote  it  entirely  to 
your  salvation;  this  life  of  which  you  'say. 
What!  always — always;  this  life,  which  is  but 
a  vajiour  dissipated  in  the  air;  this  life,  which 
passes  with  the  swiftness  of  a  weaver's  shuttle; 
this  life,  which  like  a  flower  blooms  in  the 
morning,  and  withers  at  night:  this  life,  which 
like  a  dream  amuses  the  fancy  for  a  night,  and 
of  whicli  not  a  vestige  remains  at  the  dawn  of 
day: — this  is  the  life  which  is  but  like  a  thought. 
And  eternity,  concerning  which  you  regret  to 
be  always  employed;  that  abyss,  that  gulf,  are 
those  mountainous  heaps  of  years,  of  ages,  of 
millions  and  oceans  of  ages,  of  which  language 
the  most  expressive,  images  the  most  sublime, 
geniuses  the  most  acute,  orators  the  most  elo- 
quent, I  have  almost  said,  the  most  audacious, 
can  give  you  but  imperfect  notions. 

Ah!  life  of  fourscore  years!  A  long  duration 
in  the  estimation  of  the  heart,  when  employed 
in  wrestling  against  tiie  flesh;  but  a  short  period 
when  compared  with  eternity.  Ah!  life  of 
fourscore  years,  spent  wholly  in  watchfulness, 
prayer,  and  warfare;  but  thou  art  well  spent 
when  we  obtain  the  prize  of  a  blissful  immor- 
tality!   My  brethren,  my  dear  brethren,  who 

can  live  but  fourscore  years, What  do  I 

say?  Who  among  us  can  expect  to  see  the  age 
of  fourscore  years?  Christians,  who  are  already 
arrived  at  thirty,  others  at  forty,  others  at  fifty, 
and  another  already  at  fourscore  years.  My 
dear  brethren,  some  of  you  must  die  in  thirty, 
some  of  you  in  twenty,  some  of  you  in  ten 
years,  and  some  in  a  single  day.  My  dear 
brethren,  let  us  consecrate  to  eternity  the  rem- 
nant of  our  days  of  vanity.  Let  us  return  to 
the  testimonies  of  the  Lord,  if  we  have  had  the 
misfortune  to  deviate.  Let  us  enter  on  the 
race  of  salvation,  if  we  have  had  the  presump- 
tion to  defer  our  entrance  into  it  to  the  present 
period.  Let  us  run  with  patience  the  race,  if 
we  have  already  made  a  progress;  and  lot  the 


Ser.  LXXXV.] 


ON  THE  COVENANT  OF  GOD,  &c. 


301 


most  Christians.  We  never  ascend  tiie  piiljiit, 
but  it  seems  that  we  address  you  for  tlie  ):i.st 
time.  It  seems  that  wo  should  e.xiiaust  tlie 
whole  of  religion,  to  pluck  our  heroes  from 
the  world,  and  never  let  them  go  till  we  have 
intrusted  them  in  the  arms  of  Jesus  Christ.  It 
seems  that  we  should  hid  you  an  eternal  fare- 
well; that  we  are  stretched  on  our  bed  of 
death,  and  that  you  are  in  a  similar  situation. 

Yes,  Christians,  this  is  the  only  moment  on 
which  we  can  reckon.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  only 
acceplttble  time.  It  is,  perhaps,  llie  last  day  of 
our  risitalion.  Let  us  im])rove  a  period  so 
precious.  Let  us  no  longer  say, — by  and  by 
— at  another  time;  but  let  us — to-day — this 
moment — even  now.  Let  the  pastor  say,  I 
have  been  insipid  in  my  sermons,  and  remiss 
in  my  conduct;  having  been  more  solicitous, 
during  the  exercise  of  my  ministry,  to  advance 
my  family,  than  to  build  up  the  Lord's  house.  I 
will  preach  hereafter  with  fervour  and  with  zeal. 
I  will  be  vigilant,  sober,  rigorous,  and  disin- 
terested. Let  the  miser  say,  I  have  riches  ill 
acquired.  I  will  purge  my  house  with  illicit 
wealth.  I  will  overturn  the  altar  of  Mammon, 
and  erect  another  to  the  Supreme  Jehovah. 
Let  the  prodigal  say,  I  will  extinguish  tiie  un- 
happy fires  by  which  I  am  consumed,  and 
kindle  in  my  bosom  the  flame  of  divine  love. 
Ah,  unhappy  passions,  which  war  against  my 
soul;  sordid  attachments;  irregular  propensi- 
ties; emotions  of  concupiscence;  law  in  tlie 
members;  I  will  know  you  no  more.  I  will 
make  with  you  an  eternal  divorce,  I  vi'ill  from 
this  moment  open  my  heart  to  the  Eternal 
Wisdom,  who  condescends  to  ask  it. 

If  we  are  in  this  happy  disposition,  if  we 
thus  become  regenerate,  we  shall  enjoy  from 
this  moment  foretastes  of  the  glory,  which 
God  has  prepared.  From  this  moment,  the 
truths  of  religion,  so  far  from  casting  discour- 
agement and  terror  on  the  soul,  shall  heighten 
its  consolation  and  joy;  from  this  moment, 
heaven  shall  open  on  this  audience,  paradise 
shall  descend  into  your  heart,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  shall  come  and  dwell  there.  He  will 
bring  that  peace,  and  those  joys,  which  pass 
all  understanding.  And,  commencing  our  fe- 
licity on  earth,  he  will  give  us  the  earnest  of 
his  consummation.  God  grant  us  the  grace! 
To  him,  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  be 
honour  and  glory,  now  and  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXV. 


ON  THE  COVENANT  OF   GOD  WITH 
THE  ISRAELITES. 


Deut.  xxi.x.  10 — 19. 
Ye  stand  this  day  all  of  you  before  the  Lm-d  your 
God;  your  captains  of  your  tribes,  your  elders, 
and  your  officers,  with  all  the  men  of  Isi-ael, 
your  little  ones,  your  icives,  and  thy  stranger 
that  is  in  thy  camp,  from  thy  heicer  of  wood, 
unto  the  drawer  of  thy  water:  that  thou  should- 
est  enter  into  covenant  with  the  Lord  thy  God, 
and  into  his  oath  which  the  Lord  thy  God 
maketh  with  thee  this  day:  that  he  may  establish 
thee  to-day,  for  a  people  unto  himself:  and  that 
he  may  be  unto  thee  a  God,  as  he  hath  been  unto 


thee,  and  as  he  hath  sworn  unto  thy  fathers,  to 
Abiaham,  to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob.  »Vf tf/ier  with 
you  only  do  I  make  this  covenant  and  this  oath; 
but  with  him  that  standeth  here  xcith  us  this  day 
before  the  Lord  your  God,  and  also  tcith  him 
that  is  not  here  this  day  (for  ye  knoxc  that  we 
lidve  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Epypt,  and  how  we 
came  through  the  natioits  which  ye  passed  by. 
»'7ïi(Z  ije  hare  seen  their  abominations,  and  their 
idols,  wood  and  stone,  silver  and  gold,  ichich 
tcere  amon<:ç  them:)  lest  there  should  be  among 
you  man  or  woman,  or  family,  or  tribe,  whose 
heart  tumeth  away  this  day  from  the  Lord  your 
God,  to  go  and  serre  the  gods  of  these  nations; 
lest  there  should  lie  among  you  a  root  that  bear- 
eth  gall  and  wormwood,  and  it  come  to  pass, 
when  he  heureth  the  words  of  this  curse,  that  he 
bless  himself  in  his  heart,  saying,  I  shall  have 
peace  though  1  walk  in  the  imagination  of  mine 
heart. 

Mv  brethren,  tliis  sabbath  is  a  covenant-day 
between  God  and  us.  This  is  the  design  of 
our  sacraments;  and  the  particular  design  of  the 
holy  supper  we  have  celebrated  in  the  morning 
service.  So  our  catcchists  teach;  so  our  chil- 
dren understand;  and  among  the  less  instructed 
of  this  assembly  there  is  scarcely  one,  if  we 
should  ask  him  what  is  a  sacrament,  but  would 
answer,  "  it  is  a  symbol  of  the  covenant  be- 
tween God  and  Christians." 

This  being  understood,  we  cannot  observe 
without  astonishment  the  slight  attention,  most 
men  pay  to  an  institution,  of  which  they  seem 
to  entertain  such  exalted  notions.  The  ten- 
dency would  not  be  happy  in  conciliating  your 
attention  to  the  discourse,  were  I  to  commence 
by  a  humiliating  portrait  of  the  manners  of  the 
age;  in  which  some  of  you  would  have  occa- 
sion to  recognise  your  own  character.  But  the 
fact  is  certain,  and  I  appeal  to  your  consciences. 
Do  we  take  the  same  precaution  in  contracting 
a  covenant  with  God  in  the  eucharist,  which  is 
exercised  in  a  treaty  on  which  the  prosperity 
of  the  state,  or  domestic  happiness  depends? 
When  the  latter  is  in  question,  we  confer  with 
experienced  men,  we  weigh  the  terms,  and  in- 
vestigate with  all  possible  sagacity,  what  is 
stipulated  to  us,  and  what  we  stipulate  in  re- 
turn. But  when  we  come  to  renew  the  high 
covenant,  in  which  the  immortal  God  conde- 
scends to  be  our  God,  in  which  we  devote  our- 
selves to  him,  we  deem  the  slightest  examina- 
tion every  way  sufficient.  We  frequently  even 
repel  with  indignation  a  judicious  man,  who 
would  venture,  by  way  of  caution,  to  ask, 
"What  are  you  going  to  do?  What  engage- 
ments are  you  about  to  form?  What  calamities 
are  you  about  to  bring  on  yourselvea-" 

One  grand  cause  of  this  defect,  proceeds,  it 
is  presumed,  from  our  having  for  the  most  part, 
inadequate  notions  of  what  is  called  contract- 
ing, or  renewing,  our  covenant  with  God. 
We  commonly  confound  the  terms,  by  vague 
or  confused  notions:  hence  one  of  the  best  re- 
medies we  can  apply  to  an  evil  so  general,  is 
to  explain  their  import  with  precision.  Having 
searched  from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  for  the 
happiest  text  affording  a  system  complete  and 
clear  on  the  subject,  I  have  fi.\ed  on  the  words 
you  have  heard.  They  are  part  of  the  dis- 
course Moses  addressed  to  the  Israelites,  when 
he  arrived  on  the  frontiers  of  the  promised 


303 


ON  THE  COVENANT  OF  GOD 


[Ser.  LXXXV. 


land,  and  was  about  to  give  an  account  of  tlic  I  Clirist  as  some  of  them  also  tempted,  and  were 


most  important  ministry  God  had  ever  entrust 
ed  to  any  mortal. 

I  enter  now  upon  the  subject.  And  after 
having  again  implored  llic  aid  of  Heaven;  after 
having  conjured  yon,  by  the  compassion  of 
God,  who  tliis  day  pours  upon  us  such  an  abun- 
dance of  favours,  to  give  so  important  a  subject 
the  consideration  it  deserves;  I  lay  down  at 
once  a  principle  generally  received  among 
Christians.  The  legal,  and  the  evangelical 
covenant.  The  covenant  God  contracted  with 
the  Israelites  by  the  ministry  of  Moses,  and 


destroyed  of  serpents.  Neither  murmur  ye,  as 
some  of  thein  also  murmured,  and  were  destroy- 
ed of  the  destroyer,"  1  Cor.  x  6 — 10.  You 
know  the  language  of  St.  Paul. 

Fartlier  still:  whatever  superiority  onr  con- 
dition may  have  over  the  Jews;  in  whatever 
more  attracting  manner  he  may  have  now  re- 
vealed himself  to  us;  whatever  more  tender 
bands,  and  gracious  cords  of  love  God  may 
have  employed,  to  use  an  expression  of  a  pro- 
phet, will  serve  only  to  augment  our  misery,  if 
we  prove  unfaithful.    "  For  if  the  word  spoken 


the  covenant  he  has  contracted  this  morninc    by  angels  was  steadfast,  and  every  transgression 


with  J'en,  differ  only  in  circumstances,  being 
in  substance  the  same.  Properly  speaking, 
God  has  contracted  but  one  covenant  with 
man  since  the  fall,  the  covenant  of  grace  upon 
Mount  Sinai;  whose  terrific  glory  induced  the 
Israelites  to  say,  "  Let  not  God  speak  with  us, 
lest  we  die,"  Exod.  xx.  19.  Amid  so  much 
lightnings  and  thunders,  devouring  fire,  dark- 
ness and  tempest;  and  notwithstanding  this  pro- 
hibition, which  apparently  precluded  all  inter- 
course between  God  and  sinful  man,  "Take 
heed — go  not  up  into  the  mount,  or  touch  the 
border  of  it:  there  shall  not  a  hand  touch  it, 
but  he  shall  surely  be  stoned,  or  shot  through;" 
upon  this  mountain,  I  say,  in  this  barren  wil- 
derness, were  instituted  the  tendcrest  ties  God 
ever  formed  with  his  creature:  amid  the  awful 
punishments  which  we  see  so  frequently  fall 
upon  those  rebellious  men;  amid  fiery  serpents 
which  exhaled  against  them  a  pestilential  breath, 
God  shed  upon  them  the  same  grace  he  so 
abundantly  pours  on  our  assemblies.  The  Is- 
raelites, to  whom  Moses  addresses  the  words 
of  my  text,  had  the  same  sacraments:  they 
"  were  all  baptized  in  the  cloud;  they  did  all 
drink  the  same  spiritual  drink;  for  they  drank 
of  that  spiritual  rock  which  followed  them,  and 
that  rock  was  Christ,"  1  Cor.  x.  2,  3.  The 
same  appellations;  it  was  said  to  them  as  to 
you,  "If  ye  will  obey  my  voice  indeed,  and 
keep  my  covenant,  then  ye  shall  be  a  peculiar 
treasure  unto  me  above  all  people,  for  all  the 
earth  ie  mine,"  Exod.  xix.  6.  The  same  pro- 
mises; for  "  they  saw  the  promises  afar  off,  and 
embraced  them,"  Hcb.  xi.  13. 

On  the  other  hand,  amid  the  consolatory  ob- 
jects which  God  displays  before  us  at  this  pe- 
riod, in  distinguished  lustre;  and  notwithstand- 
ing these  gracious  words  which  resound  in  this 
church,  "Grace,  grace  unto  it."  Notwith- 
standing this  engaging  voice,  "  Come  unto  me 
all  yc  that  labour,  and  are  heavy  laden;"  and 
amid  the  abundant  mercy  we  have  seen  dis- 
played this  morning  at  the  Lord's  table;  if  we 
should  violate  the  covenant  he  has  establisiied 
with  us,  you  have  the  same  cause  of  fear  as  the 
Jews.  We  have  the  same  Judge,  equally  aw- 
ful now,  as  at  that  period;  "  for  our  God  is  a 
consuming  fire,"  Ileb.  xii.  29.  We  have  the 
same  judgments  to  apprehend.  "  With  many 
of  them,  God  was  not  well  jdeased;  for  they 
were  overthrown  in  the  wilderness.  Now 
these  things  were  for  our  examples,  to  the  in- 
tent we  should  not  lust  after  evil  things,  as 
they  also  lusted.  Neither  bo  ye  idolaters,  as 
some  of  them.  Neither  let  us  couunit  fornica- 
tion as  some  of  them  committed,  and  fell  in 
4>ne  day  twenty  thousand.   Neither  let  us  tempt 


and  disobedience  received  a  just  recompense  of 
reward,  how  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so 
great  salvation?"  Heb.  ii.  2,  3.  "  For  ye  are 
not  come  unto  the  mountain  tliat  might  bo 
touciied,  and  that  burned  with  fire,  nor  unto 
blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tempest,  and  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  the  voice  of  words, 
which  voice  they  that  heard,  entreated  that  the 
word  should  not  be  spoken  to  them  any  more. 
I3ut  ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jeru- 
salem, and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  an- 
gels, to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-born,  wiiich  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to 
God  the  judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  Mediator 
of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of 
sprinkling,  tliat  speaketh  better  things  than 
that  of  Abel.  See  that  yc  refiise  not  him  that 
speaketh:  for  if  thej'  escaped  not  who  refused 
him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not 
we  escape,  if  we  turn  away  from  him  that 
speaketh  from  heaven,"  Heb.  xii.  18 — -'5. 

Hence  the  principle  respecting  the  legal,  and 
evangelical  covenant  is  indisputable.  The  co- 
venant God  formerly  contracted  with  the  Is- 
raelites by  the  ministry  of  Moses,  and  the  cove- 
nant he  has  made  with  us  this  morning  in  the 
sacrament  of  the  holy  supper  are  but  one  cove- 
nant. And  what  the  legislator  said  of  the  first, 
in  the  words  of  my  text,  we  may  say  of  the  se- 
cond, in  the  explication  we  shall  give.  Now, 
my  brethren,  this  faithful  servant  of  God  re- 
quired the  Israelites  to  consider  five  things  in 
the  covenant  tiiey  contracted  with  their  Maker. 

I.  The  sanctity  of  the  [)lace:  "  Ye  stand  this 
day  all  of  you  before  the  Lord;  that  is,  before 
his  ark,  the  most  august  symbol  of  his  presence." 

II.  Tiie  universality  of  the  contract:  "Ye 
stand  this  day  all  of  you  betore  the  Lord,  the 
captains  of  your  tribes,  ^-our  ciders,  your  of- 
ficers, and  all  the  men  of  Israel:  your  little 
ones,  your  wives,  and  the  stranger  who  is  in 
tiie  midst  of  your  camp,  from  the  hower  of 
wood  to  the  drawer  of  water." 

III.  Its  mutual  oi)ligation:  "  That  he  may, 
on  the  one  hand,  establish  thee  to-day  for  a 
jieople  unto  himself;  and  on  the  other,  that  he 
may  be  unto  thee  a  God." 

IV.  The  extent  of  tlic  engagement:  an  en- 
gagement with  reserve.  God  covenants  to 
give  himself  to  the  Israelites,  as  he  had  sworn 
to  their  fathers,  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob. 
The  Israelites  covenant  to  give  themselves  to 
God,  and  abjure  not  only  gross,  but  refined 
idolatry.  Take  heed,  "  lest  there  should  bo 
among  you  man  or  woman,  or  family,  or  tribe, 
whoso  heart  turnetli  away  this  day  from  the 


Ser.  LXXXV. 


WITH  THE  ISRAELITES. 


303 


Lord  your  God,  to  go  and  servo  the  gods  of 
these  nations;  lest  there  should  ho  among  you 
a  root  that  iiearelii  gall  and  wormwood." 

V.  The  oath  of  the  covenant;  "  Thou  enter- 
est  into  the  covenant  and  the  execration  by  an 
oath." 

1.  Moses  required  the  Israelites  to  consider 
the  sanctity  of  the  place  in  which  the. covenant 
was  contracted  with  God.  It  was  consecrated 
by  the  divine  presence.  "  Ye  stand  this  day  all 
of  you  before  the  Jjord."  Not  only  in  tiie  vague 
sense  in  which  we  say  of  all  our  words  and  ac- 
tions, "  God  sees  me;  God  hears  me;  all  things 
are  naked  and  open  to  him  in  whose  presence 
I  stand;"  hut  in  a  sense  more  confined.  Tiie 
Most  liigh  dwells  not  in  human  temples. 
"  What  is  the  hou.se  ye  build  to  mc,  and  where 
is  the  place  of  my  rest?  Behold  the  heaven  and 
the  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  thee, 
much  less  the  house  that  1  have  built."  lie 
chose,  however,  the  Tabernacle  for  his  habita- 
tion, and  the  Ark  for  his  throne.  There  he  de- 
livered his  oracles;  there  he  issued  his  supremo 
commands.  Moses  assembled  the  Israelites,  it 
is  presumed,  near  to  this  majestic  pavilion  of 
the  Deity,  when  he  addressed  to  them  the  words 
of  my  te.xt;  at  least  1  think  I  can  prove,  from 
correspondent  passages  of  Scripture,  that  this  is 
the  true  acceptation  of  the  expression,  "  Before 
the  Lord." 

The  Christians  having  more  enlightened  no- 
tions of  the  Divinity  than  the  Jews,  have  the 
less  need  to  be  a|)|)riz(;d  tliat  God  is  an  omni- 
present Being,  and  uncoiifined  by  local  resi- 
dences. We  have  been  taught  by  Jesus  Christ, 
that  the  true  worsliippers  restrict  not  their  de- 
votion to  Mount  Zion,  nor  Mount  Gerizim; 
they  worship  God  in  sjiirit  and  in  truth.  But 
let  us  be  cautious,  lest,  under  a  pretence  of  re- 
moving some  superstitious  notions,  we  refine 
too  far.  God  presides  in  a  peculiar  manner  in 
our  temples,  and  in  a  peculiar  manner  even 
"where  two  or  three  are  met  together  in  his 
name:"  more  especially  in  a  house  consecrated 
to  his  glory;  more  especially  in  places  in  which 
a  whole  nation  come  to  pay  their  devotion. 
The  more  august  and  solemn  our  worship,  the 
more  is  God  intimately  near.  And  what  part 
of  the  worship  we  render  to  God,  can  be  moic 
august  than  that  we  have  celebrated  this  morn- 
ing? In  wliat  situation  can  the  thought,  "  I  am 
seen  and  heard  of  God;"  in  what  situation  can 
it  impress  our  hearts  if  it  have  not  impressed 
them  this  morning? 

God,  in  contracting  this  covenant  with  the 
Israelites  on  Sinai,  which  Moses  induced  tiiem 
to  renew  in  the  words  of  my  text,  apprized  tliem 
that  he  would  be  found  upon  that  holy  hill. 
He  said  to  Moses,  "  Lo  I  come  unto  thee  in  a 
thick  cloud,  that  the  people  may  hear  when  I 
speak  with  thee,  and  believe  thee  for  ever.  Go 
unto  the  people,  and  sanctify  them  to-day,  and 
to-morrow,  and  let  them  wasii  their  clothes, 
and  be  ready  against  the  third  day:  for  the  third 
day  the  Lord  will  come  down  in  the  sight  of  all 
the  people,  upon  Mount  Sinai,"  Exod.  xix.  9. 
It  is  said  expressly,  that  Nadaband  Abiliu,  and 
the  seventy  elders,  should  ascend  the  hill,  and 


in  its  clearness;"  an  emblem  which  God  chose 
perhaps,  because  sap[)hire  was  among  the  Egyp- 
tians an  emblem  of  royalty;  as  is  apparent  in 
the  writings  of  those  who  have  preserved  the 
hieroglyphics  of  tliat  nation. 

The  eyes  of  your  understanding,  were  not 
they  also  enlightened  this  morning.*     God  was 
present  at  this  house;  he  was  seated  here  on  a 
throne,  more  luminous  than  the  brightest  sap- 
])liirc,  and  amid  the  myriads  of  his  host.    It  was 
before  tlie  presence  of  the  Lord  descended  in 
this  temple  as  on  Sinai  in  holiness,  that  we  ap- 
peared this  morning;  when,  Ijy  the  august  sym- 
bols of  the  body  and  blood  of  the  lledeemer  of 
mankind,  we  came  again  to  take  the  oath  of 
fidelity  we  have  so  often  uttered,  and  so  often 
broken.     It  was  in  the  presence  of  God  that 
thou  didst  appear,  contrite  heart!    Penitent  sin- 
ner! he  discerned  thy  sorrows,  he  collected  thy 
tears,  he  attested  thy  repentance.     It  was  in 
the  presence  of  the  I.,ord  thy  God  that  thoa 
didst  appear,   hypocrite!      Ho  unmasked  thy 
countenance,   ho   pierced    the    specious   veils 
which  covered  thy  wretched  heart.     It  was  in 
the   presence  of  the  Lord  thy  God  that  thou 
didst  appear,  wicked  man!     Thou,  who  in  the 
very  act  of  seeming  to  celebrate  this  sacrament 
of  love,  which  should  have  united  thee  to  thy 
brother  as  the  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit  to  Da- 
vid, wouldst  have  crushed  him  under  thy  feet. 
What  a  motive  to  attention,  to  recollection! 
What  a  motive  to  banish  all  vain  thoughts, 
which  so  frequently  interrupt  our  most  sacred 
exercises!     What  a  motive  to  exclaim,  as  the 
patriarch  Jacob,  "  How  dreadful  is  this  place! 
Tliis  is  none  other  than  tl)o  house  of  God,  and 
this  is  the  gate  of  heaven." 

II.  Moses  required  the  Israelites  in  renewing 
their  covenant  with  God,  to  consider  the  uni- 
versality of  the  contract.    "  Ye  stand  all  of  you 
before  the  Lord."    The  Hebrew  by  descent,  and 
the  strangers;  that  is,  tlie  proselytes,  the  heads 
of  houses,  and  the  hewers  of  wood,  and  drawers 
of  water;  those  who  filled  the  most  distinguished 
offices,  and  those  who  performed  the  meanest 
services  in  the  commonwealth  of  Israel;  the  wo- 
men and  the  children;  in  a  word,  the  whole 
without  e.xceptionof  tiiose  who  belonged  to  the 
])cople  of  God.    Itiswortliy  of  remark,  my  bre- 
thren, that  God,  on  prescribing  the  principal 
ceremonies  of  tlie  law,  required  every  soul  who 
refused  submission  to  be  cut  off,  that  is,  to  sus- 
tain an  awful  anathema.     He  hereby  signified, 
that  no  one  should  claim   the  privileges  of  an 
Israelite,  without  conformity  to  all  the  institu- 
tions he  had  prescribed.     So  persuaded  were 
the  j)eople  of  this  trutii,  that  they  would  have 
rejrarded  as  a  monster,  and  punished  as  a  de- 
linquent, any  man,  whether  an  Israelite  by 
choice,  or  descent,  who  had  refused  conformity 
to  the  passions,  and  attendance  on  the  solemn 
festivals. 

Would  to  God  tliat  Christians  entertained  the 
same  sentiments!  Would  to  God,  that  your 
preachers  could  say,  on  sacramental  occasions, 
as  Moses  said  to  the  Jews  in  the  memorable  dis- 
course we  apply  to  you:  "  Ye  stand  all  of  you 
this  day  before  the  Lord  your  God;  the  captains 


contract  the  covenant  with  God  in  the  name  of  of  yoiu-  tribes,  your  elders,  your  officers,  your 
the  whole  congregation;  they  saw  evident  marks  I  wives,  your  little  ones,  from  the  hewer  of  wood 
of  the  Divine  presence,  "  a  paved  work  of  sap»-  |  to  the  drawer  of  water."  But  alas!  how  de- 
phire-stone,  and  as  it  were  the  body  of  heaven  I  fective  are  our  assemblies  on  those  solemn  oc- 


304 


ON  THE  COVENANT  OF  GOD 


[Ser.  LXXXV, 


casions!  But  alas!  where  were  you,  temporizers, 
Nicodemuses,  timorous  souls?  Where  have  you 
been?  it  is  tiow  a  fortnight  since  you  appeared 
before  tlie  Lord  your  God,  to  renew  your  cove- 
nant with  him.  Ah!  degenerate  men,  worthy 
of  the  most  pointed  and  mortifying  reproof,  such 
as  that  which  Deborali  addressed  to  Reuben: 
Why  didst  thou  stay  "  among  the  sheep-folds, 
to  hear  tiie  bleating  of  the  flocks,"  Judges  v.  16. 
You  were  with  your  gold,  with  your  silver,  sor- 
did objects,  to  which  you  pay  in  this  nation  the 
homage  which  God  peculiarly  requires  in  cli- 
mates 60  happy.  You  were,  perhaps,  in  the 
temple  of  superstition;  while  we  were  assembled 
in  the  house  of  the  Most  High.  You  were  in 
Egypt,  preferring  the  garlic  and  onions  to  the 
milk  and  honey  of  Canaan;  while  we  were  on 
the  borders  of  tiie  promised  land,  to  which  God 
was  about  to  give  us  admission. 

Poor  children  of  tiiose  unhappy  fathers! 
Where  were  you,  while  we  devoted  our  ofl- 
spring  to  God  who  gave  them;  wiiile  we  led 
those  for  admission  to  his  table,  who  were  ade- 
quately instructed;  while  we  prayed  for  the  fu- 
ture admission  of  those  who  are  yet  deprived 
by  reason  of  their  tender  age?  Ah!  you  were 
victims  to  the  indifference,  the  cares,  and  ava- 
rice of  those  who  gave  you  birth!  You  are  as- 
sociated by  them  with  those  who  are  enemies 
to  the  reformed  name;  who,  unable  to  convince 
the  fathers,  hope,  at  least,  to  convince  the  chil- 
dren, and  to  extinguish  m  their  hearts  tiie  mi- 
nutest sparks  of  truth!  O  God!  if  thy  justice 
have  already  cut  off'  those  unworthy  fathers, 
spare,  at  least,  according  to  thy  clemency,  these 
unoffending  creatures,  wlio  know  not  yet  their 
rigiit  hand  from  tiieir  left;  whom  they  would 
detach  from  thy  communion,  before  they  are 
acquainted  with  its  purity! 

Would  to  God  that  this  was  all  the  cause  of 
our  complaint!  (3h!  where  were  you,  while  we 
celebrated  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper? 
You,  inhabitants  of  these  provinces,  born  of  re- 
formed families,  professors  of  the  reformation! 
You,  who  arc  married,  vviio  arc  engaged  in  bu- 
siness, who  have  attained  the  age  of  forty  or 
fifty  years,  without  ever  participating  of  the 
holy  eucliarist!  There  was  a  time,  my  bre- 
thren, among  the  Jews,  when  a  man  who  should 
have  had  tiie  assurance  to  neglect  the  rites 
which  constituted  tlie  essence  of  the  law,  would 
have  been  cut  off"  from  the  people.  This  law 
has  varied  in  regard  to  circumstances;  but  in 
essence  it  still  subsists,  and  in  all  its  force.  Let 
him  apply  this  observation,  to  whom  it  pecu- 
liarly belongs. 

III.  Moses  required  the  Israelites,  in  renew- 
ing their  covenant  witii  God,  to  consider  what 
constituted  its  essence:  wliicii,  according  to  tiic 
views  of  the  Lawgiver,  was  the  reciprocal  en- 
gagement. Be  attentive  to  tiiis  term  reciprocal; 
it  is  the  soul  of  my  delinition.  What  consti- 
tutes the  essence  of  a  covenant,  is  tiie  reciprocal 
engagements  of  tiic  contracting  parties.  This 
is  obvious  from  tiie  words  of  my  text;  thai  thou 
shouldst  (stipulate  or)  enter.  Here  we  distinctly 
find  inul\iul  conditions;  here  we  distinctly  find 
that  God  engaged  witii  the  Israelites  to  be  tiieir 
God;  and  tlicy  engaged  to  be  his  people.  Wo 
proved,  at  the  coimnenrement  of  this  discourse, 
that  the  covenant  of  God  with  the  Israelites, 
was  in  substance  tlic  same  as  that  contracted 


with  Christians.  This  being  considered,  what 
idea  ought  we  to  form  of  those  Christians  (if  we 
may  give  that  name  to  men  who  can  entertain 
such  singular  notions  of  Christianity,)  who  ven- 
tured to  affirm,  that  the  ideas  of  conditions,  and 
reciprocal  enga<!;emenls,  are  dangerous  expres- 
sions, when  applied  to  the  evangelical  covenant; 
that  what  distinguishes  the  Jews  from  Chris- 
tians is,  that  God  then  promised  and  required; 
whereas  now  he  promises,  but  requires  nothing. 
My  brethren,  had  1  devoted  my  studies  to  com- 
pose a  history  of  the  eccentricities  of  the  human 
mind,  I  should  have  deemed  it  my  duty  to  have 
bestowed  several  years  in  reading  the  books,  in 
which  those  systems  are  contained,  that  I  might 
have  marked  to  posterity  the  precise  degrees  to 
which  men  are  capable  of  carrying  such  odious 
opinions.  But  having  diverted  tiiem  to  other 
pursuits,  little,  it  is  confessed,  have  I  read  of 
tills  sort  of  works:  and  all  1  know  of  the  subject 
may  nearly  be  reduced  to  this,  that  there  are 
persons  in  these  provinces  who  both  read  and 
believe  them. 

Without  attacking  by  a  long  course  of  causes 
and  consequences,  a  system  so  destructive  of 
itself,  we  will  content  ourselves  with  a  single 
test.  Let  them  produce  a  single  passage  from 
the  Scriptures,  in  which  God  requires  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge,  and  engages  to  bestow 
it,  witliout  tiie  least  fatigue  of  reading,  study, 
and  reflection.  Let  them  produce  a  passage, 
in  which  God  requires  us  to  possess  certain  vir- 
tues, and  engages  to  communicate  them,  with- 
out enjoining  us  to  subdue  our  senses,  our  tem- 
perature, our  passions,  our  inclination,  in  order 
that  we  may  attain  them.  Let  them  produce 
one  passage  from  the  Scriptures  to  prove,  that 
God  requires  us  to  be  saved  by  tlie  merits  of 
Jesus  (Christ,  and  engages  to  do  it,  without  the 
sligiitest  sorrow  for  our  past  sins, — without  the 
least  reparation  of  our  crimes, — without  pre- 
cautionary measures  to  avoid  them, — without 
the  qualifying  dispositions  to  participate  the 
fruits  of  his  passions.  What  am  1  saying!  Let 
them  produce  a  text  which  overturns  llie  hun- 
dred, and  the  hundred  more  passages  which  we 
op()ose  to  this  gross  supralapsarian  system,  and 
Willi  which  we  are  ever  ready  to  confront  its 
advocates. 

We  have  said,  my  brethren,  that  this  system 
destroys  itself  Hence  it  was  less  with  a  view 
to  attack  it,  that  we  destined  this  article,  than 
to  apprize  some  among  you  of  having  adopted 
it,  at  the  very  moment  you  dream  that  you  re- 
ject and  abhor  it.  We  often  fall  into  the  error 
of  the  ancient  Israelites;  frequently  forming  as 
erroneous  notions  of  the  covenant  which  God 
has  contracted  with  us,  as  they  did  of  that  he 
had  contracted  with  tliem.  This  people  had 
violated  the  stipulations  in  a  manner  the  most 
notorious  in  tlie  world.  God  did  not  fulfil  his 
engagements  with  them,  because  they  refused 
to  fultil  their  engagements  to  him.  He  re- 
sumed the  blessings  he  had  so  abundantly 
poured  upon  them;  and,  instead  of  ascribing  the 
cause  to  themselves,  they  had  the  assurance  to 
ascribe  it  to  liini.  They  said,  "  The  temple  of 
the  Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,"  Jer.  vii.  -1.  We  are  the  children 
of  Abraham;  forget  not  thy  covenant. — And 
how  often  have  not  similar  sentiments  been 
cherished  in  our  hearts?    How  often  has  not  the 


SfiR.  LXXXV.] 


WITH  THE  ISRAELITES. 


305 


same  language  been  heard  proceeding  from  our 
lips?  How  often,  at  the  moment  we  violate 
our  baptismal  vows;  at  the  moment  we  are  so 
far  depraved  as  to  falsify  the  oath  of  fidelity 
we  have  taken  in  the  holy  sacrament;  how 
often,  in  short,  does  it  not  happen,  that  at  the 
moment  wo  break  our  covenant  with  God,  we 
require  him  to  bo  faithful  by  alleginij — the 
cross — the  satisfaction — the  blood  of  Jesus 
Clirisl.  Ah!  wretched  man!  fulfil  thou  the 
conditions  to  which  thou  hast  subscribed;  and 
God  will  fulfil  those  he  has  imposed  on  him- 
self I3e  thou  mindful  of  thy  engagements, 
and  God  will  not  be  forgetful  of  his.  Hence, 
what  constitutes  the  essence  of  a  covenant  is, 
the  mutual  stipulations  of  the  contracting  par- 
ties.    This  is  what  we  engaged  to  prove. 

IV.  Moses  required  the  Israelites  to  consider, 
in  renewing  their  covenant  with  God,  the  ex- 
tent of  the  engagement:  "'Tliat  thou  shouldest 
enter  into  covenant  with  the  Lord  thy  God, 
and  into  his  oath;  that  he  may  establish  thee 
to-day  for  a  people  unto  himself;  and  that  he 
may  bo  unto  thee  a  God."  This  engagement 
of  God  with  the  Jesvs  implies,  that  he  would 
be  their  God;  or  to  comprehend  the  whole  in 
a  single  word,  tliat  he  would  procure  them 
a  happiness  correspondent  to  the  eminence  of 
his  perfections.  Cases  occur,  in  which  tlie  at- 
tributes of  God  are  at  variance  with  the  hap- 
piness of  men.  It  implies,  for  instance,  an  in- 
consistency with  the  divine  perfections,  not 
only  that  the  wicked  should  be  happy,  but  also 
that  the  righteous  should  have  perfect  feli- 
city, while  their  purity  is  incomplete.  There 
are  miseries  inseparable  from  our  imperfections 
in  holiness;  and,  imperfections  being  coeval 
■with  life,  our  happiness  will  be  incomplete  till 
after  death.  On  the  removal  of  this  obstruc- 
tion, by  virtue  of  the  covenant,  God  having 
engaged  to  be  our  God,  we  sliall  attain  supreme 
felicity.  Hence  our  Saviour  proved  by  tliis 
argument,  that  Abraham  should  rise  from  the 
dead,  the  Lord  having  said  to  Moses,  "  I  am 
the  God  of  Abraham;  God  is  not  the  God  of 
the  dead,  but  of  the  living,"  Matt,  x.xii.  32. 
This  assertion,  "  I  am  the  God  of  Abraham," 
proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  tiie  Supreme 
Being,  was  equivalent  to  a  promise  of  making 
Abraiiam  perfectly  happy.  Now  he  could  not 
be  perfectly  happy,  so  long  as  the  body  to 
which  nature  had  united  him,  was  the  victim 
of  corruption.  Therefore,  Abraham  must  rise 
from  the  dead. 

When  God  engaged  with  the  Israelites,  the 
Israelites  engaged  with  God.  Their  covenant 
implies,  that  they  should  be  his  people;  that  is, 
that  they  should  obey  his  precepts  so  far  as 
human  frailty  would  admit.  By  virtue  of  this 
clause,  they  engaged  not  only  to  abstain  from 
gross  idolatry,  but  also  to  eradicate  the  princi- 
ple. Keep  this  distinction  in  view:  it  is  clearly 
expressed  in  my  text.  "  Ye  have  seen  their 
abominations,  and  their  idols,  wood  and  stone, 
silver  and  gold."  Take  heed,  "  lest  there 
should  be  among  you  man  or  woman,  or  family, 
or  tribe,  whose  heart  turneth  away  from  the 
Lord,  to  go  and  serve  the  gods  of  these  na- 
tions." Here  is  the  gross  act  of  idolatry. 
"  Lest  there  should  bo  among  you  a  root  that 
bearetii  gall  and  wormwood."  Here  is  the 
principle.     I  would  not  enter  into  a  critical 

Vol.  II.— 39 


illustration  of  the  original  terms  which  our 
versions  render  "gall  and  wormwood."  They 
include  a  metaphor  taken  from  a  man,  who, 
finding  in  his  field  weeds  pernicious  to  his 
grain,  should  crop  the  strongest,  but  neglect- 
ing to  eradicate  the  jilant,  incurs  the  incon- 
venience he  wisiied  to  avoid. 

The  metaphor  is  pertinent.  In  every  crime 
we  consider  both  the  plant  and  the  root  pro- 
ductive of  gall  and  wormw  ood;  or,  if  you  please, 
tlie  crime  itself,  and  the  principle  which  pro- 
duced it.  It  is  not  enough  to  crop,  we  must 
eradicate.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  exempt  from 
crimes,  we  must  exterminate  the  principle. 
For  example,  in  tlieft,  tiiere  is  both  the  root, 
and  the  plant  productive  of  wormwood  and 
gall.  There  is  thefl  gross  and  refined;  the  act 
of  theft,  and  the  principle  of  theft.  To  steal 
the  goods  of  a  neighbour  is  the  act,  the  gross 
act  of  thefl;  but,  to  indulge  an  exorbitant 
wish  for  the  acquisition  of  wealth; — to  make 
enormous  charges; — to  resist  the  solicitations 
of  a  creditor  for  payment; — to  be  indelicate  as 
to  the  means  of  gaining  money; — to  reject  the 
mortifying  claims  of  restitution,  is  refined  fraud; 
or,  if  you  please,  the  principle  of  fraud  produc- 
tive of  wormwood  and  gall. — It  is  the  same 
with  regard  to  impurity;  there  is  the  act  and 
the  principle.  The  direct  violation  of  the 
command,  ■'  thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery," 
is  the  gross  act.  But  to  form  intimate  con- 
nexions with  persons  habituated  to  the  vice,  to 
read  licentious  novels,  to  sing  immodest  songs, 
to  indulge  wanton  airs,  is  that  refined  impurity, 
that  principle  of  the  gross  act,  that  root  which 
speedily  produces  wormwood  and  gall. 

V.  Moses  lastly  required  the  Israelites  to 
consider  the  oath  and  execration  with  which 
their  acceptance  of  the  covenant  was  attend- 
ed: "  that  thou  shouldest  enter  into  covenant," 
and  into  this  oath.  What  is  meant  by  their 
entering  into  the  oath  of  execration.'  That 
they  pledged  themselves  by  oath,  to  fulfil 
every  clause  of  the  covenant;  and  in  case  of 
violation,  to  subject  themselves  to  all  the  curses 
God  had  denounced  against  those  who  should 
be  guilty  of  so  perfidious  a  crime. 

And,  if  you  would  have  an  adequate  idea  of 
those  curses,  read  the  awful  chapter  preceding 
that  from  which  we  have  taken  our  text,  "  It" 
thou  wilt  not  hearken  unto  the  voice  of  the  Lord 
thy  God,  to  observe  and  do  all  his  command- 
ments, and  his  statutes,  which  I  command  thee 
this  day,  then  all  these  curses  shall  come  upon 
thee.  Cursed  shalt  thou  be  in  the  city,  and 
cursed  shalt  thou  be  in  the  field;  in  the  fruit 
of  thy  body,  in  the  fruit  of  thy  land,  in  the  in- 
crease of  thy  cattle.  Cursed  shalt  thou  be 
when  thou  comest  in,  and  cursed  shalt  thou  bo 
when  thou  goest  out.  The  Lord  siiall  send 
upon  thee  cursing  and  vexation,  in  all  thou 
settest  thine  hand  for  to  do,  until  thou  be 
destroyed;  because  of  the  wickeduess  of  thy 
doings,  whereby  thou  hast  forsaken  me.  And 
thy  heaven,  that  is  over  thy  head,  shall  be 
brass;  and  the  earth  that  is  under  thee  shall 
be  iron.  The  Lord  shall  cause  thee  to  be  smit- 
ten before  thine  enemies,  thou  shalt  go  out 
one  way  against  them,  and  fiee  seven  ways 
before  them;  and  thou  shalt  be  removed  into 
all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth.  And  thou  shalt 
grope  at  noonday,  as  the  bhnd  gropeth  in  dark- 


306 


ON  THE  COVENANT  OF  GOD,  &c. 


[Ser.  LXXXV. 


ness.  Thy  sons  and  thy  daufjhters  shall  be 
given  unto  anotiier  people.  Thine  eyes  shall 
Bee  it;  because  thou  servedst  not  tlie  Lord  thy 
God  with  joyfuhiess,  and  gladness  of  heart, 
for  tlie  abundance  of  all  Ihiii^.  Tlierefore 
thou  shalt  serve  thine  enemies  which  the  Lord 
shall  send  against  thee,  in  hunger,  nakedness, 
and  want.  The  Lord  shall  bring  against  theo 
a  nation  swift  as  the  eagle;  a  nation  of  fierce 
countenance.  He  sliall  besiege  thee  in  all  thy 
gates,  until  thy  liigii  and  fenced  walls  conic 
down,  wherein  thou  truslcdst.  And  thou  shalt 
eat  the  fruit  of  thy  own  body,  the  llusl»  of  thy 
sons  and  thy  daughters,  in  tiie  siege,  and  in 
the  straitncss.  Ho  that  the  man  that  is  tender 
among  you,  and  very  delicate,  his  eye  shall  be 
evil  towards  his  brother,  and  towards  the  wife 
of  his  bosom;  so  that  he  will  not  give  to  any  of 
them  of  the  tlesh  of  his  children  whom  he  shall 
eat,"  Deut.  xxviii.  15,  &c. 

These  are  but  part  of  the  execrations  which 
the  infractors  of  the  covenant  were  to  draw 
Tipon  themselves.  And  to  convince  them  that 
tiiey  must  determine,  either  not  to  contract  the 
covenant,  or  subject  themselves  to  all  its  exe- 
crations, God  caused  it  to  be  ratified  by  the 
awful  ceremony,  which  is  recorded  in  the 
chapter  immediately  preceding  the  (|uotations 
I  have  made.  He  conmianded  one  part  of  the 
Lévites  to  ascend  Mount  Ebal,  and  pronounce 
the  curses,  and  all  the  i)copl(!  to  say.  Amen. 
Hy  virtue  of  this  fommand,  the  Lévites  siiid, 
"  Cursed  be  he  that  sctlcth  light  by  bis  father 
or  bis  mother;  and  all  the  people  said,  Amen. 
Cursed  be  he  that  jierverluth  tlie  judgment  of 
the  stranger,  the  fatherless,  and  widow;  and 
all  the  people  said,  Amen.  Cursed  b(!  he 
that  smitetb  his  neighbour  secretly;  and  all  the 
people  said.  Amen.  Cursed  bo  be  tliat  con- 
iirmeth  not  all  the  words  of  this  law  to  do 
them;  and  all  the  people  said.  Amen;"  Deut. 
x.wii.  17 — 26. 

The  words  which  wc  render,  "  that  thou 
shouldcst  enter  into  covenant,"  have  a  peculiar 
energy  in  the  original,  and  signify,  "  that  thou 
shouldest  pass  into  covenant."  The  interpre- 
ters of  whom  1  speak,  think  they  refer  to  a 
ceremony  formerly  practised,  in  contracting 
covenants,  of  which  we  have  spoken  on  other 
occasions. 

On  immolating  the  victims,  they  divided  the 
flesh  into  two  ])arts,  placing  the  one  opi)osite 
to  the  other.  The  contracting  parties  i>assed 
in  the  open  space  betwiîon  the  two,  thereby 
testifying  their  consent  to  be  slauglitered  as 
those  victims,  if  they  did  not  religiously  con- 
firm the  covenant  contracted  in  so  mysterious 
a  manner. 

The  sacred  writings  afford  examples  of  this 
custom.  In  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Genesis, 
Abraham,  by  tlie  divine  command,  took  a 
heifer  of  three  years  (dd,  and  a  ram  of  the  same 
age,  and  dividing  them  in  the  midst,  he  placed 
the  parts  opposite  to  each  other:  "  and  behold,  a 
smoking  furnace,  and  a  burning  lamp  passed 
between  those  pieces."  This  was  a  symbol 
that  the  Lord  entered  into  an  engagement  with 
the  patriarch,  according  to  the  existing  custom: 
hence  it  is  said,  that  "  the  Lord  made  a  cove- 
nant with  -Abraham." 

In  the  thirty-fourth  chapter  of  the  prophe- 
cies of  Jcroniiah,  wo  find  a  correspondent  pas- 


sago.  "  I  will  give  the  men  that  have  trans- 
gressed my  covenant,  which  have  not  perform- 
ed the  words  of  the  covenant,  that  they  made 
before  me,  when  they  cut  the  calf  in  twain, 
and  passed  between  the  parts,  the  princes  of 
Judaii, — I  will  even  give  them  into  the  hands 
of  their  enemies."  If  we  do  not  find  the  whole 
of  these  ceremonies  observed,  when  God  con- 
tracted the  covenant  on  Sinai,  we  should  mark 
what  occurs  in  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  of 
Exodus;  "  Moses  sent  the  young  men  of  the 
children  of  Israel,  which  ollercd  burnt-otfer- 
ings,  and  sacrificed  peace-olTerings  of  oxen 
unto  the  Lord.  And  Moses  took  half  of  the 
blood,  and  put  it  in  basins:  and  li;ilf  of  the 
blood  he  sprinkled  on  the  altar;  and  the  other 
half  he  sprinkled  on  the  ])eople,  and  said.  Be- 
hold the  blood  of  the  covenant  which  the  Lord 
iiatli  made  with  you.  And  he  took  the  book 
of  the  covenant,  and  read  in  the  audience  of 
the  people:  and  they  said,  all  tliat  the  Lord 
hatli  said,  will  we  do,  and  be  obedient.  What 
is  the  import  of  this  ceremony,  if  it  is  not  the 
same  which  is  expressed  in  my  text,  that  the 
Israelites,  in  contracting  the  covenant  with 
God,  enter  into  the  execration  oath;  subjecting 
themselves,  if  ever  they  should  presume  de- 
liberately to  violate  the  sti|)ulations,  to  be 
treated  as  the  victims  innnolatcd  on  Sinai, 
and  as  those  which  Moses  i)robably  offered, 
when  it  was  renewed,  on  the  confines  of  Pa- 
lestine. 

Perhaps  one  of  my  hearers  may  say  to  liim- 
stdf,  tliat  the  terrific  circumstances  of  this  cere- 
mony regarded  the  Israelites  alone,  whom  God 
addressed  in  liglitiiitigs  and  thunders  from  the 
top  of  Sinai.  What!  was  there  then  no  victim 
immolated,  when  tîod  conlract(;d  his  covenant 
with  us?  Does  not  St.  Paul  expressly  say, 
that  "  without  the  shedding  of  blood,  there  is 
no  remission  of  sins'"  lleb.  ix.  '22.  And  what 
were  the  lightnings,  what  were  the  thunders 
of  Sinai?  ^Vhat  were  all  the  execrations,  and 
all  the  curses  of  the  law?  Tlicy  were  the  just 
punishments  every  sinner  shall  sutler,  who  ne- 
glects an  entrance  into  favour  with  God.  Now, 
these  lightnings,  these  thunders,  these  execra- 
tions, these  curses,  did  they  not  all  unite  against 
the  slaughtered  victim,  when  God  contracted 
his  covenant  with  us; — I  would  say,  against 
the  head  of  Jesus  Christ?  O  my  God!  what 
revolting  sentiments  did  not  such  comiilicated 
cal:i!iiities  excite  in  the  soul  of  the  Saviour! 
The  idea  alone,  when  presented  to  his  mind, 
a  little  before  his  death,  constrained  him  to 
say,  "Now  is  my  soul  troubled,"  John  xii.  17. 
And  on  approaching  the  hour;  "  My  soul  is 
exceedingly  sorrowful,  even  .unto  death.  O 
my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass 
from  me,"  Matt.  xxvi.  38,  39.  And  on  the 
cross;  "  My  (Jod,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me!"  Matt,  xxvii.  46. — Sinner!  here  is 
the  victim  immolated  on  contracting  thy  cove- 
nant with  God!  Here  are  the  sutl'erings  thou 
didst  subject  thyself  to  endure,  if  ever  thou 
shouldest  perfidiously  violate  it!  Thou  hast 
entered,  thou  hast  passed  into  covenant,  and 
into  the  oath  of  execration  which  God  has  re- 
(juired. 

APPLICATION. 
My  brethren,  no  man  should  presume  to  dis- 


Ser.  LXXXVI.] 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


307 


puise  the  nature  of  liis  engagements,  and  tlie 
liigli  characters  of  the  gospel.     Because,  on 
the  solemn  festival-day,  when  we  appear  in  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  our  God; — when  we  en- 
ter into  covenant  with  liim;  and  after  the  en- 
gagement, when  we  come  to  ratify  it  in  the 
lioly  sacrament; — we  not  only  enter,  but  we 
also  pass  into  covenant,  according  to  tiio  idea 
attached   to  the  term:    we   pass   between  the 
parts  of  the  victim  divided    in  sacrifice;  we 
pass  between  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  di- 
vided from   each  other  to   rejiresent  the  Sa- 
viour's death.   We  then  say,  "  Lord!  I  ccmsent, 
if  I  should  violate  tiie  stipulations  of  thy  cove- 
nant, and  if  after  the  violation,  I  do  not  re- 
cover  by   repentance,    I    consent,    tiiat   thou 
shouldst  treat  me  as  thou  hast  treated  thy  own 
Son,   in  the  garden  of   Gethsemane,  and  on 
(alvary.     Lord!  I  consent  that  thou  shouldst 
shoot  at  me  all  the  thunderbolts  and  arrows 
which  were  shot  agai;ist  him.     I  agree,  that 
thou  shouldst  unite  against  me  all  the  calami- 
ties which  were  united  against  liim.     And,  as 
it  implies  a  contradiction,  tliat  so  weak  a  mor- 
tal as  I  should  sustain  so  tremendous  a  punish- 
ment, I  agree,  that  the  duration  of  my  pun- 
ishment should  compensate  for  the  defects  of 
its  degree;  that  I  should  sutfer  eternally  in  the 
abyss  of  hell,  the   punislimcnts  I  could  not 
have  borne  in  the  limited  duration  of  time." 

Do  not  take  this  ])roposilion  for  a  hyberbole, 
or  a  rhetorical  figure.  To  enter  into  covenant 
with  God,  is  to  accept  the  gospel  precisely  as 
it  was  delivered  by  Jesus  C^hrist,  and  to  submit 
to  all  its  stipulations.  This  gospel  expressly 
declares,  tliat  "  fornicators,  that  liars,  that 
drunkards,  and  the  covetous,  sliall  not  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God."  On  accepting  the  gos- 
pel, we  accept  this  clause.  Therefore,  on  ac- 
cepting the  gospel,  we  submit  to  be  excluded 
the  kingdom  of  God,  if  we  are  either  drunk- 
ards, or  liars,  or  covetous,  or  fornicators;  and 
if  after  the  commission  of  any  of  these  crimes, 
we  do  not  recover  by  repentance.  And  what 
is  submission  to  this  clause,  if  it  is  not  to  enter 
into  the  execration  oath,  wliicli  God  requires 
of  us,  on  the  ratification  of  this  covenant' 

Ah!  my  brethren,  wo  unto  us  should  wc 
pronounce  against  ourselves  so  dreadful  an 
oath,  without  taking  the  precautions  suggest- 
ed by  tlie  gospel  to  avert  these  awful  conse- 
quences. All!  my  brethren,  if  we  are  not  sin- 
cerely re.solved  to  be  fiiithful  to  God,  let  us 
make  a  solenm  vow  before  we  leave  this  tem- 
ple, never  to  communicate,  never  to  approach 
the  Lord's  table. 

What!  never  approach  his  table!  never  com- 
mimicate!  Disdain  not  to  enter  into  the  cove- 
nant which  God  docs  not  disdain  to  make  with 
sinners!  What  a  decision!  Great  God,  what 
an  awful  decision!  And  should  this  be  the  ef- 
fect of  my  discourse!  Alas!  m}' brethren,  with- 
out this  covenant,  without  this  table,  without 
this  oath,  we  are  utterly  lost!  It  is  true,  we 
shall  not  be  punished  as  violators  of  vows  wc 
never  made:  but  we  shall  be  punished  as  mad- 
men; who,  being  actually  in  the  abyss  of  per- 
dition, reject  the  Redeemer,  whose  hand  is  ex- 
tended to  draw  us  thence.  Let  us  seek  that 
hand,  let  us  enter  into  this  covenant  with  God. 
The  engagements,  without  which  the  cove- 
nant cannot  be  confirmed,  have,  I  grant,  some- 


thing awfully  solemn.  The  oath,  the  oath  of 
execration  which  God  tenders,  is,  I  farther  al- 
low, very  intimidating.  Hut  what  constitutes 
the  fear,  constitutes  also  the  delight  and  conso- 
lation. For  what  r>nd  does  God  require  these 
engagements.'  For  what  end  docs  he  require 
this  oath?  Because  it  is  his  good  pleasure,  that 
wc  should  unite  (jursc-lvcs  to  him  in  tlie  same 
close,  constant,  and  indissoluble  maimer  as  he 
unites  himself  to  us. 

Let  us  l)e  sincere,  and  he  will  irlve  us  power 
to  be  faithful.  J^et  us  ask  his  aid,  and  he  will 
not  withhold  the  grace  destined  to  lead  us  to 
this  noble  end.  Let  us  say  to  him,  "  Lord,  I 
do  enter  into  this  oath  of  execration;  but  I  do 
it  with  tren)bliniT.  I'stahlish  my  wavering  soul; 
confirm  my  fueble  knees;  give  me  the  victory; 
make  me  more  than  conqueror  in  all  the  con- 
flicts, by  which  the  enemy  of  niy  salvation 
comes  to  separate  me  ("r((in  thee.  Pardon  all 
the  fault-s  into  which  1  may  bo  rlrawn  bv  hu- 
man frailty.  Grant,  if  tiiey  should  sus|)en(l 
tlio  sentiments  of  fidelity  1  vow  to  thee,  that 
they  may  never  be  able  to  eradicate  them." 
Tliese  are  the  prayers  which  God  loves,  these 
arc  the  prayers  which  he  hears.  May  he  grant 
us  to  experience  them!    Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXVI. 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVEXANT. 
(For  the  day  of  Pentecost.) 


2  CoR.  i.  21,  22. 
lie  which  cslahlifihelh  vs  with  you  in  Christ,  and 

hath  anointid  its,  is  Gvd;  who  hath  also  se  ale  d 

lis,  and  ^iveii  us  the  earliest  of  the  Sjiiril  in 

our  hearts. 

How  distinguished  soever  this  sabbath  may 
be,  it  aflords  a  humiliating  consideration  to  us. 
How  glorious  soever  the  event  migiit  bo  to  the 
church,  whose  anniversary  we  now  celebrate, 
it  cannot  be  recollected,  without  deploring  the 
ditrerencc  between  what  Ciod  once  achieved 
for  his  saints,  and  what  he  is  doing  at  the  pre- 
sent period.  In  the  first  I\;ntecost,  the  heavens 
visibly  opened  to  the  brethren;  but  wc,  wc  alas! 
are  unable  to  pierce  the  vaults  of  tliis  church. 
The  Holy  Spirit  then  miraculously  descended 
with  inspiration  on  those  holy  men,  who  were 
designated  to  carry  th.e  light  of  tlie  gospel 
throughout  the  world;  but  now,  it  is  solely  by 
the  eftbrts  of  meditation  and  study,  that  j'our 
preachers  communicate  knowledge  and  exhor- 
tation. The  earth  shook;  the  most  abstruse 
mysteries  were  explained;  languages  the  least 
intelligible  became  instantaneously  familiar; 
the  sick  were  healed;  the  dead  were  raised  to 
life;  Ananias  and  Sapphira  cxjjired  at  the 
apostles'  feet;  and  such  a  multitude  of  prodi- 
gies were  then  achieved,  in  order  to  give  weight 
to  the  ministry  of  the  first  preachers  of  the  o-os- 
pel,  that  no  one  among  us  can  be  unacquainted 
with  those  extraordinary  events.  But  good 
wishes,  prayers,  entreaties,  are  all  we  can  now 
exert  to  insinuate  into  your  hearts,  and  con- 
ciliate your  attention. 

What  then!  is  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  once  de- 
scended with  80  much  lustre  on  tlie  primitive 


308 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


[Ser.  LXXXVI. 


Christians,  refused  to  us?  What  then!  shall  we 
have  no  participation  in  the  ^lory  of  that  day? 
shall  we  talk  of  the  j)rodigies  seen  by  tlie  in- 
fant cliiircli,  solely  to  excite  regret  at  the  dark- 
ness of  tlie  dispensation,  in  wliiih  it  lias  pleas- 
ed God  to  give  us  birth?  Away  with  the 
thought!  The  change  is  only  in  the  exterior 
aspect,  not  in  the  basis  and  substance  of  Chris- 
tianity; whatever  essential  endowments  the 
holy  spirit  once  communicated  to  the  primitive 
Christians,  he  now  conununicates  to  us.  Hear 
the  words  we  have  read,  "  He  which  stablish- 
eth  you  with  us,  in  Christ,  and  hath  anointed 
us,  is  God;  who  hath  also  sealed  us,  and  given 
us  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts."  On 
these  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the 
heart,  we  now  purpose  to  treat,  and  on  which 
we  shall  make  three  kinds  of  observations. 

I.  Jt  is  designed  to  develope  the  manner  in 
which  this  operation  is  expressed  in  tiie  words 
of  my  text. 

n.  To  explain  its  nature,  and  prove  its 
reality. 

HI.  To  trace  the  disposition  of  the  man 
who  retards,  and  the  man  who  farthers  tiie  ope- 
rations of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

This  comprises  the  outlines  of  our  discourse. 

I.  We  shall  easily  comprehend  tiie  manner 

in  which  St.  Paul  expresses   the  operation  of 

the  Holy  Spirit,  if  we  follow  the  subsequent 

rules. 

1.  Let  us  reduce  the  metaphor  to  its  genu- 
ine import.  St.  Paul  wishes  to  prove  the  truth 
and  certainty  of  the  ])roinises,  God  had  given 
the  church  by  his  ministry;  "All  the  promises 
of  God  in  him  are  yea,  and  in  him  amen,"  2 
Cor.  i.  i'O.  These  are  Hebrew  modes  of  speech. 
The  Jews,  in  order  to  designate  deceitful 
speeches,  say,  that  there  are  men  with  whom 
yea  is  nay,  and  nay  is  yea;  on  the  contrary,  the 
yea  of  a  good  man  is  yea,  and  nay,  is  nay. 
Hence  the  maxim  of  a  celebrated  Rabbi,  "Let 
the  disciples  of  the  wise,  give  and  receive 
in  fidelity  and  truth,  saying,  yea,  yea;  nay, 
nay."  And  it  was  in  allusion  to  this  mode  of 
speecii,  that  our  Saviour  said  to  his  disciples, 
"  Let  your  yea  he  yea,  and  your  nay  be  nay; 
wiiatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometii  of  evil," 
Matt.  V.  37. 

St.  Paul,  to  prove  that  the  promises  God 
has  given  us  in  his  word,  are  yea  and  amen; 
that  is,  sure  and  certain,  says,  he  has  estab- 
lished them  in  a  threefold  manner:  by  the 
anninlinf;,  the  seal,  and  the  earnests.  These 
several  terms  express  the  same  idea,  and  mark 
the  diversified  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
for  the  confirmation  of  the  Evangelical  pro- 
mises. However,  if  another  will  assert,  that 
we  are  to  imderstand  dillercnt  operations  by 
these  three  terms,  I  will  not  controvert  his 
opinion.  Hy  the  unclion,  we  mîiy  here  under- 
stand, the  miraculous  endowmenta  alfordcd  to 
the  apostles,  and  to  a  vast  number  of  the  pri- 
mitive Christians,  and  the  inferences  enlight- 
ened men  would  conseipientiy  draw  in  favour 
of  Clirislianity.  It  is  a  mctaplior  taken  from 
the  oil  pourrd  by  the  special  command  of  God, 
Oft  the  head  of  persons  selected  for  grand 
achievements,  und  particularly  on  the  head  of 
kings  and  priests.  It  implied  that  God  had 
designated  those  men  for  distinguished  offices, 
juid  conimunicated  to  ihem  the  necessary  i;n- 


dowments  for  the  adequate  discharge  of  their 
duty.  Under  this  idea,  St.  John  represents  the 
gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  granted  to  the  whole 
church:  "  Ye  have  an  unction  from  the  Holy 
One,  and  ye  know  all  things,"  1  John,  ii.  20. 
By  the  seal,  of  which  the  apostle  here  says, 
"  God  hath  sealed  us,"  the  sacraments  may  be 
understood.  The  metaphor  is  derived  from 
the  usages  of  society  in  affixing  seals  to  cove- 
nants and  treaties.  Under  this  design  are  the 
sacraments  represented  in  the  Scriptures.  The 
term  is  found  applied  to  those  exterior  institu- 
tions in  the  fourth  chapter  of  St.  Paul's  epiB- 
tle  to  the  Romans.  It  is  there  said  that 
"  Abraham  received  the  sign  of  circumcision, 
as  a  seal  of  the  righteousness  of  faith.  By  the 
institution  of  tliis  sign,  to  Abraham  and  his 
posterity,  God  distinguished  the  Jews  from 
every  nation  of  the  earth;  marked  them  as  his 
own,  and  blessed  them  with  the  fruits  of  evan- 
gelical justification.  This  is  the  true  import, 
|)rovided  the  interior  grace  be  associated  with 
the  exterior  sign;  I  would  say,  sanctification, 
or  the  image  of  God;  purity  being  inculcated 
on  us  in  the  Scriptures  by  the  symbol  of  a  seal. 
Tills,  in  our  opinion,  is  the  import  of  that  fine 
passage,  so  distorted  by  the  schoolmen;  "  The 
foundation  of  God  standeth  sure,  having  this 
seal,  the  Lord  knowelh  them  that  are  his:  let 
every  one  that  nameth,"  (or  invoketh)  "  the 
name  of  Christ  depart  from  iniquity,"  2  Tim. 
ii.  19.  What  is  God's  seal'  How  does  God 
know  his  own?"  Is  it  by  the  exterior  badges 
of  sacraments?  Is  it  by  "  the  circumcision 
which  is  in  the  flesh?"  No,  it  is  by  this  more 
hallowed  te.st,  "  Let  every  one  that  nameth 
the  name  of  Christ  depart  from  iniquity." 

In  fine,  by  the  earn'ests  of  the  Spirit,  we 
understand  those  foretastes  of  heaven  which 
God  communicates  to  some  of  those  he  has 
designated  to  celestial  happiness.  An  earnest 
(or  earnests  as  in  the  Greek,)  is  a  deposit  of 
part  of  the  purchase  money  for  a  bargain.  St. 
Paul  says,  and  in  the  sense  attached  to  the 
term,  "  We  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do 
groan,  being  burtliened:  not  that  we  would  be 
unclothed,  but  clothed,  that  mortality  might 
be  swallowed  up  of  life.  Now  he  that  hath 
wrought  us  for  the  self-same  thing  is  God;  who 
also  hath  given  unto  us  the  earnest  of  the 
Spirit,"  2  Cor.  v.  4,  5. 

Whether,  therefore,  each  of  these  terms, 
unction,  seal,  earnest,  express  the  same  thing; 
as  I  think  could  be  proved,  by  several  texts 
of  Scripture,  in  which  they  are  promiscuously 
used; — or  whether  they  convey  three  distinct 
ideas; — they  all  indicate  that  God  confirms  to 
us  the  evangelical  promises  in  the  way  we  have 
described. 

This  is  the  idea,  my  brethren,  one  should 
att'ich  to  the  metaphors  in  our  text.  In  order 
to  comprehend  the  Scriptures,  you  should  al- 
ways recollect  that  they  abound  with  these 
forms  of  speech.  The  sacred  writers  lived  in  a 
warm  climate;  whose  inhabitduts  had  a  natural 
vivacity  of  imagination,  very  dilfereiit  from  us 
who  reside  in  a  colder  region,  and  under  a 
cloudy  sky;  who  have  consequently  a  peculiar 
gravity,  and  dulness  of  temperature.  Seldom, 
therefore,  did  the  men  of  whom  we  have  been 
speaking,  employ  the  simple  style.  They  bor- 
rowed bold   figures;  they  magnified  objects; 


Skr.  LXXXVI.] 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


809 


they  delighted  in  amplitude  and  hyperbole. 
The  Holy  Spirit,  employing  the  pen  of  the 
sacred  authors,  did  not  change,  but  sanctify 
their  tem[)erature.  It  was  his  pleasure  that 
they  should  speak  in  the  language  used  in  their 
own  time;  and  avail  themselves  of  those  forms 
of  speech,  without  which  they  would  neither 
have  been  heard  nor  understood. 

2.  I^et  us  reduce  the  metaphor  to  precision, 
and  the  figure  to  truth.  But  under  a  notion 
of  reducing  it  to  truth,  let  us  not  enfeeble  its 
force;  and  wishful  to  reject  imaginary  mys- 
teries, let  us  not  destroy  those  which  are  real. 
Tliis  second  caution  is  requisite  in  order  to 
supersede  the  false  glosses  which  have  been 
attached  to  the  text.  Two  of  these  we  ought 
particularly  to  reject; — the  one  on  the  word 
Spirit; — the  other  on  the  words,  seal,  unclion 
and  earnest,  which  we  have  endeavoured  to 
explain. 

Some  divines  have  asserted,  that  the  word 
Spirit,  ought  to  be  arranged  in  the  class  of 
metaphors  designed  to  express,  not  a  person 
of  the  Godhead,  but  an  action  of  Providence; 
and  that  we  should  attach  this  sense  to  the 
term,  not  only  in  this  text,  but  also  in  all  those 
we  adduce  to  prove,  tiiat  there  is  a  divine  per- 
son distinct  from  the  Father  and  the  Son,  call- 
ed the  Holy  Spirit. 

We  have  frequently,  in  this  pulpit,  avowed 
our  ignorance  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
divine  essence,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sion. We  have  often  declared,  that  we  can 
determine  nothing  concerning  God,  except 
what  we  are  obliged  to  know  from  tlie  works 
he  has  created,  and  from  the  truths  he  has  re- 
Vealed.  We  have  more  than  once  acknow- 
ledged, that  even  those  truths,  which  we  trace 
from  reason  and  revelation,  are  as  yet  very 
imperfect;  and  that  the  design  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, when  speaking  of  God,  is  less  to  reveal 
what  he  is,  than  the  relation  in  which  he 
stands  to  us.  Hence  I  conceive,  that  the  ut- 
most moderation,  and  deference  of  judgment; 
and,  if  I  may  so  speak,  tiic  utmost  pyrrhon- 
is!n,  on  this  subject,  is  all  that  reasonable 
men  can  expect,  from  the  philosopher  and  the 
divine. 

When  we  find  in  the  Scriptures,  certain 
ideas  of  the  Divinity; — ideas,  which  have  not 
the  slightest  dissonance  to  those  aflbrded  by 
his  works;  ideas,  moreover,  clearly  expressed 
and  repeated  in  a  variety  of  places,  we  admit 
them  without  hesitation,  and  condemn  those, 
who,  by  a  false  notion  concerning  propriety 
of  thought,  and  precision  of  argument,  refuse 
their  assent.  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  that  they 
fall  into  tliis  mistake  who  refuse  to  acknow- 
ledge, in  the  texts  we  adduce,  a  declaration  of 
a  Divine  Person. 

1  shall  cite  one  single  passage  only  from  the 
sixteenth  chapter  of  the  gospel  by  St.  John; 
"  When  he,  the  Spirit  of  truth  is  come,  he 
will  guide  you  into  all  truth;  for  he  shall  not 
speak  of  himself;  but  whatsoever  he  shall 
hear,  that  shall  he  speak:  and  he  will  show 
you  things  to  come.  He  shall  glorify  me;  for 
he  shall  receive  of  mine,  and  show  it  unto 
you."  I  challenge  here,  this  propriety  of 
thought,  and  precision  of  argument,  of  which 
the  persons  we  attack  make  a  profession,  I  had 
Almost  said  a  parade,  to  say  whether  tlicse  can 


obstruct  the  perception  of  three  persons  in  the 
words  we  have  read.'  Can  they  obstruct  our 
perceiving  the  Father,  to  whom  all  things  be- 
long; the  Son,  who  participates  in  all  things 
which  belong  to  the  Father:  the  Holy  Spirit, 
who  receives  and  reveals  those  things  to  the 
church?  I  ask  again,  whether  by  this  proprie- 
ty of  thought,  and  precision  of  argument,  we 
can  understand  an  action  of  Providence,  from 
wiiat  is  ascribed  to  the  Holy  Spirit'  And  whe- 
tlier,  without  offering  violence  to  the  laws  of 
language,  one  may  substitute  for  the  term 
spirit,  the  words  action  and  Providence,  and 
thus  paraphrase  the  whole  passage;  "  I  have 
yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  can- 
not bear  them  now.  Howbeit,  when  this  ac- 
tion of  Providence  is  come,  even  this  action 
of  Providence,  it  will  guide  you  into  all  the 
trutli;  for  it  shall  not  speak  of  itself;  but 
whatsoever  it  shall  hear,  that  shall  it  speak; 
for  it  sliall  receive  of  mine,  and  shall  show 
them  unto  you."  We  frankly  confess,  my 
bretliren,  nothing  but  the  reluctance  we  have 
to  submit  our  notions  to  the  decision  of  Su- 
preme Wisdom  can  excite  an  apprehension, 
that  a  distinct  person  is  not  designated  in  the 
words  we  have  cited.  And,  when  it  is  once 
admitted,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  sent  to  the 
church  is  a  divine  person,  can  one,  on  compar- 
ing the  words  of  our  text  with  those  we  have 
quoted,  resist  the  conviction,  that  the  same 
Spirit  is  intended  in  both  these  passagea' 

In  the  class  of  those,  who,  under  a  pretext 
of  not  admitting  imaginary  mysteries,  reject 
such  as  are  real,  we  arrange  those  divine, 
who  deny  the  agency  of  this  adorable  person 
on  the  heart,  in  what  the  apostle  calls,  unction, 
seal,  and  earnest:  those  supralapsarian  teach- 
ers, who  suppose,  that  all  the  operation  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  on  the  regenerate,  consists  in  en- 
abling him  to  preach;  that  he  does  not  afford 
them  the  slightest  interior  aid,  to  surmount 
those  difficulties  which  naturally  obstruct  a 
compliance  with  the  grand  design  of  preach- 
ing. The  Scriptures  assert,  in  so  many  places, 
the  inetficacy  of  preaching  without  those  aids, 
that  no  doubt  can,  in  my  opinion,  be  admissi- 
ble upon  the  subject.  But,  if  some  divines 
have  degraded  this  branch  of  Christian  the- 
ology, by  an  incautious  defence,  to  them  the 
blame  attaches,  and  not  to  those  who  have 
established  it  upon  solid  proof  Those  divines, 
who,  by  a  mode  of  teaching  much  more  cal- 
culated to  confound,  than  defend,  orthodox 
opinions,  have  spoken  of  the  unction  of  the 
Spirit,  as  though  it  annihilated  the  powers  of 
nature,  and  as  though  they  made  a  jest; — ^yes, 
a  jest,  of  the  exhortations,  promises,  and  threat- 
enings  addressed  to  us  in  the  Scriptures: — 
Those  divines,  if  there  are  such,  shall  give  an 
account  to  God  for  the  discord  they  have  oc- 
casioned in  the  church,  and  even  for  the  here- 
sies to  which  their  mode  of  expounding  the 
Scriptures  has  given  birth. 

You,  however,  brethren,  embrace  no  doc- 
trines but  those  explicitly  revealed  in  the 
Scriptures; — you,  who  admit  the  agency  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  on  the  heart,  unsolicitous  to  define 
its  nature.  You,  who  say  with  Jesus  Christ, 
"  the  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou 
hoarest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell 
whence  it  cometb,  and  whither  it  goeth,"  John 


310 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


[Ser.  LXXXVI. 


iii.  8.  You,  who  especially  admit,  that  the 
more  conscious  wo  are  of  the  want  of  grace, 
the  more  we  should  exert  our  natural  gifts; 
that,  tlie  more  need  we  have  of  interior  aids, 
the  more  we  should  profit  by  exterior  assist- 
ance, by  the  books  we  have  at  hand,  by  the 
favourable  circumstances  in  which  we  may  be 
providentially  placed,  by  the  ministry  which 
God  has  graciously  established  among  us! 
Fear  not  to  follow  those  faithful  guides,  and 
to  adopt  precautions  so  wise;  under  a  pretext 
of  reducing  metaphors  to  precision,  never  en- 
feeble their  force;  and,  under  a  plea  of  not  ad- 
mitting imaginary  mysteries,  never  reject  the 
real.     This  was  our  second  rule. 

And  here  is  the  third.  In  addresses  to  so- 
ciety in  general,  what  belongs  to  each  should 
be  distinguished.  St.  Paul  here  addressed  the 
whole  church:  but  the  whole  of  its  numerous 
members  could  not  have  been  in  the  same 
situation.  Hence,  one  of  the  greatest  faults 
we  commit.in  expounding  the  Scriptures,  and 
especially  in  expounding  texts  which  treat  of 
the  agency  of  the  Spirit,  is,  the  neglecting  to 
distinguish  what  we  had  designed.  This  is  one 
cause  of  the  little  fruit  produced  by  sermons. 
We  address  a  church,  whose  religious  attain- 
ments are  very  unequal.  Some  are  scarcely 
initiated  into  knowledge  and  virtue;  others  aj)- 
proach  perfection;  and  some  hold  a  middle 
rank  between  the  two.  We  address  to  this 
congregation  certain  general  discourses,  which 
cannot  apply  with  equal  force  to  all;  it  belongs 
to  each  of  our  hearers,  to  examine  how  far 
each  argument  has  reference  to  his  own  case. 

Apply  now  to  the  words  of  our  text  the 
general  maxim  we  have  laid  down;  you  will 
recollect  the  ideas  we  have  attached  to  the 
terms  used  by  tlie  apostle,  to  express  the 
agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  heart.  We 
have  said  that  these  terms,  unction,  seal,  ear- 
nest, excite  three  ideas.  And  we  can  never 
understand  those  Scriptures,  wliich  speak  of 
the  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  unless  those 
three  effects  of  the  divine  agency  are  distin- 
guished. Every  Christian  has  not  been  confirm- 
ed by  the  Spirit  of  God  in  all  those  various 
ways.  All  have  not  received  the  threefold 
unction,  the  tlireefold  seal,  the  threefold  ear- 
nest. To  some  the  Holy  Spirit  has  confirmed 
the  first,  availing  himself  of  their  ministry  for 
the  achievement  of  miracles,  or  by  causing 
them  to  feel  that  a  religion,  in  favour  of  which 
60  many  prodigies  have  been  acliievcd,  could 
not  be  false.  To  others,  the  second  confirma- 
tion was  added  to  Die  first;  at  the  moment  he 
carried  conviction  to  the  mind,  he  sanctified 
the  heart.  With  regard  to  others,  he  com- 
municated more;  not  only  persuading  them 
that  a  religion,  which  promises  celestial  feli- 
city, is  true;  not  only  enabling  them  to  conform 
to  tiio  conditions  on  which  this  felicity  is  pro- 
mised, but  he  also  gives  them  foretastes  here 
below. 

11.  and  HI.  I  could  better  explain  my  sen- 
timents, (fid  I  dare  engage,  in  discussing  the 
second  part  of  my  subject,  to  illustrate  the  na- 
ture, and  prove  the  reality  of  the  Spirit's 
agency  on  the  heart.  Cut  how  can  I  attempt 
tlie  discussion  of  so  vast  a  subject  in  one  dis- 
course, when  so  many  considerations  restrict 


me  to  brevity'  We  shall,  therefore,  speak  of 
the  nature  and  reality  of  the  Spirit's  agency 
on  tlie  lieart,  so  far  only  as  is  necessary  to 
furnish  matter  for  our  third  head,  on  which  we 
are  now  entering;  and  which  is  designed  to 
trace  the  dispositions  that  favour,  and  such  as 
retard,  the  operations  of  the  Spirit:  a  most 
important  discussion,  which  will  develop  the 
causes  of  the  anniversary  of  Pentecost  being 
unavailing  in  the  church,  and  point  out  the 
dispositions  for  its  worthy  celebration. 

What  we  shall  advance  on  this  subject,  is 
founded  on  a  maxim,  to  which  I  solicit  your 
peculiar  attention;  namely,  tliat  every  motion 
of  the  Spirit  on  the  heart  of  good  men,  requires 
correspondent  co-operation;  without  wiiich  his 
agency  would  be  unavailing.  The  refusal  to 
co-operate  is  called  in  Scripture,  "  quenching — 
grieving — resisting — and  doing  despite  to  the 
Spirit."  Now,  according  to  tlie  style  of  St. 
Paul,  this  quenching — grieving — resisting — 
and  doing  despite  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  to  ren- 
der his  operation  unavailing. 

Adequately  to  comprehend  this  maxim,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  avoid  a  mistaken  theology, 
and  a  corrupt  morality,  concerning  the  agency 
of  the  Spirit,  make  the  following  reflection: 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  may  perhaps  be  consider- 
ed in  one  of  these  three  respects;  either  as  the 
omnipotent  God;  or  as  a  wise  lawgiver:  or  as 
a  wise  lawgiver  and  the  omnipotent  God,  in 
the  same  character.  Hence  llie  man  on  whom 
he  works,  may  perhaps  be  considered,  either, 
as  a  physical,  or  a  moral  being;  or  as  a  being 
in  whom  both  these  qualities  associate.  To 
consider  the  Hply  Spirit  in  the  work  of  regen- 
eration as  the  omnipotent  God,  and  the  man> 
for  whose  conversion  he  exerts  his  agency,  as 
a  being  purely  physical:  and  to  afiirni  that  the 
Floly  Spirit  acts  solely  by  irresistible  influence, 
man  being  simi)ly  passive,  is,  in  our  opinion,  a 
morality  extremely  corrupt.  To  consider  the 
Holy  Spirit  sim()ly  as  a  lawgiver,  and  man 
merely  as  a  moral  being,  capable  of  vice  and 
virtue;  and  to  aihrm,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  only 
proposes  his  precepts,  and  tiiat  man  obeys 
them,  unassisted  by  tlic  divine  energy  attend- 
ant on  their  promulgation,  is  to  propagate  a 
theology  equally  erroneous.  But,  to  consider 
the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  onniipotent  God,  and 
legislator  in  tlie  same  character,  and  man  as 
a  being  botii  moral  and  i)iiysical,  is  to  harmon- 
ize the  laws  moral  and  divine,  and  to  avoid,  on 
a  subject  so  exceedingly  controverted,  the  two 
equally  dangerous  rocks,  against  which  so 
many  divines  have  cast  themselves  away. 

The  adoption  of  this  last  system  (which  is 
here  the  wisest  choice,)  implies  an  acknow- 
ledgment, that  there  are  dispositions  in  man 
which  retard,  and  dispositions  which  cherish, 
the  successful  agency  of  God  oh  the  heart. 
What  are  these?  They  regard  the  three  ways, 
in  which  we  said  the  Holy  Spirit  confirms  to 
the  soul  the  promises  of  "  immortality  and 
life."  These  he  confirms,  first,  by  the  persua- 
sion he  affords,  concerning  the  truth  of  the 
gospel;  causing  it  to  spring  up  in  the  heart  on 
review  of  the  miracles  performed  by  the  first 
(Christians.  Secondly,  he  confirms  them  by 
the  inward  work  of  sanctification.  Thirdly, 
ho  confirms  thorn  by  foretastes  of  celestial  de- 


Ser.  LXXXVI.] 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


311 


light,  communicated  to  some  Christians,  even 
here  below.  Eacii  of  these  points  we  shall 
resume  in  its  order. 

First,  the  gift  of  miracles  was  a  seal,  which 
God  aiiixcd  to  the  ministry  of  the  first  heralds 
of  the  gospel.  Miracles  are  called  seals:  such 
is  the  import  of  those  distinguished  words  of 
Christ;  "  Labour  not  for  the  meal  that  perish- 
eth;  but  for  that  meat  which  endurcth  unto 
eternal  life,  which  the  Son  of  map  shall  give 
unto  you,  for  him  hath  the  Father  sealed," 
John  vi.  27.  The  seal  which  distinguished  Je- 
sus Christ,  was  the  gift  of  miracles  he  had  re- 
ceived of  God,  to  demonstrate  the  divine  au- 
thority of  his  mission:  so  lie  himself  aflirmed  | 
to  the  multitudes;  "  The  works  whicli  tiie  Fa- 
ther hath  given  me  to  finish,  the  same  works 
that  1  do,  bear  witness  that  the  Father  hath 
Bent  mo,"  John  v.  36. 

The  inference,  with  regard  to  the  Lord,  is 
of  equal  force  with  regard  to  the  disciples. 
The  miraculous  endowments,  granted  to  them, 
sanctioned  their  mission;  as  the  mission  of  the 
Master  was  sanctioned  by  the  miraculous  j)ow- 
ers  with  which  it  was  accompanied.  What 
seal  more  august  could  have  been  aflixed  to  it' 
What  demonstrations  more  conclusive  can  we 
ask  of  a  religion  which  announces  them  to  us, 
than  all  these  miracles  which  God  performed 
for  its  confirmation?  Could  the  Deity  have 
communicated  his  omnipotence  to  impostors? 
Could  he  even  have  wished  to  lead  mankind 
into  mistake?  Could  he  have  allowed  heaven 
and  earth,  the  sea  and  land  to  be  shaken  for 
the  sanction  of  lies? 

As  tliere  are  dispositions  whicli  retard  the 
agency  of  the  Spirit,  who  comes  to  impress 
the  heart  with  truth,  so  there  are  others  which 
favour  and  cherish  his  work.     With  regard  to 
those  which  retard,  I  would  not  only  include 
infidelity  of  heart,  wliose  principle  is  malice; 
I  would  not  only  include  here  those  eccentric 
men,  who  resist  the  most  palpable  proofs,  and 
evident  demonstrations,  and  think  they  have 
answered  every  argument  by  saying,   "  It  is 
not  true.     I  doubt,  1  deny." — Men  tliat  seem 
to  liave  made  a  model  of  the  Pharisees,  who, 
when  unable  to  deny  the  miracles  of  Christ, 
and  to  elude  tlieir  force,  ascribed  them  to  the 
devil.     This  is  a  fault  so  notorious,  as  to  su- 
persede  the   necessity   of  argument.     But   I 
would  also  convince  you  Christians,  that  the 
neglect  of  studying  the  history  of  tiie  miracles 
we  celebrate  to-day,  is  an  awful  source  of  sub- 
version to  the  agency  we  are  discussing.     Cor- 
respond, by  serious  attention  and  profound  re- 
collection, to  the  efforts  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
demonstrating  the  truth  of  your  religion.     On 
festivals  of  this  kind,  a  Christian  should  recol- 
lect and  digest,  if  I  may  so  speak,  the  distin- 
guisiied   proofs  which  God  gave  of  the  truth 
of  Christianity  on  the  day  whoso  anniversary 
we  now  celebrate.     He  should  say  to  himself: 
"  1  wish  to  know,  whether  advantage  be  taken 
of  my  simplicity,  or  whether  I  am  addressed 
as  a  rational  licing;  wlien  I  am  told,  tiiat  the 
first  heralds  of  the  gospel  performed  the  mi- 
racles, attributed  to  their  agency." 

"I  wish  to  know,  whetiier  the  miracles  of 
the  apostles  have  been  narrated,  (Acts  ii.)  and 
inquire  whether  those  holy  men  have  named 
the  place,  the  time,  the  witnesses,  and  circmn- 


stances  of  the  miracles:  whether  it  be  true  that 
those  miracles  were  performed  in  the  most 
public  places,  amid  the  greatest  concourses  of 
I)eople,  in  presence  of  I'ersians,  of  Medes,  of 
I'arthians,  of  Elamites,  of  dwellers  in  Mesopo- 
tamia, in  Judea,  in  Cappadocia,  in  Lybia; 
among  Crêtes,  Arabs,  and  Jews. 

"  1  wish  to  know,  in  what  way  these  mira- 
cles were  foretold;  whether  it  be  true,  that 
these  were  the  characteristics  of  evangelical 
preachers,  which  the  prophets  had  traced  so 
many  ages  before  the  evangelical  period;  and 
whether  we  may  not  give  another  interpreta- 
tion to  these  distinguished  predictions:  '  Yet 
once,  it  is  a  little  while,  and  I  will  shake  the 
heavens,  and  the  earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the 
dry  land.  And  I  will  shake  all  nations,  and 
the  desire  of  all  nations  shall  come,'  Hag.  ii. 
5,  6.  I  will  pour  out  my  spirit  upon  all  fiesh; 
and  your  sons  and  your  daughters  shall  pro- 
phecy. Your  old  men  shall  dream  dreams, 
your  young  men  shall  see  visions.  And  1  will 
show  wonders  in  the  heavens  and  in  the  earth, 
blood,  fire,  and  pillars  of  smoke,"  Joel  ii. 
28—30. 

"  I  wish  to  know,  how  these  miracles  were 
received;  whether  it  be  true,  that  the  multi- 
tudes, the  myriads  of  proselytes,  who  had  it 
in  their  power  to  investigate  the  authenticity 
of  the  facts,  sacrificed  their  ease,  their  reputa- 
tion, their  fortune,  their  life,  and  every  com- 
fort which  martyrs  and  confessors  have  been 
accustomed  to  sacrifice:  I  wish  to  know,  whe- 
tiier the  primitive  Christians  made  these  sacri- 
fices on  embracing  a  religion  chiefly  founded 
on  a  belief  of  miracles. 

"  I  wish  to  know,  in  what  way  these  mira- 
cles were  opposed;  whether  it  be  true,  that 
there  is  this  distinguished  difference  between 
the  way  in  which  these  facts  were  attacked  in 
the  first  centuries,  and  in  the  present.  Whe- 
ther it  be  true,  that  instead  of  saying,  as  our 
infidels  assert,  that  these  facts  were  fabulous, 
the  Celsuses,  the  Porphyrys,  the  Zosimuses, 
who  lived  in  the  ages  in  which  these  facts  were 
recent,  took  other  methods  to  evade  their 
force;  attributing  them  to  the  powers  of  magic, 
or  confounding  them  with  other  pretended  mi- 
racles." 

This  is  the  study  to  which  we  should  pro- 
ceed; wo  be  to  us  if  we  regard  it  as  a  tedious 
task,  and  excuse  ourselves  on  inconsiderable 
pretexts!  Is  there  any  thing  on  earth  which 
should  interest  us  more  than  those  important 
truths,  announced  by  the  apostles;  and  espe- 
cially those  magnificent  promises  they  have  de- 
livered in  the  name  of  God?  Mortal  as  we  all 
are,  merely  appearing  on  the  stage  of  life, 
most  of  us  having  already  run  the  greater  part 
of  our  course,  called  every  moment  to  enter 
into  the  invisible  world,  destined  there  to  de- 
struction, or  eternal  existence,  is  there  a  ques- 
tion mor«  interesting  than  this?  "Is  it  for 
destruction,  or  eternal  existence,  I  am  designa- 
ted by  my  Maker?  Are  the  notions  I  entertain 
of  immortality;  of  pleasures  for  evermore  at 
God's  right  hand;  fulness  of  joy  around  his 
throne;  of  intimate  intercourse  with  the  ado- 
rable Being;  of  society  with  angels,  with  arch- 
angels, with  cherubim  and  seraphim;  for  ages, 
millions  of  ages,  an  eternity  with  the  blessed 
God,  .arc  the  notions  I  entertain,  realities,  or 


312 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COVENANT. 


[Ser.  LXXXVT. 


chimcras?"  No,  my  brethren,  neither  in  a  coun- 
cil of  war,  nor  legislative  assembly,  nor  philo- 
Bophical  society,  never  were  questions  more  im- 
portant discussed.  A  rational  man  should 
have  nothing  more  at  heart  than  their  eluci- 
dation. Nothing  whatever  should  aflord  him 
greater  satisfaction,  than  when  engaged  in  re- 
searches of  this  nature,  in  which  he  discovers 
some  additional  evidence  of  immortality,  and 
when  he  finds  stated  with  superior  arguments, 
the  demonstrations  we  have  of  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit's descent  upon  the  apostles,  the  anniversary 
of  which  we  now  celebrate. 

2.  If  there  are  dispositions  which  retard, 
and  cherish,  the  first  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
on  the  heart,  there  are  also  dispositions  which 
retard  and  cherish  the  second.  The  Holy 
Spirit,  we  have  said  in  the  second  place,  con- 
firms to  us  the  promises  of  the  gospel,  by  com- 
municating the  grace  of  sanctification.  What 
success  can  be  expected  from  his  gracious  ef- 
forts to  purify  the  heart,  while  you  oppose  the 
worka'  Why  have  those  gracious  efforts  hither- 
to produced,  with  regard  to  most  of  you,  so 
little  effect*  Because  you  still  oppose.  Desi- 
rous to  make  you  conscious  of  the  worth  of 
holiness,  the  Holy  Spirit  addresses  you  for  that 
purpose  in  the  most  pointed  sermons.  In  pro- 
portion as  the  preacher  addresses  the  ear,  the 
Holy  Spirit  inwardly  addresses  the  heart, 
alarming  it  by  that  declaration,  "  The  unclean 
«hall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God,"  1  Cor. 
vi.  10.  But  you  have  opposed  his  gracious 
work;  you  have  abandoned  the  heart  to  irregu- 
lar affection;  you  have  pursued  objects  calcu- 
lated to  inflame  concupiscence,  or  enkindle  it 
with  additional  vigour. 

The  Holy  Spirit,  desirous  to  humble  the 
heart,  exhibits  the  most  mortifying  portraits  of 
your  weakness,  your  ignorance,  your  dissipa- 
tion, your  indigence,  your  mortality  and  cor- 
ruption,— a  train  of  humiliating  considerations 
in  which  your  own  character  may  be  recognis- 
ed. But  you  have  opposed  his  work;  you  have 
swelled  your  mind  with  every  idea  calculated 
to  give  plausibility  to  the  sophisms  of  vanity; 
you  have  flattered  yourselves  with  your  birth, 
your  titles,  your  dignities,  your  affected  litera- 
ture, and  imaginary  virtues.  Improve  this 
thought,  my  brethren,  confess  your  follies; 
yield  to  the  operations  of  grace,  which  would 
reclaim  you  from  the  sins  of  the  age,  and 
make  you  partakers  of  the  divine  purity,  in  or- 
der to  a  participation  of  the  divine  felicity. 
Practise  those  virtues  which  the  apostles  so 
strongly  enforced  in  their  sermons,  whicli  they 
BO  highly  exemplified  in  their  lives,  and  so 
powerfully  pressed  in  their  writings. 

Above  all,  my  brethren,  let  us  follow  tlie 
emotions  of  that  virtue  which  is  the  true  test, 
by  which  the  Lord  knows  his  own  people,  I 
mean  charity:  such  are  the  words  of  Ci)rist, 
which  we  cannot  too  attentively  regard;  "  This 
is  my  commandment  that  ye  love  one  another," 
John  XV.  12.  When  I  speak  of  charity,  I  would 
not  only  prompt  you  to  share  your  superfluities 
with  the  indigent,  and  to  do  good  oflices  for 
your  neighbours.  Hut  a  man,  who,  when  cele- 
brating the  aimivcrsary  of  a  day  in  which  God's 
love  was  so  abundantly  shed  upon  the  church, 
in  which  tiie  C'hrislians  bef-amo  united  by  ties 
80  tender,  feels  reluctance  to  afford  these  slight 


marks  of  the  love  we  describe; — a  man  who, 
rapt  up  in  his  own  sulficiency,  and  in  the  ideas 
he  forms  of  his  own  grandeur,  sees  nothing 
worthy  of  himself  in  the  religion  God  has  pre- 
scribed, would,  however,  converse  with  his 
Maker,  and  receive  his  lienefits,  but  who  shuts 
his  door  against  his  neighbours,  abandons  them 
in  their  poverty,  trouble,  and  obscurity; — such 
a  man,  far  from  being  a  Christian,  has  not  even 
a  notion  of  Christianity.  At  the  moment  he 
congratulates  himself  with  being  distinguished 
from  the  rest  of  mankind  by  the  seal  of  God, 
he  has  only  the  seal  of  tlie  devil, — inflexibility 
and  pride. 

On  these  days  I  would,  my  brethren,  require 
concerning  charity,  marks  more  noble,  and 
tests  more  infallible,  than  alms  and  good  offices: 
I  would  animate  you  with  the  laudable  ambi- 
tion of  carrying  charity  as  far  as  it  was  carried 
by  Jesus  Christ.  To  express  myself  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  I  would  animate  you  to 
love  your  neighbour  as  Jesus  Christ  has  loved 
you.  In  what  way  has  Jesus  Christ  loved  yoa' 
What  was  the  grand  object  of  his  love  to  man? 
It  was  salvation.  So  also  should  the  salvation 
of  your  neighbours  be  the  object  of  your  love. 
Be  penetrated  with  the  wretchedness  of  people 
"  without  hope,  without  God  in  the  world," 
Eph.  ii.  12.  Avail  yourselves  of  the  prosperity 
of  your  navigation  and  commerce,  to  send  the 
gospel  into  districts,  where  creatures  made  in 
the  image  of  God,  know  not  him  that  made 
them,  but  live  in  the  grossest  darkness  of  the 
pagan  world. 

Be  likewise  impressed  with  the  wretchedness 
of  those,  who,  amid  the  light  of  the  gospel, 
have  their  eyes  so  veiled  as  to  exclude  its  lus- 
tre. Employ  for  the  great  work  of  reformation, 
not  gibbets  and  tortures,  not  fire  and  fagot,  but 
persuasion,  instruction,  and  every  means  best 
calculated  for  causing  the  truth  to  be  known 
and  esteemed. 

Be  touched  with  the  miseries  of  people  edu- 
cated in  our  own  communion,  and  who  believe 
what  we  believe;  but  who  tlirough  the  fear  of 
man,  through  worldly-mindedness,  and  aston- 
ishing hardness  of  heart,  are  obstructed  from 
following  the  light.  Address  to  them  the  clo- 
sest exhortations.  Offer  them  a  participation 
of  your  abundance.  Endeavour  to  move  tiiem 
towards  the  interests  of  their  cliildren.  Pray 
for  them;  pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem; 
pray  that  God  would  raise  the  ruins  of  our 
temples:  that  he  would  gather  the  many  scat- 
tered flocks;  pray  him  to  reinvigorate  tlie  Chris- 
tian blood  in  these  veins,  which  seems  destitute 
of  heat  and  circulation.  Pray  him,  my  fellow- 
countrymen,  that  he  would  have  pity  on  your 
country,  in  which  one  prejudice  succeeds  an- 
other. Be  afthcted  witii  the  affliction  of  Jo- 
seph, be  mindful  of  your  native  land. 

3.  We  have  said  lastly,  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
confirms  the  promise  of  celestial  felicity,  by  a 
communication  of  its  foretastes  here  below  to 
highly-favoured  souls.  On  this  subject,  I  seem 
suspended  between  the  fear  of  giving  counte- 
nance to  enthusiasm,  and  of  suppressing  one  of 
the  most  consolatory  trutlis  of  tlie  Cliristian  re- 
ligion. It  is,  however,  a  fact,  that  there  are 
highly-favoured  souls,  to  whom  the  Holy  Spirit 
confirms  tho  promises  of  celestial  happiness,  by 
a  communication  of  its  foretastes  here  on  earth. 


Ser.  LXXXVII.] 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JKSUS  CHRIST. 


313 


By  foretastes  of  celestial  happiness,  I  mean 
the  impression  made  on  the  mind  of  a  Chris- 
tian, of  tiie  siiiferest  piety,  by  this  consolatory 
thought;  "My  soul  is  immortal:  deatii,  which 
seems  to  terminate,  only  cliangcs  the  mode  of 
my  existence:  my  body  also  shall  jiarticipate 
of  eternal  life;  the  dust  shall  be  reanimated, 
and  its  scattered  particles  collected  into  a  glo- 
rious form." 

By  foretastes  of  celestial  happiness,  I  mean, 
the  unshaken  confidence  a  Christian  feels,  even 
when  assailed  with  doubts, — when  op|)ressed 
with  deep  aflliction,  and  surrounded  with  the 
veil  of  death,  whicli  conceals  tiie  objects  of  his 
hope:  this  assurance  enables  him  to  say,  "  I 
know  in  whom  i  have  believed,  and  I  am  per- 
suaded he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have 
committed  unto  him  against  that  day,"  2  Tim. 
i.  12.  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and 
that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  the 
earth.  And  though  after  my  skin  worms  de- 
stroy this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see 
God,"  Job  xix.  25,  26.  "O  God,  though 
thou  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  thee.  Though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,"  I's.  xxii.  4.  "  I 
liave  set  the  Lord  always  before  me;  because 
ho  is  on  my  right  hand,  I  shall  not  bo  moved," 
Ps.  .xvi.  8. 

By  foretastes  of  celestial  happiness,  I  mean, 
the  delights  of  glorified  saints  in  heaven,  which 
some  find  while  dwelling  on  earth;  when  far 
from  the  multitude,  secluded  from  care,  and 
conversing  with  the  blessed  God,  they  can  ex- 
press themselves  in  these  words,  "  My  soul  is 
satisfied  with  marrow  and  fatness,  when  I  re- 
member thee  upon  my  bed,  and  meditate  upon 
thee  in  the  night  watches,"  Ps.  Ixiii.  5,  6. 
"Our  conversation  is  in  heaven,"  Phil.  iii.  20. 
By  foretastes  of  celestial  happiness,  I  mean, 
the  impatience  which  some  of  the  faithful  feel, 
to  terminate  a  life  of  calamities  and  imperfec- 
tions; and  the  satisfaction  they  receive  every 
evening  on  reflecting  that  another  day  of  their 
pilgrimage  is  passed;  that  they  are  one  step 
nearer  to  eternity.  "  In  this  tabernacle  we 
groan,  earnestly  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon 
with  our  house  which  is  from  heaven,"  2  Cor. 
V.  2.  "  My  desire  is  to  depart,  and  to  be  with 
Christ,"  Phil.  i.  23.  Why  is  his  chariot  so 
long  in  coming?  Why  do  his  coursers  proceed 
so  slow?  "  VViicn  shall  I  come  and  appear  be- 
fore God,"  Ps.  xl.  2. 

My  brethren,  in  what  language  have  I  been 
speaking?  How  few  understand  it!  To  how 
many  does  it  seem  an  unknown  tongue!  But 
we  have  to  blame  ourselves  alone  if  we  are  not 
anointed  in  this  way,  and  sealed  by  the  Holy 
Ghost;  and  if  we  do  not  ])articipate  in  these 
foretastes  of  eternity,  which  are  the  genuine 
earnests  of  heaven.  But  ah!  our  ta.sle  is  spoil- 
ed in  the  world.  We  have  contracted  the  low 
habits  of  seeking  happiness  solely  in  the  recrea- 
tions of  the  ago.  Most,  even  of  those  who  con- 
form to  the  precepts  of  piety,  do  it  by  con- 
straint. We  obey  God,  merely  because  he  is 
God.  We  feel  not  the  unutterable  sweetness 
in  these  appellations  of  Father,  Friend,  and 
Benefactor,  under  which  he  is  revealed  by  re- 
ligion. We  do  not  conceive  that  his  sole  ob- 
ject, with  regard  to  man,  is  to  make  him  hap- 
py. But  the  world, — the  world, — is  the  object 
Vol.  II.— 10 


which  attracts  the  heart,  and  the  heart  of  the 
best  nmongst  us. 

Let  ns  then  love  the  world,  seeing  it  has 
pleased  (Jod  to  unite  ns  to  it  by  ties  so  tender. 
Let  us  endeavour  to  advance  our  families,  to 
add  a  little  lustre  to  our  name,  and  some  con- 
sJKlency  to  what  is  denominated  fortune.  But 
O!  after  all,  let  us  regard  these  things  in  their 
true  light.  Let  us  rcfollcct  that,  upon  earth, 
man  can  only  have  transient  ha|)pincss.  My 
fortune  is  not  essential  to  my  felicity;  the  lustre 
of  my  name  is  not  essential  to  my  felicity;  the 
estahlisliinent  of  my  family  is  not  essential  to 
my  felicity;  and,  since  none  of  these  things  are 
essential  to  my  hapj)iness,  the  great  God,  the 
lieing  supremely  gracious,  has  without  the 
least  violation  of  his  goodness,  left  them  in  the 
uncertainty  and  vicissitude  of  all  sublunary 
bliss.  But  njy  salvation,  my  salvation,  is  far 
above  the  vicissitudes  of  life.  "The  mountains 
shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  moved;  but  my 
kindness  shall  not  depart  from  thee,  neither 
shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed," 
Isa.  liv.  10.  "Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the  hea- 
vens, and  look  upon  the  earth  beneath:  for  the 
heavens  shall  vanish  away  like  smoke,  and  the 
earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment;  but  my  sal- 
vation shall  be  for  ever,  and  my  righteousness 
shall  not  be  abolished,"  Isa.  li.  6.  May  God 
indulge  our  hope,  and  crown  it  with  success. 
Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXVII. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


Matthew  xii.  46 — 50. 

While  he  yet  talked  to  the  people,  behold  his  mo- 
ther, and  his  brethren  stood  tcitliout,  desiiing  to 
S])eak  ^cith  him.  Then  one  said  nnto  him,  be- 
hold, thy  mother,  and  thy  brethren  stand  icith- 
out,  desiring  to  speak  n-ilh  thee.  But  he  an- 
siccred  and  said  unto  him  that  told  him,  Who  is 
my  mother?  And  who  arc  my  brethren?  And 
he  stretched  forth  his  hand  towards  his  disciples, 
and  said,  Jkhold  my  mother,  and  my  brethren. 
For  whosoercr  shall  do  the  irill  of  my  Father 
n-hich  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother. 

Hk  "  said  unto  his  father  and  to  his  mother, 
I  have  not  seen  him;  neither  did  he  acknow- 
ledge his  brethren,  nor  know  his  own  children," 
Deut.  xxxiii.  9.  So  Moses  said  of  the  tribe  of 
Levi.  Was  it  to  reproach,  or  applaud?  Fol- 
lowing the  fiist  impression  of  this  sentence,  it 
contains  undoubtedly  a  sharp  rebuke,  and  a 
deep  reproach.  In  what  more  unfavourable 
light  could  we  view  the  Lévites:  What  became 
of  their  natural  alfection,  on  disowning  the 
persons  to  whom  they  were  united  by  ties  So 
tender,  on  plunging  their  weapons  in  the  breasts 
of  those  who  gave  them  birth? 

But  raising  the  mind  sufwrior  to  flesh  and 
blood,  if  you  consider  the  words  as  connected 
with  the  occasion  to  which  they  refer,  you  will 
find  an  illustrious  character  of  those  ministers 
of  the  living  Gm\;  and  one  of  the  finest  pane- 
gyrics which  mortals  ever  received. 

Nature  and  religion,  it  is  admitted,  require 
us  to  love  our  neighbour,  especially  tho  meu- 


314 


TIIK  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


[Ser.  LXXXVII. 


bera  of  our  families,  as  ourselves;  and  if  we 
may  so  speak,  as  our  own  substance.  But  if  it 
be  a  duty  to  love  our  neighbour,  it  is  not  less 
adtiiissible,  that  we  ought  to  "  love  God  with 
all  our  heart,  with  all  our  soul,  and  with  all 
our  mind."  In  fact  we  ought  to  love  God 
alone.  Farther,  our  love  to  him  ougiit  to  be 
the  centre  of  every  other  love:  when  the  latter 
is  at  variance  with  the  former,  God  must  have 
the  preference;  when  we  can  no  longer  love 
father  and  motlier  witiioiit  ceasing  to  love  God, 
our  duty  is  determined;  we  must  cease  to  love 
our  parent»,  that  our  love  may  return  to  its 
centre.  These  were  the  dispositions  of  the 
Lévites.  Obedient  children,  atfectionate  bre- 
thren, they  rendered  to  the  persons  to  whom 
God  had  united  them,  every  duty  required  by 
so  close  a  connexion.  But  when  those  persons 
revolted  against  God,  when  they  paid  supreme 
devotion  "  to  an  ox  that  eateth  grass,"  as  the 
Psalmist  says;  when  the  Lévites  received  this 
commandment  from  God,  their  Lawgiver  and 
Supreme;  "  Put  every  man  his  sword  by  his 
aide,  and  go  in  and  out  from  gate  to  gate 
throughout  the  camp,  and  slay  every  man  his 
brother;  and  every  man  his  companion,  and 
every  man  his  neighbour,"  E.xod.  xx.\ii.  27. 
Then  the  Lévites  knew  neither  brother,  nor 
friend,  nor  kinsman.  By  this  illustrious  zeal, 
they  acquired  tiie  encomium,  "  He  said  to  his 
father  and  his  mother,  I  have  not  seen  them; 
and  to  his  brethren,  and  his  children,  I  have 
not  known  them." 

My  brcliireii,  if  we  must  break  the  closest 
ties  witii  those  who  dissolve  the  bonds  of  union 
with  God,  we  ouglit  to  form  the  most  intimate 
connexion  witii  tiiose  who  arc  joined  to  him 
by  the  sincerest  piety.  Tlie  degree  of  attacii- 
ment  they  liave  for  God,  should  proportion  the 
degree  of  attachment  we  have  for  them.  Of 
this  disposition  you  have,  in  the  words  of  my 
text,  a  model  the  most  worthy  of  imitation. 
One  apprised  Jesus  Christ,  tiiat  his  mother  and 
brethren  requested  to  speak  with  him.  "  Who 
is  my  mother.'  And  who  are  my  brethren?"  re- 
plied he;  "  And  stretching  forth  his  hand  to- 
wards his  disciples,  he  said.  Behold  my  mother, 
and  my  brethren,  for  whosoever  shall  do  the 
will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the  same 
is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother." 

The  nobility  of  this  world,  those  men  of 
whom  the  Holy  Spirit  somewhere  says,  "  Men 
of  high  degree  are  a  lie,"  have  by  this  consi- 
deration been  accustomed  to  enhance  the  dig- 
nity of  their  descent.  Titles  and  dignities,  say 
they,  may  be  purchased  with  money,  obtained 
by  favour,  or  acquired  by  distinguished  actions; 
but  real  nobility  cannot  be  bought,  it  is  trans- 
mitted by  an  illustrious  succession  of  ancestors, 
which  monarchs  are  unable  to  confer,  ('hris- 
tian!  obscure  mortal!  offscouring  of  the  world! 
dust  and  ashes  of  the  eartii,  whose  father  was 
an  Amorite,  and  whose  mother  was  a  flittite, 
the  source  of  true  nobility  is  opened  to  thee; 
it  is  thy  exclusive  prerogative,  (and  may  the 
thought  animate,  with  holy  ambition,  every 
one  in  this  assembly!)  it  is  thy  exclusive  pre- 
rogative to  be  admitted  into  the  family  of  the 
blessed  God.  Take  his  moral  perfections  for 
thy  model;  and  thou  shalt  have  his  glory  for 
thy  reward.    To  thee  Jeaus  Christ  will  extend 


his  hand;  to  thee  he  will  say,  hero  is  my  bro- 
ther, and  mother,  and  sister. 

The  Holy  Spirit  presents  a  double  object  in 
the  words  of  my  text. 

I.  The  family  of  Jesus  Christ  according  to 
the  flesh. 

II.  The  family  of  Jesus  Christ  according  to 
the  Spirit.  "One  said,  thy  mother,  and  thy 
brethren,  desire  to  speak  with  thee."  Here  is 
the  family  of  Jesus  Christ  according  to  the 
flesh.  "  Who  is  my  mother.'  and  who  are  my 
brethren?  Whosoever  siiall  do  the  will  of  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my 
brother,  and  sister,  and  mother."  Here  is  the 
family  of  Jesus  Christ  according  to  the  Spirit. 
Both  these  objects  nujst  be  kept  in  view. 

I.  The  idea  which  our  Divine  Master  has 
given  us  of  this  first  family,  will  supersede  our 
minuter  efibrts  to  trace  its  origin.  It  is  obvi- 
ous from  what  he  has  said,  that  our  chief  at- 
tention should  be  to  develop  the  character  of 
those  who  belong  to  his  family,  according  to 
the  Spirit,  rather  than  to  trace  those  who  be- 
long to  him  according  to  the  flesh.  Whatever, 
therefore,  concerns  this  Divine  Saviour,  claims, 
though  not  equal,  at  least  some  degree  of  at- 
tention. For  we  find  in  our  researches  con- 
cerning the  family  of  Jesus  Christ,  according 
to  the  flesh,  proofs  of  his  being  the  true  Mes- 
siah, and  consequently  information  which  con- 
tributes to  the  confirmation  of  our  faith. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  determining  con- 
cerning the  identity  of  the  person,  called  in 
my  text,  the  mother  of  Jesus.  The  expression 
ougiit  to  be  literally  understood;  it  designates 
that  holy  woman,  whose  happiness  all  ages 
must  magnify,  she,  by  peculiar  privilege,  be- 
ing chosen  of  God  to  be  "overshadowed  by 
tiie  Highest,"  to  bear  in  her  sacred  womb,  and 
bring  into  the  world,  the  Saviour  of  men.  She 
is  called  Mary,  she  was  of  the  tril)e  of  Judah, 
and  of  the  family  of  David.  This  is  nearly 
all  we  know  of  her;  and  this  is  nearly  all  we 
ought  to  know,  in  order  to  recognise  in  our 
Jesus,  one  characteristic  of  the  true  Messiah, 
who,  according  to  early  predictions,  was  to  de- 
scend of  this  tribe,  and  of  this  family. 

It  is  true  that  Cclsus,  Porphyry,  Julian, 
those  execrable  men,  distinguished  by  their 
hatred  of  Christianity,  have  disputed  even  this: 
at  least,  they  have  defied  us  to  prove  it.  They 
have  insinuated,  that  there  are  so  niiiny  con- 
trarieties in  the  genealogies  of  St.  Luke,  and 
St.  Matthew,  concerning  tlic  ancestors  of  our 
Jesus,  as  to  leave  the  pretensions  of  his  descent 
from  David,  atid  Judah,  uncertain.  It  is  to 
be  regretted,  that  the  manner  in  which  some 
divines,  and  divines  of  distinguished  name, 
have  replied  to  this  oi)jection,  has,  in  fact, 
given  it  weight,  and  seemed  the  last  efforts  of 
a  desperate  cause,  rather  than  a  satisfactory 
solution. 

Is  it  a  solution  of  this  difficulty?  is  it  a  proof 
that  Jesus  descended  from  tiie  family  of  David, 
as  had  been  predicted,  to  say  that  the  evange- 
lists insert  the  genealogy  of  Joseph,  and  omit 
that  of  Mary,  Jesos  Christ  being  reputed  the 
son  of  a  carpenter,  and  having  been  probably 
adopted  by  him,  was  invested  with  all  his 
rights,  the  genealogy  of  tiie  reputed  father, 
anid  the  adopted   son,  being  accounted  the 


Ser.  LXXXVII.] 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


315 


same,  thougn  of  different  extraction?  Would 
not  thia  liavc  been  the  way  to  flatter  a  lie,  not 
to  establish  a  truth?  Did  the  prophets  merely 
say,  tiiat  the  Messiah  was  the  reputed  son  of  a 
man  descended  from  David's  line?  Did  lliey 
not  say  in  a  manner  the  most  clear  and  ex- 
plicit in  the  world,  that  he  was  lineally  de- 
scended from  that  family?  Is  it  a  solution  of 
the  dilficulty,  to  say  that  Mary  was  heiress  of 
her  house,  that  the  heiresses  were  tjblifred  by 
the  law,  to  marry  in  their  own  tribe;  and  that 
givinp  the  genealogy  of  Joseph,  was  giving 
the  genealogy  of  Mary,  to  whom  he  was  be- 
trothed? Is  it  not  ratlier  a  supposition  of  the 
point  in  dispute?  And  what  record  have  we 
h.l't  of  Mary's  family  sufliciently  authentic  to 
prove  it' 

la  it  a  solution  of  the  difficulty  to  say,  that 
St.  Matthew  gives  the  genealogy  of  Christ, 
considered  as  a  king,  and  St.  Luke  the  gene- 
alogy of  Christ,  considered  as  a  priest;  that 
the  one  gives  the  genealogy  of  Mary,  whom 
they  pretend  was  of  the  tribe  of  Levi,  which 
establishes  the  right  of  Christ  to  the  high- 
priesthood;  the  other  gives  the  genealogy  of 
Joseph,  descended  from  David's  family,  which 
tîstablishes  his  right  to  the  kingdom'  Is  not 
this  opjiosing  the  words  of  St.  Paul  witli  a 
l>old  front'  "  If  perfection  were  by  the  Leviti- 
cal  priesthood,  what  farther  need  was  there 
that  another  priest  should  rise  after  the  order 
of  Melchisedec,  and  not  to  be  called  after  the 
order  of  Aaron.  For  he  of  whom  these  things 
are  spoken,  pertaineth  to  another  tribe,  of 
which  no  man  gave  attendance  at  the  altar; 
for  it  is  evident  that  our  Lord  sprang  out  of 
Judah;  of  which  Moses  spake  nothing  concern- 
ing the  priesthood after  the  similitude 

of  Melchisedec  there  arises  another  priest,  who 
is  made,  not  after  the  law  of  carnal  command- 
ments, but  after  the  power  of  an  endless  life," 
Heb.  vii.  11 — 13.  These  are  the  words  of  our 
apostle. 

Without  augmenting  the  catalogue  of  mis- 
taken solutions  of  this  difficulty,  we  shall  at- 
tend to  that  which  seema  the  only  true  one. 
It  is  this:  St.  Matthew  gives  the  genealogy  of 
Joseph,  the  reputed  father  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
he  is  so  called  in  the  second  chapter,  and  for- 
ty-eighth verse  of  St.  Luke.  And  it  is  very 
important,  that  posterity  should  know  the 
family  of  the  illustrious  personage,  to  whose 
superintendence  Providence  had  committed 
the  Messiah  in  early  life. 

St.  Luke  gives  the  genealogy  of  Mary,  to 
identify  that  Jesus  Christ  had  the  essential 
characteristic  of  the  Messiah,  by  his  descent 
from  David's  family.  It  was  also  very  impor- 
tant for  posterity  to  know  that  he  descended 
from  David;  that  he  had  a  right  to  the  throne, 
not  only  as  being  the  reputed  son  of  one  of 
his  offspring,  who  could  confer  it  by  adoption; 
but  also  that  being  conceived  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  having  for  his  motlier  a  woman  de- 
scended from  David,  according  to  the  flesh,  he 
liimself  descended  from  him,  as  much  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  being  to  descend,  introduced  so 
supernaturally  into  the  world. 

According  to  what  has  been  advanced,  it 
may  be  objected,  that  there  is  no  mention  made 
of  Riary  in  the  latter  genealogy,  njore  than  in 
the  former,  that  both  conceru  Joseph  aloce; 


that  St.  Luke,  whom  wo  presume  to  have 
given  the  genealogy  of  Mary,  closes  his  cata- 
logue with  the  name  of  Joseph,  as  well  as  St. 
.Matthew,  whom  we  allow  to  have  given  the 
genealogy  of  Mary's  husband. 

Hut  this  objection  can  strike  those  only,  who 
are  unac(|uainted  with  the  method  uniformly 
adopted  by  the  Jews,  in  giving  liio  genealogy 
of  married  women.  They  subslitulc^d  the  name 
of  the  husband  for  that  of  llie  wife,  consider- 
ing a  man's  son-in-law  as  his  own  offspring. 
According  to  this  usage,  which  I  could  support 
by  numerous  authorities,  these  words  of  St. 
Luke,  "  Jesus  began  to  be  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  being,  as  was  supposed,  the  son  of  Jo- 
seph, which  was  tJH?  son  of  Heli,"  amount  to 
this,  "Jesus  l>egan  to  be  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  being,  as  was  supposed,  the  son  of  Joseph, 
which  was  the  son-in-law  of  Ileli,"  having  be- 
trothed his  daughter  Mary.  This  is  suflicient 
on  the  genealogy  of  Mary. 

But  who  are  those  called  by  the  evangelist, 
brethren  of  Christ?  "  One  said  unto  him,"  and 
these  are  tha  words  of  my  text,  "  Behold  thy 
tnother,  and  thy  brethren,  stand  without,  de- 
siring to  speak  with  thee." 

The  opinion  which  has  had  the  fewest  parti- 
sans, and  fewer  still  it  merits  (nor,  should  we 
notice  it  here,  were  it  not  to  introduce  a  gene- 
ral remark,  that  there  never  was  an  opinion, 
how  extravagant  soever,  but  it  found  support- 
ers among  the  learned,)  the  opinion,  I  say,  is 
that  of  some  of  the  ancients-,  they  have  ven- 
tured to  affirm,  that  tlie  persons  called  in  my 
text,  tile  brethren  of  C'hrist,  were  sons  of  the 
holy  virgin,  by  a  former  husband.  To  name 
this  opinion  is  sufficient  for  its  refutation. 

The  conjecture  of  some  critics,  though  less 
extravagant,  is  equally  far  from  truth;  they 
presume,  that  the  brethren  of  Christ  were  sons 
of  Joseph:  a  single  remark  will  supersede  this 
notion.  Four  persons  are  called  the  brethren 
of  Christ,  as  appears  from  Matt.  xiii.  54;  it  is 
there  said,  that  his  acquaintance,  the  people  of 
Nazareth,  talked  of  him  in  this  way;  "Whence 
hath  this  man  this  wisdom,  and  these  mighty 
works?  Is  not  this  the  carpenter's  son?  Is  not 
his  mother  called  Mary?  and  his  brethren, 
James,  and  Joscs,  and  Simon,  and  Judas?  Thia 
James  is  unquestionably  the  same  who  is  called 
the  less.  Now  it  is  indisputable  that  he  was 
the  son  of  Mary,  who  was  living  at  our  Sa- 
viour's death:  she  was  sister  to  the  holy  virgin, 
and  stood  with  her  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  dur- 
ing the  crucifixion.  Hence,  if  James  were  the 
son  of  Joseph,  he  must  have  been  betrothed 
to  the  holy  virgin,  while  married  to  her  sister, 
who  was  living  when  l>e  contracted  his  second 
marriage,  which  is  insupportable. 

Let  us,  therefore,  follow  here  the  general 
course  of  interpreters.  The  name  of  brethren, 
is  not  always  used  in  the  strictest  sense  by  the 
sacred  authors.  It  is  not  peculiarly  applied  to 
those  who  have  the  same  father  and  the  same 
mother:  it  frequently  refers  to  the  relatives 
less  connected.  In  this  sense  we  use  it  here. 
Mary,  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  was  sister  to  the 
holy  virgin;  and  the  term  sister  the  evangelists 
apply  in  the  closest  sense.  She  had  four  sons, 
above  named,  and  they  are  called  the  brethren 
of  Christ,  because  they  were  his  cousins-ger- 
man.     She  had  two  daughters,  who  for  the 


316 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


[Ser.  LXXXVII. 


same  reasons,  arc  called  his  sisters.  If  this  hy- 
pothesis be  aitendcd  with  some  dilKculties,  this 
is  not  till'  place  for  tlieir  removal. 

It  was  a  most  ylorions  consideration  to  the 
holv  virgin,  to  James,  to  Judas,  to  Joses,  to 
Siinoii,  and  to  their  sister,  to  be  so  nearly  re- 
lated to  .lesus  {'lirist  in  the  ilesh.  How  ho- 
nournble  to  say,  tliis  man,  whose  sermons  arc 
so  sublime, — this  man,  whoso  voice  inverts  the 
laws  of  nature, — this  man,  whom  winds,  seas, 
and  elements  obey, — is  my  brother,  is  my  son! 
So  the  woman  exclaimed,  after  hearini,'  him 
so  conclusively  refute  tiie  artful  interrogations 
of  his  enemies.  "Blessed  is  the  womb  that 
bare  thee,  and  the  paps  which  thou  hast  suck- 
ed." But  how  superior  are  tiie  ties,  which 
unite  the  family  of  Jesus  Christ  according  to 
the  Spirit,  to  those  which  unite  them  accord- 
ing to  the  tlcsli!  So  he  said  to  tiie  woman 
above  named,  "  Yea,  rather  blessed  are  they 
that  hear  the  word  of  God  and  keep  it,"  Luke 
xi.  21,  28.  In  my  text,  when  ap[)rized  that 
his  most  intimate  relations,  in  the  Hesh,  desir- 
ed an  audience,  he  acknowledged  none  to  be 
of  his  family  but  the  spiritually  noble.  "  Be- 
hold thy  mother,  and  thy  brethren,"  said  one, 
"stand  without,  desiring  to  speak  with  thee. 
Who  is  my  mothei?  and  who  are  my  brethren?" 
replied  he,  "and  he  stretched  forth  his  hand 
towards  his  disciples,  and  said,  behold  my  mo- 
ther, and  my  brethren.  For  whosoever  shall 
do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven, 
the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mo- 
ther." This  we  shall  proceed  to  illustrate  in 
the  second  part  of  our  discourse. 

II.  Our  Saviour  did  not,  in  these  words,  de- 
sign to  exclude  from  his  spiritual  family  all 
those  who  belonged  to  his  family  in  the  tlesh. 
Who  can  entertain  any  doubt  but  that  the  holy 
virgin,  who  belonged  to  the  latter,  did  not  also 
belong  to  the  former?  Whoever  carried  to 
greater  perfection  than  this  holy  woman,  piety, 
humility,  obedience  to  the  divine  precepts,  and 
every  other  virtue  which  has  distinguished 
saints  of  the  highest  order? 

The  Scriptures  afford  also  various  examples 
of  the  love  of  Mary,  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  to 
Jesus  Christ.  She  followed  him  to  Jerusalem 
when  he  went  up  to  consummate  the  grand  sa- 
crifice, for  which  ho  came  into  the  world;  siie 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  with  the  holy  vir- 
gin, when  he  actually  otlcred  up  himself;  she 
went  to  water  his  tomb  with  her  tears,  when 
apprized  of  his  nsurrcctiim. 

As  to  those  whom  the  evangelists  call  the 
brethren  of  Clirist,  J  confess,  that  to  him  they 
were  not  equally  devoted.  St.  John  atlirms  ex- 
pressly, "That  his  brctliren  did  not  believe  in 
liim,"  John  vii.  5.  I'.ut  whetlier  we  may  take 
this  assertion  in  a  more  extended  sense  than  in 
the  text:  or  whether  St.  .loim  s|)ake  of  the  early 
period  of  our  Saviour's  ministry;  certain  it  is, 
that  among  the  four  persons  here  called  the 
brethren  nf"ciirixl,  all  of  Ibem  had  received  the 
seeds  of  piety,  and  avowed  his  cause;  as  I  could 
prove,  if  the  limits  of  this  discourse  would-  per- 
mit. 

If,  therefore,  Jesus  Christ  designated  none  as 
the  members  of  his  spiritual  family,  but  those 
who  were  then  recognised  as  his  disciples,  it  was 
not  intended  to  exclude  his  relatives  according 
to  the  flesh,  but  to  mark  that  the  former  then 


afforded  more  distinguished  evidences  of  their 
faith  and  devotion  to  the  will  of  his  Father. 

Neither  was  it  our  Saviour's  design, — when 
he  seemed  to  disown  his  brethren,  and  his  mo- 
ther, |)roperly  speaking, — to  detach  us  from 
persons  to  whom  we  are  united  by  consangui- 
nity, and  to  supersede  the  duties  required  by 
those  endearing  connexions.  By  no  means: 
those  affectionate  fathers,  who  have  invariably 
sought  the  happiness  of  their  children; — those 
children,  who,  animated  with  gratitude,  after 
sharing  the  indulgence  of  a  father  during  his 
vigour,  become,  when  age  has  chilled  his  blood, 
and  enfeebled  his  reason,  the  support  of  his  de- 
clining years; — those  brothers  who  afibrd  ex- 
amples of  union  and  concord, — are  actuated  by 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  laws  of  na- 
ture ought,  in  this  view,  to  have  a  preference 
to  the  laws  of  grace.  I  would  say,  that,  al- 
though religion  may  unite  us  more  closely  to  a 
pious  stranger,  than  to  an  impious  father,  I 
think  it  the  duty  of  a  child  to  bestow  more  care 
in  cherishing  a  wicked  father,  than  a  deserving 
stranger. 

What  our  Saviour  would  say  in  the  text  is, 
that  though  he  had  a  family  according  to  the 
flesh,  he  had  also  a  preferable  family  according 
to  the  Spirit;  and  that  the  members  of  his  spi- 
ritual fan)ily  are  more  closely  united  to  him 
than  the  members  of  his  natural  household.  Of 
this  spiritual  family  I  proceed  to  speak.  And 
I  have  further  to  say,  my  dear  brethren,  that  I 
would  associate  you  in  this  spiritual  family,  in 
the  latter  period  of  tliis  discourse.  Condescend 
to  follow  us  in  the  few  remarks  we  have  yet  to 
make.  We  will  show,  1.  The  nature,  and  2. 
Tlie  strength  of  this  family  connexion.  3.  Its 
effects;  or  to  speak  with  more  propriety,  its 
wonders.  4.  Its  superior  felicity.  5.  The  per- 
sons it  includes. 

1.  The  nature  of  this  relation  consists  insin- 
cere obedience  to  the  will  of  God.  "  Whosoever 
shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father,  the  same  is  my 
brother,  and  sister,  and  mother."  Here  we 
have  two  extremes  to  avoid:  the  one  is  the 
forming  of  too  severe  an  idea,  the  other  of  con- 
ceiving notions  too  relaxed,  of  this  disposition 
of  heart. 

Do  not,  therefore,  conceive  too  severe  an  idea 
of  obedience.  I  do  not  mean,  that  devotion  to 
the  will  of  God  can  ever  be  carried  too  far. 
No!  though  you  were  ready,  like  Abraham,  to 
iuunolate  an  only  son;  though  you  had  such 
exalted  views  of  "the  recompense  of  the  re- 
ward," that,  like  Moses,  you  would  prefer  the 
reproach  of  Christ  to  Egypt  and  its  treasures; 
though  you  had  the  fervourof  Elijah,  the  piety 
of  Uavid,  the  zealof  Josiah,  the  atfection  of  St. 
John,  and  the  energy  of  St.  Peter;  though  you 
were  all  ready,  like  the  cloud  of  witnesses  men- 
tioned in  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  to  be 
stoned,  to  be  slain,  to  endure  cruel  torments,  to 
be  killed  with  the  sword,  to  wander  about  in 
sheep-skins,  and  in  goat-skins,  in  deserts  and 
mountains,  in  dons  and  caves  of  the  earth,  you 
would  not  exceed  a  due  devotion  to  the  will  of 
God. 

But  though  it  is  not  possible  to  carry  this  dis- 
position too  far,  it  is,  nevertheless,  possible  to 
exaggerate  that  degree  which  constitutes  us 
members  of  the  Saviour's  spiritual  family.  He 
knows  whereof  we  are  made.     Religion  is  not 


Ser.  LXXXVII.] 


THE  FAlvnLY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


317 


for  angels,  but  for  men;  and,  however  holy  men 
may  be,  their  virtues  always  participate  of  tlie 
infirmities  iiisei)arable  from  human  nature. 
Those  (li.sciples,  towards  whom  Jesus  Christ 
extended  his  hand,  committed,  during  the  early 
period  of  tlicir  piety,  faults,  and  great  faults  too. 
They  sometimes  misconceived  the  object  of 
their  mission;  sometimes  distrusted  his  promises; 
they  were  sometimes  slow  of  heart  to  believe 
the  facts  announci.'d  by  the  proplicis;  they  once 
slept  when  they  ought  to  have  sustained  tlieir 
Master  in  his  agony;  they  abandoned  hini  to  his 
e.vecutioners;  and  one  denied  knowing  him, 
oven  with  an  oath,  and  that  he  was  his  disciple. 
Virtue,  even  the  most  sincere  and  i)crfect,  is 
liable  to  wide  deviations,  to  total  eclipses,  and 
great  faults: — iience,  on  this  subject,  you  should 
avoid  too  severe  a  standard. 

But  you  should  equally  avoid  forming  of  it 
notions  too  relaxed.  Do  you  claim  kindred 
with  the  spiritual  family  of  Jesus  Christ.'  Do 
you  claim  the  same  intimacy  with  the  Saviour 
which  a  man  has  with  his  brother,  his  sister, 
and  his  mother.'  Tremble  then,  wiiile  you  hear 
these  words  of  St.  Paul,  "What  fellowship  hath 
righteousness  with  unrighteousness.'  what  com- 
munion hath  light  witii  darkness;  and  what  con- 
cord hath  Christ  witli  Belial.'"  2  Cor.  vi.  1-1,  15. 
Tremble  while  )'ou  hear  these  words  of  Christ, 
"  No  man  can  serve  two  masters,"  jMatt.  vi.  -  !. 
Or,  to  unfold  to  you  a  more  detailed  held  of 
reflection,  do  you  not  exceedingly  mistake  con- 
cerning obedience  to  the  will  of  God.' 

The  will  of  God  not  only  requires  negative 
virtues,  which  consist  in  abstaining  from  evil; 
but  positive  virtues  also,  wiiich  consist  not  in  a 
mere  refraining  from  slander,  but  in  reprehend- 
ing the  slanderer; — not  in  a  mere  refusal  to  re- 
ceive your  neiglibour's  goods,  but  in  a  commu- 
nication of  your  own; — not  only  in  abstaining 
from  blasphemy  against  God,  but  also  in  bless- 
ing him  at  all  times,  and  in  having  your  mouth 
full  of  his  praise. 

The  will  of  God  not  only  requires  of  you 
popular  virtues,  as  sincerity,  fidelity,  courage, 
and  submission  to  the  laws,  are  generally  ac- 
counted; it  also  requires  those  very  virtues 
which  are  degraded  by  the  world,  and  consi- 
dered as  a  weakness;  sucii  as  forgiveness  of  in- 
juries, and  contempt  of  worldly  pomp. 

The  will  of  God  not  only  requires  virtues  cor- 
respondent to  your  temperature,  as  retirement, 
if  you  are  naturally  sullen  and  reserved;  absti- 
nence from  pleasure,  if  you  are  naturally  ])eii- 
sivo  and  dull;  patience,  if  you  arc  naturally 
phlegmatic,  heavy  and  indolent:  it  likewise  re- 
quires virtues  tiie  most  opposite  to  your  tem- 
perature; as  purity,  if  you  are  inclined  to  con- 
cupiscence; moderation,  if  you  are  of  an  angry 
disposition. 

The  will  of  God  requires,  not  mutilated  vir- 
tues, but  a  constellation  of  virtues,  approaching 
to  perfection.  It  rccpiires  "whatsoever  things 
are  pure,  whatsoever  tilings  are  lovely;  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  that 
you  should  think  on  these,"  Phil.  iv.  S.  It  re- 
quires you  to  add,  "  to  faith,  virtue;  to  virtue, 
knowledge;  and  to  knowledge,  temperance;  and 
to  temperance,  patience;  and  to  patience,  god- 
liness; and  to  godliness,  brotherly-kindness;  and 
to  brotlierly-kindness,  charity,"  2  Pet.  i.  5 — 7. 

The  will  of  God  requires  not  an  immaturity 


of  virtue,  checked  in  its  growth;  it  requires  you 
to  carry,  or  endeavour  to  carry,  every  virtue  to 
the  highest  degree;  to  have  perfection  for  your 
end,  and  Jesus  Clirist  for  your  pattern. 

-'.  and  3.  After  having  reviewed  the  nature, 
and  consequently  the  excellency  of  this  con- 
nexion, let  us  next  consider  its  strength.  What 
we  shall  say  on  this  head,  naturally  turns  our 
thoughts  towards  its  prodigies  and  elFects.  The 
power  of  this  connexion  is  so  strong,  that  the 
metnbers  of  this  spiritual  family  are  incompara- 
bly more  closely  united  to  one  another,  than 
tiie  members  of  a  carnal  family.  This  is  ob- 
vioiis  in  the  words  of  my  text.  Our  Saviour 
has  borrowed  figures  from  whatever  was  most 
endearing  in  civil  society,  and  even  from  con- 
nexions of  the  most  opposite  nature,  in  order  to 
elevate  our  ideas  of  the  union  which  subsists 
between  him  and  the  members  of  his  family; 
and  of  the  union  they  have  one  witii  another: 
"  Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother.  In  this  idea  there  is  no 
exaggeration.  Associate  whatever  is  most  en- 
dearing between  a  brother  and  brother;  between 
a  brother  and  a  sister;  between  a  child  and  a 
parent;  associate  the  whole  of  these  different 
parts  in  one  body,  and  imagine,  if  it  be  possible 
to  conceive  an  object  still  more  closely  united, 
than  the  dilR-rent  parts  of  tliis  body;  and  your 
views  will  still  be  imperfect  of  tiie  ties  which 
subsist  between  tlie  members  of  Jesus  Christ's 
spiritual  family. 

They  have  in  common,  first  a  union  of  de- 
sign. In  all  their  actions  they  individually  have 
in  view  nothing  but  tlie  glory  of  that  Sovereign 
whom  they  serve  with  emulation;  and  to  whom 
they  are  all  unanimously  devoted. 

Tiiey  have,  secondly,  a  union  of  inclination. 
God  is  the  centre  of  their  love;  and  being  thus 
united  to  him,  as  the  tlilrd  (if  I  may  borrow  an 
idea  from  the  schoolmen,}  they  are  united  one 
to  another. 

Thirdly,  they  have  a  union  of  interest.  They 
arc  all  equally  interested  to  see  the  government 
of  the  universe  in  the  hands  of  their  Sovereign. 
His  hai)piness  constitutes  their  felicity,  and 
each  equally  aspires  after  communion  with  the 
blessed  God. 

They  have,  fourthly,  a  union  coeval  in  its 
existence.  Go  back  to  the  ages  preceding  the 
world,  and  you  will  see  the  members  of  this 
spiritual  family  united  in  the  bosom  of  divine 
mercy; — even  from  the  moment  they  were  dis- 
tinguished as  the  objects  of  his  tenderest  love, 
and  most  distinguished  grace;  even  from  the 
moment  the  victim  was  appointed  to  be  immo- 
lated in  sacrifice  for  their  sins.  Descend  to  the 
present  period  of  the  world:  let  us  say  more; — 
look  forward  to  futurit)',  and  you  will  find  them 
ever  miited,  in  the  noble  design  of  incessantly 
glorifying  the  Author  of  their  existence  and 
felicity. 

1  lence  you  sec  the  prodigies  produced  by  this 
connexion.  You  see  what  Jesus  Christ  has 
done  for  those  who  are  united  in  devotion  to  his 
Father's  will.  His  incarnation,  his  passion,  his 
cross,  his  Spirit,  his  grace,  his  intercession,  his 
kingdom, — nothing  is  accounted  too  precious 
for  men,  joined  to  him  by  those  tender  and  en- 
dearing ties. 

You  see  likewise,  what  the  men  united  to 


318 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


[Ser.  LXXXVII. 


Jesus  Christ  are  qualified  to  do  one  for  another: 
they  are  all  of  one  heart  and  one  soul,  and  are 
ever  ready  to  make  the  mutual  sacrifices  of  be- 
nevolence and  love. 

4.  The  ties  which  connect  the  members  of 
Jesus  Christ's  family  are  not  less  hajjpy  than 
strong.  Connexions  merely  human,  however 
endearingr,  however  delightful,  are  invariably 
accompanied  with  anguish.  What  anguish 
must  attend  a  connexion  cemented  with  vice! 
What  painful  sensations,  even  in  the  midst  of 
a.  criminal  course!  What  remorse  on  reflection 
and  thought:  What  horror  on  viewing  the 
consequences  of  unlawful  pleasures!  On  say- 
ing to  one's  self,  the  recollection  of  this  inter- 
course will  pierce  me  in  a  dying  hour;  this  un- 
happy person,  with  whom  1  am  now  so  closely 
connected,  will  be  my  tormentor  for  ever! 

What  anguish  is  attended  even  on  friend- 
sliip  the  most  innocent,  when  extended  too  far! 
Delightful  connexions,  formed  on  earth  by  con- 
genial souls,  cemented  by  the  intercourse  of 
mutual  love,  and  crowned  with  prosperity: 
delightful  bonds  which  connect  a  father  willi 
a  son,  and  a  son  with  a  father;  a  wife  with  a 
husband,  and  a  husband  with  a  wife;  what  re- 
gret you  produce,  when  death,  the  allotted 
period,  or  end  of  man,  and  of  all  human  com- 
forts,— what  regret  you  cost, — when  death 
compels  us  to  dissolve  these  ties!  Witness  so 
many  Josephs  attending  their  fatliers  to  the 
tomb,  who  had  been  the  glory  of  their  families. 
Witness  so  many  Rachels  "  refusing  to  be 
comforted  because  their  children  are  not," 
Matt.  xi.  18.  Witness  so  many  Davids,  wlio 
exclaim  with  excess  of  grief,  "  O,  my  son 
Absalom — my  son,  my  son  Absalom — would 
to  God  I  had  died  for  thee — O  Absalom,  my 
son,  my  son!  !  !"  2  Sam.  xviii.  33. 

But  in  the  ties  which  connect  the  family  of 
Jesus  Christ,  there  is  no  mixture  of  anguish. 
This  you  may  infer  from  what  we  have  ad- 
vanced; and  your  own  reflections  may  supply 
the  scanty  limits  in  which  we  are  obliged  to 
comprise  this  point. 

6.  We  shall  lastly  consider  the  persons  con- 
nected by  the  bonds  of  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God. 

The  family  of  Jesus  Christ  consist  of  a  selec- 
tion of  all  the  excellent  in  heaven  and  in  eartli. 
So  St.  Paul  has  expressed  himself,  "Of  whom 
the  whole  parentage,"  or  as  the  text  may  be 
read,  "  Of  whom  the  whole  family  in  heaven 
and  in  earth  is  named,"  Eph.  iii.  15.  On 
earth,  the  family  of  Jesus  is  not  distinguished 
by  the  greatness  of  its  number:  and  to  the 
shame  of  the  human  kind,  there  is  a  father 
whose  family  is  far  more  numerous  than  the 
Saviour's:  this  father  is  the  devil.  And  who 
are  the  children  of  the  devil.'  To  this  question 
Jesus  Christ  has  given  us  a  key.  He  said, 
when  speaking  to  the  Pharisees,  "  Ye  are  of 
your  father  tlie  devil,  and  the  lusts  of  vour  fa- 
ther ye  will  do;  he  was  a  miinlorer  from  the 
beginning,  and  abode  not  in  the  truth;  he  is  a 
liar,  and  tiio  father  of  it,"  John  viii.  44.  These 
are  the  two  characteristics  of  his  children;  lying 
and  murder. 

1.  Lying.  If  you  betray  the  truth,  if  you 
employ  your  genius,  your  wit,  your  knowledge, 
to  embarrass  the  truth,  instead  of  employing 
them  for  the  acquisition  of  self-knowledge,  and 
a  communication  of  the  truth  to  others;  if  we 


become  your  enemy  when  we  tell  you  the 
truth,  when  we  combat  your  prejudices,  when 
we  attack  your  errors,  when  we  endeavour  to 
irradiate  your  minds,  and  to  take  the  lamp 
of  revelation  from  beneath  the  bushel;  if  this 
is  your  characteristic,  recognise  in  yourselves 
this  trait  of  your  father,  which  is  lying,  for  he 
is  "  the  father  of  a  lie;"  and  take  to  yourselves 
this  awful  declaration,  "  Ye  are  of  your  father 
the  devil." 

-.  He  is  a  murderer;  and  to  hate  our  neigh- 
bour is,  according  to  the  language  of  Scripture, 
to  kill  him;  for  "  he  that  lialeth  his  brother," 
as  St.  John  has  decided,  "  is  a  murderer," 
John  iii.  15.  Yes,  if  you  obstruct  your  neigh- 
bour's happiness;  if  you  are  envious  at  his 
prosperity:  if  you  are  irritated  by  his  virtues; 
if  mortified  by  his  reputation;  if  you  take  de- 
light in  aggravating  his  real  faults,  and  in  the 
imputation  of  imaginary  defects,  recognise 
another  trait  of  your  father;  apply  to  yourselves 
this  awful  assertion,  which  so  many  may  apply 
with  propriety,  "  Ye  are  of  your  father  the 
devil." 

It  is  nevertheless  true,  that  how  numerous 
soever  the  children  of  the  devil  may  be  on  the 
earth,  Jesus  Christ  has  a  family  among  men: 
and  it  is  composed  of  those  who  believe,  those 
whom  a  sincere  faith  has  invested  with  the 
privilege  of  considering  themselves,  according 
to  St.  John,  as  members  of  the  family  of  God: 
"  To  as  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gave 
he  power,"  which  I  would  render  right,  prero- 
gative, privilege,  "  to  become  the  sons  of  God." 

The  branches  of  God's  spiritual  family  are 
not  always  visible  to  the  eyes  of  tlie  flesh,  but 
they  are  to  the  eyes  of  the  spirit;  they  are  not 
always  objects  of  sense,  but  they  are  objects 
of  faith,  which  assures  us  of  the  continued  ex- 
istence of  a  holy  church.  Sometimes  the  fury 
of  persecution,  which  prevents  us  from  per- 
ceiving them,  drives  them  into  deserts,  and 
causes  them  to  take  refuge  in  dens  and  caves 
of  the  earth.  Sometimes  the  prevalence  of 
calumny  paints  their  character  in  shades  dark 
as  hell,  calls  their  moderation  indolence,  their 
meekness  cowardice,  their  modesty  meanness 
of  mind,  their  firmness  obstinacy,  their  hope 
a  chimera,  their  zeal  illusion  and  enthusiasm. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  veil  of  humility  by  which 
they  conceal  their  virtues,  and  which  causes 
them  to  be  confounded  with  persons  who  have 
no  virtue,  and  to  be  less  esteemed  than  persons 
whose  virtues  are  aflected.  "  Their  kingdom" 
invaiiably  "  is  not  of  this  world:  Now  are  we 
the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  appear  what 
we  shall  be.  We  jire  dead,  and  our  life  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God,"  John  xviii.  36;  1  John  iii. 
•2;  Col.  iii.  3. 

But  tiiough  the  members  of  this  spiritual 
family  are  not  always  visible,  the  reality  of 
their  existence  is  not  diminished.  On  their 
account  the  world  exists.  Their  prayers  stay 
tlie  avenging  arm  of  an  angry  God,  and  save 
the  guilty  world  from  being  crushed  beneath 
the  stroke:  for  their  sakes  he  sometimes  miti- 
gates the  calamities,  with  which  human  crimes 
oblige  him  to  visit  the  nations.  It  is  their  en- 
treaties which  cause  their  God  and  Redeemer 
speedily  to  descend,  and  which  hasten  the 
happy  day  that  is  the  object  of  their  wishes, 
and  subject  of  their  prayers,  "  Come,  Lord 
Jesus — come  quickly." 


Ser.  LXXXVII.] 


THE  FAMILY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 


310 


And  if  the  family  of  Jesus  Christ  is  "  named 
on  earth,"  it  is  more  especially  named  in  hea- 
ven. There  it  exists,  there  it  sliines  in  all  its 
lustre.  Hut  who  are  the  members  of  this  family 
of  Jesus  Christ?  They  are  "  the  redeemed  out 
of  every  kindred,  and  tonjfue,  and  people,  and 
nation."  They  are  the  ambassadors  of  tiie  gua- 
pel,  who  have  "  turned  many  unto  righteous- 
ness; they  shine  as  the  brijjhtness  of  tlio  firma- 
ment, and  as  stars"  of  the  first  magnitude.  They 
are  martyrs,  come  up  out  of  great  tribulation, 
they  are  "  clothed  in  white  robes,  which  they 
have  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb."  They 
are  all  saints,  who  having  fought  under  his 
banner,  participate  the  laurels  of  his  victory. 
They  arc  angels  who  excel  in  strength,  and 
obey  his  voice.  They  are  winged  clierubim, 
who  fly  at  his  command.  They  are  seraphim 
burning  with  his  love.  They  are  the  thousand 
millions  which  serve  him,  and  ten  thousand 
millions  which  stand  before  him.  They  are 
the  "  great  multitude,  whoso  voice  is  in  the 
sound  of  many  waters,"  and  whose  obedience 
to  God  is  crowned  with  glory;  but  they  cast 
their  crowns  before  the  throne,  and  cry  con- 
tinually, "  Hallelujaii — let  us  be  glad  and  re- 
joice, and  give  glory  unto  him." 

Sucli  is  the  spiritual  family  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  such  is  the  Christian  family.  Many  of 
its  members  lie  scattered  in  different  parts  of 
the  earth,  but  the  part  which  is  most  numerous, 
excellent,  and  consummate  in  virtue,  is  in 
heaven.  What  a  consolation!  But  language 
is  too  weak!  What  a  consolation  to  the  be- 
liever, against  whom  old  age,  infirmities,  and 
sickness  have  pronounced  the  sentence  of  death! 
What  a  consolation  to  say  "  My  family  is  in 
heaven;  a  gulf  separates  me,  but  it  is  not  like 
the  gulf  wliich  separates  tiie  damned  from  the 
glorified  spirits,  of  which  Abraham  said  to  the 
rich  man,  "  between  us  and  you  there  is  a  great 
gulf  fixed."  It  is  a  gulf  whose  darkness  is  en- 
lightened by  faith,  whose  horrors  are  assuaged 
by  hope; — it  is  a  gulf  througli  which  we  are 
cheered  and  animated  by  the  voice  of  Christ; — 
a  gulf  from  which  one  final  struggle  shall  in- 
stantly make  us  free. 

Death  is  sometimes  represented  to  me  under 
an  idea  happily  calculated  to  assuage  its  an- 
guish.    There  is  not  one  of  you,  who  has  at- 
tained maturity  of  age,  but  has  frequently  seen 
those  persons  snatched  away  by  death,  who 
constituted  the  greatest  happiness  of  your  life. 
This  is  inevitably  the  lot  of  those  to  whom 
God  accords,  the  jirecious  shall  1  say?  or  the 
sad  privilege  of  running  the  race  of  life.  They 
live,  but  they  see  tliose  daily  taken  away,  whose 
company  attached  them  to  life.     I  look  on 
death  as  reuniting  me  to  those  persons,  whose 
loss  had  occasioned  me  so  many  tears  during 
my  pilgrimage.     I  represent  myself  as  arriving 
in  heaven  and  seeing  tliis  friend  running  to  meet 
me,  to  whom  my  soul  was  united  as  the  soul 
of  David  to  Jonathan.     I  imagine  myself  as 
presented  to  those  ancestors,  whose  memory  is 
so  revered,  and  whose  example  is  so  worthy 
of  imitation.     I    represent  those  children  as 
coming  before  me,  whose  death  affected  me 
with  a  bitter  anguish  which  continued  all  my 
days:  with  those  innocent  creatures  1  see  my- 
self surrounded;  whom  God,  to  promote  their 
happiness,  resumed  by  an  early  death. 


This  idea  of  death,  and  of  the  felicity  which 
follows,  is  extremely  delightful;  and  I  do  most 
sincerely  believe  it;  at  least  I  have  never  yet 
mot  with  a  thought,  which  could  dissuade  me 
from  thinking  that  the  glorified  saints  shall 
enjoy,  in  heaven,  the  society  of  those  with 
whom  they  have  been  so  intimately  connected 
on  earth.  Hut  how  real  and  pleasing  soever 
tills  tliought  may  be,  it  is,  my  dear  brethren, 
far  too  contracted.  Let  us  form  more  exalted 
notions  of  the  happiness  God  has  prepared  for 
us.  Our  family  is  in  heaven,  but  not  exclu- 
sively composed  of  the  small  circle  of  friends  of 
whom  we  have  been  deprived  by  death.  Re- 
collect what  we  have  just  said.  Our  family  is 
composed  of  the  redeemed  "out  of  every  kin- 
dred, and  tongue,  and  people,  and  nation;" — 
of  the  amba-ssadors  of  the  gospel,  "  who  have 
turned  many  to  righteousness,  who  shine  aa 
the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  as  the 
stars  for  ever  and  ever:" — of  martyrs,  "  who 
came  up  out  of  great  tribulation,  who  have 
washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb."  Our  family  is  composed 
of  those  illustrious  saints,  who  have  fought 
under  the  banner  of  Christ,  and  they  now  sit 
down  on  his  throne.  Farther,  our  family  is 
composed  of  those  "angels  that  excel  in 
strength,  and  obey  the  voice  of  God:" — of 
those  cherubim  which  fly  at  his  command. 
Our  family  is  composed  of  those  thousand, 
thousand  millions,  and  ten  thousand  millions 
which  stand  before  him,  and  cast  their  crowns 
before  the  throne  of  Him  who  conferred  the 
dignity  upon  them,  crying  continually,  "  Hal- 
lelujah, let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  and  give 
glory  unto  him!"  Jesus  Christ  is  the  first-bom 
of  this  household;  God,  who  is  all  and  in  all, 
is  head  of  the  whole:  these  are  the  beings  to 
whom  we  are  about  to  be  united  by  death. 

What  a  powerful  consolation  against  the 
fear  of  death!  What  an  abundant  remunera- 
tion of  delight,  for  tlie  privation  of  persons, 
whose  memory  is  so  dear!  O  my  friends,  my 
children,  and  all  of  you,  who  have  during  my 
abode  on  earth,  been  the  objects  of  my  tender- 
est  and  most  ardent  attachment; — you,  who 
after  having  contributed  to  my  happiness  during 
life,  come  again  and  surround  my  dying  bed, 
receive  the  final  tests  of  an  attachment,  which 
should  never  be  less  suspected  than  in  tliese 
last  moments; — collect  the  tears,  which  the 
pain  of  parting  induces  me  to  shed; — see,  in 
the  anguish  of  my  last  farewell,  all  that  my 
heart  has  felt  for  you. 

But  do  not  detain  me  any  longer  upon  earth; 
sufter  me  at  the  moment  when  I  feel  my  loss, 
to  estimate  my  gain;  allow  me  to  fix  my  regards 
on  those  ever-during  connexions  I  am  about  to 
form; — on  the  angels  who  are  going  to  convey 
my  soul  to  the  bosom  of  God; — on  the  innu- 
merable multitudes  of  the  blessed,  among  whom 
I  am  going  to  reside,  and  with  whose  voices  I 
am  going  to  join  in  everlasting  praises  to  my 
God  and  Saviour. 

Among  the  transports  excited  by  objects  so 
elating,  if  any  wish  yet  remain,  it  is  to  see  you 
speedily  associated  with  me,  in  the  same  so- 
ciety, and  participating  the  same  felicity.  May 
heaven  hear  diy  prayer!  To  God  be  honour  aiM 
glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


320 


ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER.        [Ser.  LXXXVIIL 


SERMON  LXXXVIIL 


ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER. 


Matt.  xxvi.  69,  &c.  Luke  xxii.  61,  &c. 
Abu?  Peter  sat  xvitlwut  in  the  palace;  and  a  dam- 
sel caitu  unto  Idm,  saying,  Thou  also  icasl  with 
Jesus  of  Galilee.  But  he  denied  before  them 
all,  saying,  I  know  not  what  thousayest.  .'hid 
tvhen  he  was  gone  out  into  the  porch,  another 
maid  saw  him,  and  said  unto  them  that  were 
there,  This  fdlow  was  also  with  Jesus  of  .Aa- 
zarelh.  Jlnd  again  he  denied  with  an  oath,  1 
do  not  know  the  man.  Jlnd  after  a  ichilc  came 
u7Uo  him  them  thai  stood  by,  and  said  to  Peter, 
surely  thou  also  art  one  of  them,  fur  thy  speech 
helraijcth  thee.  Then  began  he  to  curse  and  to 
sioear,  sai/mg,  I  know  not  the  man.  And  im- 
mediately while  he  yet  spake,  the  cock  crew. 
Jlnd  tlie  Lord  turned,  and  looked  upon  Peter; 
and  Peter  remembered  the  icord  of  the  Lord, 
how  he  had  said  xmto  him.  Before  the  cockcrow, 
thou  shall  deny  me  thrice.  And  Peter  went 
out,  and  xoept  bitterly. 

It  is  laudable,  my  brethren,  to  form  noble 
designs,  to  be  immovable  at  the  presence  of 
danger,  and  to  cherish  dignity  of  sentiment 
and  tliought.  This  virtue  distinguishes  the 
heroes  of  our  age;  it  equally  distinguishes  the 
lieroes  of  religion  and  piety.  Tliey  defy  tlic 
whole  universe  to  shake  tlieir  faitii;  amid  the 
greatest  dangers,  tliey  adopt  this  language  of 
triumph:  "  What  sliall  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  Christ?  Sliall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or 
persecution,  or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril, 
or  the  sword?  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are 
more  than  conquerors,  through  him  that  hath 
loved  us,"  Horn.  viii.  34,  35. 

liut  how  laudable  soever  tliis  disposition 
may  be,  it  ought  to  be  restricted;  it  degene- 
rates into  prcsumi)tion  when  carried  to  ox- 
tremcs.  Many,  by  not  knowing  how  to  ])ro- 
portion  their  strength  to  tlieir  courage,  liave 
fallen  in  tiio  day  of  trial,  and  realized  the  very 
maxim,  "  They  that  love  tiie  danger,  shall  pe- 
rish by  the  danger."  This  is  exemplified  in  the 
person  of  St.  Peter.  His  heart,  glowing  with 
attaciiment  to  his  Master,  every  tiling  was 
promised  from  his  zeal.  Seeing  Jesus  on  the 
waters,  he  solicited  permission  to  walk  like 
the  Saviour;  but  feeling  liis  feet  sink  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  unstable  element,  he  dis- 
trusted either  the  power  or  tlie  fidelity  of  his 
Master;  and  unless  he  had  been  supported  by 
his  com|)assionalo  arms,  he  had  made  ship- 
wreck, to  ex|)ress  myself  with  St.  Paul,  both 
of  his  failli  and  iiis  lite  togetiier.  Seeing  Jesus 
led  away  to  the  high-priest's  house,  he  follow- 
ed without  hesitation,  and  resolved  to  follow 
even  to  the  cro.ss.  Here,  likewise,  on  seeing 
the  Jews  irritated,  tlie  soldiers  armed,  and  a 
thousand  terrific  apjiearances  of  death,  he  sav- 
ed his  lifo  by  a  liase  denial;  and,  unless  his 
wavering  faiih  hatl  been  restored  by  a  look 
from  his  Lord,  the  bonds  of  union  had  been 
totally  dis.solv(!d. 

Li  the  examination  of  this  history,  we  sliall 
SCO  first,  tlio  tow:i!»ii(;e  of  an  apostle,  who 
yielded,  for  the  moment,  to  the  force  of  temp- 


tation. We  shall  sec,  secondly,  Jesus  Christ 
vancjuishing  the  enemy  of  our  salvation,  and 
depriving  him  of  his  prey,  by  a  single  glance 
of  his  eyes.  We  shall  see,  lastly,  a  penitent  re- 
covering from  his  fall:  and  replying,  by  his 
tears,  to  the  cxj)ressive  looks  of  Jesus  Christ: — 
three  inexhaustible  sources  of  reflection. 

We  shall  consider,  first,  the  fall  of  St.  Pe- 
ter; and  it  will  appear  deplorable,  if  we  pay 
attention  to  the  object  w^hich  excited  his  fear, 
and  to  the  circumstances  with  which  it  was 
connected. 

The  object  which  excited  his  fear,  was  mar- 
tyrdom. Let  us  not  magnify  the  standard  of 
moral  ideas.  The  fear  of  martyrdom  is  inse- 
parable from  human  weakness.  The  most  des- 
perate diseases  afford  some  fluctuating  hopes 
of  recovery;  which  diminish  the  fears  of  death. 
It  is  an  awful  thing  for  a  man  to  see  the  period 
of  his  death  precisely  fixed,  and  within  the  dis- 
tance of  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment.  And  if 
it  is  awful  to  approach  a  death,  obvious  (so  to 
speak)  to  our  view,  how  much  more  awful, 
when  that  death  is  surrounded  with  tortures, 
with  racks,  with  pincers,  with  caldrons  of  boil- 
ing oil,  and  all  those  instruments  invented  by 
superstitious  zeal  and  ingenious  malice.  If, 
however,  tiiere  ever  were  occasions  to  deplore 
the  weakness  of  man,  it  is  on  account  of  the 
fears  excited  by  the  idea  of  martyrdom.  Fol- 
low us  then  while  we  illustrate  this  assertion. 
That  men  must  die,  is  one  of  the  most  cei> 
tain  and  evident  propositions  ever  advanced. 
Neither  vice  nor  virtue,  neitiier  religion  nor 
infidelity,  nor  any  consideration,  can  dispense 
with  this  common  lot  of  man.  Were  a  system 
introduced  teacliing  us  the  art  of  living  for 
ever  on  the  earth,  we  siiould  undoubtedly  be- 
come our  own  enemies,  by  immolating  the 
hope  of  future  felicity,  for  a  life  of  such  in- 
quietude as  tliat  wc  should  enjoy  on  the  earth. 
And  if  tiiere  had  been  such  a  life,  perhaps  we 
should  have  been  base  enough  to  give  it  the 
preference  of  our  religious  hope.  If  it  had 
failed  in  securing  the  apjirobation  of  the  mind, 
it  would,  at  least,  have  interested  the  concu- 
piscence of  the  heart.  ]5ut  whatever  is  our 
o[)inion,  die  wc  must;  tliis  is  an  indisputable 
fact,  wliicii  no  one  dares  to  disjiute. 

Prudence,  unable  to  avert  the  execution  of 
the  sentence,  should  be  employed  in  disarming 
its  terrors:  destitute  of  all  hope  of  escaping 
death,  we  ought  to  employ  all  our  prudence  in 
the  choice  of  that  kind  of  death,  whicii  is  most 
su]>i)ortable.  And  what  is  tiiere  in  the  severest 
suflerings  of  martyrs,  which  is  not  preferable  to 
tlie  death  wo  expect  from  nature?  If  I  consider 
dcatii  as  an  abdication  of  all  I  enjoy,  and  as  an 
impenetrable  veil,  wiiich  conceals  tiie  objects 
of  sense,  I  see  nothing  in  the  death  of  the  mar- 
tyr, that  is  not  common  to  every  otlier  kind  of 
deatii.  To  die  on  a  bed,  to  die  on  a  scaffold, 
is  equally  to  leave  tiie  world;  and  the  sole  dif- 
ference is,  that  tlie  martyr  (iuding  nothing  but 
troubles,  gibbets,  and  crosses,  in  this  life,  de- 
taclics  himself  witii  less  diiliculty  thiin  the 
other,  who  dies  surrouiuled  by  inviting  ol)jecLs. 
If  I  consider  dealii,  with  regard  to  the  |)ains 
which  precede  and  attend  its  ap]>roach,  I  con- 
fess it  requires  (-0111:1^0  more  than  human,  to 
1)0  unmoved  at  tiic  tcirilic  ai)paiatus  exposed 
to  the  eyes  of  a  martyr.     But,  if  we  except 


Ser.  LXXXVIII.]       ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER. 


321 


eome  peculiar  cases,  in  which  the  tyrants  have 
had  the  barbarity  to  prohms;  the  Hvcs  of  tiie 
BuflTerers,  in  order  to  extend  their  torments, 
there  are  few  sudden  deatlis,  vvliich  are  not  at- 
tended with  loss  pain  tluin  natural  death. 
There  are  few  death-beds,  wiiicli  do  not  exhi- 
bit scenes  more  tragic  than  tiie  scalFold.  Pain 
is  not  more  supportable,  because  it  has  syni|)- 
toins  less  striking;  nor  arc  afflictions  the  less 
severe,  because  they  are  interior. 

If  I  consider  death,  with  re<rard  to  the  just 
fear  of  fainting  in  tlie  conflicts,  in  wliich  I  am 
about  to  be  vanquished  by  the  king  of  terrors, 
there  are  superabundant  aids  reserved  for  those 
who  sacrifice  their  livesfor  religion.  The  great- 
est miracles  have  been  achieved  in  favour  of 
confessors  and  martyrs.  St.  Peter  received 
some  instances  of  the  kind;  but  I  will  venture 
to  affirm,  that  we  have  had  more  than  he.  It 
was  on  the  verge  of  martyrdom,  that  an  arigel 
opened  tiie  doors  of  his  prison.  It  was  on  the 
eve  of  martyrdom,  that  Paul  and  Silas  felt  the 
prison  shako,  and  saw  their  chains  broken 
asunder.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  martyrdom, 
that  Stephen  saw  the  heavens  open,  and  the 
Son  of  man  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
It  was  also  in  the  midst  of  martyrdom,  that 
Barlaain  sung  this  psalm,  "  J51essed  be  the 
Lord,  my  strength,  which  teaclieth  rny  hands 
to  war,  and  my  fingers  to  figlit." 

If  I  consider  death,  with  regard  to  the  aw- 
ful tribunal  before  which  it  cites  me  to  appear, 
and  with  regard  to  the  eternal  books  about  to 
be  opened,  in  which  are  registered  so  many 
vain  thoughts,  so  many  idle  words,  so  many 
criminal  courses,  the  weiglit  of  which  is  heavy 
on  my  conscience;  I  see  nothing  still  in  the 
death  of  a  martyr,  that  is  not  to  be  preferred 
to  a  natural  death.  It  is  allowed  that  the  ex- 
ercise of  repentance,  in  dying  circumstances, 
the  prayers,  the  repeated  vows,  tlie  submission 
to  the  will  of  God,  who  leads  us  througii  tiie 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  deatli,  are  tests  of  our 
reconciliation  to  him.  But  these  tests  are  of- 
ten deceitful.  E.\perience  but  too  frequently 
realizes  what  we  have  often  said,  that  tiie  dy- 
ing take  that  for  willing  obedience,  whicii  is 
but  constraint.  A  martyr  has  purer  tests  of  his 
sincerity.  A  martyr  might  preserve  his  life,  by 
the  commission  of  a  crime;  but  rather  than 
sin,  he  devotes  it  in  sacrifice. 

Lastly,  if  I  consider  death,  with  regard  to  the 
futurity  into  which  it  will  cause  us  to  enter,  I 
see  nothing  but  what  should  excite  in  ti)e  mar- 
tyr transports  of  joy.  He  lias  not  only  tiie  pro- 
mise of  celestial  happiness,  but  celestial  hap- 
piness of  the  highest  degree.  Jt  is  to  tlie  mar- 
tyr, that  Jesus  Christ  calls  from  the  highest 
abodes  of  heaven;  "  To  him  tliat  overcometh, 
will  I  grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my  tlirone,  even 
as  I  also  overcame,  and  am  set  down  with  my 
Father  in  his  throne,"  Rev.  iii.  Jl. 

IJut  the  fall  of  St.  Peter,  though  deplorable 
in  itself,  becomes  still  more  so,  by  its  concom- 
itant circumstances.     Let  us  review  them. 

It  was  first,  the  simple  charge  of  a  servant 
niaid,  and  of  a  few  spectators  standing  by, 
which  shook  his  courage.  Had  tlio  apostle 
been  cited  before  the  sanhedrim; — had  he  been 
legally  called  upon  to  give  an  account  of  his 
faith; — had  the  cross,  to  which  he  promised  to 
follow  his  Master,  been  prepared  before  his 
Vol.  II.— 41 


eyes; — you  would  have  said,  that  the  magni- 
tude of  the  danger  striking  his  senses,  had  con- 
founded his  reason.  i5ul  none  of  tliew  objects 
were,  in  reality,  presented.  The  judges,  sole- 
ly engaged  in  gratifying  their  fury  against  the 
iSlasler,  did  not  so  mucii  as  think  upon  the 
servant.  A  maid  spake,  and  her  voice  recalled 
the  idea  of  the  council,  the  death,  and  the  cross, 
and  filled  his  soul  with  liorror  at  the  thought. 
Secumlly,  St.  Peter  was  warned.  Jesus 
Christ  had  declared  to  Iiiin,  in  general,  that 
"  Satan  had  desired  to  sift  him  as  wheal;"  and, 
in  particular,  that  he  would  three  times  deny 
him  tliat  very  night.  A  caution  so  salutary, 
ouglit  to  have  induced  him  to  redouble  his  vi- 
gilance; to  fortify  the  place,  the  weakness  of 
wliicli  had  been  jiointcd  out;  and  to  avoid  a 
danger,  of  the  magnitude  of  which  he  had 
been  apprised.  When  a  man  is  surprised 
by  an  unforeseen  temptation;  when  he  falls 
from  a  precipice,  of  which  he  was  not  aware, 
he  is  worthy  of  more  compassion  than  blamo. 
Hut  here  is  a  crime,  known,  revealed,  and  pre- 
dicted. 

The  third  circumstance  is  derived  from  the 
abundant  knowledge  communicated  to  our 
ajiostle.  Against  the  offence  of  our  Saviour's 
humiliation,  he  had  been  peculiarly  fortified; 
he  had  heard  a  voice  from  the  excellent  glory 
on  the  holy  mountain;  he  had  been  j^pprised, 
more  than  any  other  disciple,  that  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christ  were  connected  with  the  scheme 
of  redemption. 

The  fourth  circumstance  is  derived  from  the 
high  office  with  which  St.  Peter  was  invested; 
from  the  commission  he  had  received  from 
his  Master,  in  common  with  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  apostolic  college,  "  to  go  and  preach 
the  kingdom  of  heaven;"  and  from  this  decla- 
ration, "  Tliou  art  Peter,  ujion  this  rock  will  I 
build  my  cliurch."  This  man,  called  to  build 
up  the  cluircii,  gave  it  one  of  the  greatest 
shocks  it  could  possibly  have  received.  This 
man,  called  to  preach  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  declared  he  knew  him  not.  This  man, 
constituted  an  established  minister  of  his  reli- 
gion, became  an  apostate,  and  risked  the  draw- 
ing with  him  into  the  same  gulf,  the  souls  with 
wliose  salvation  he  had  been  entrusted.  Some 
faults  atlect  none  but  the  offenders,  but  others 
have  a  general  influence  on  all  the  church. 
And  such,  ministers  of  the  living  God,  are  our 
faults!  Our  example  is  contagious,  it  diffuses  a 
baneful  poison  on  all  tho.'se,  over  whom  Provi- 
dence has  appointed  us  to  watch. 

The  oaths  he  used  to  confirm  his  denial  are 
a  fifth  circumstance.  Not  content  with  dis- 
simulation, he  denied.  Not  content  with  a 
threefold  denial,  he  denied  with  an  oath;  a  cir- 
cumstance not  in  the  text,  but  noted  by  the 
other  evangelists. 

My  brctliren,  do  you  understand  in  these 
provinces,  all  that  is  execrable  in  the  crime  of 
perjury!  I  doubt  it.  A  perjured  man  is  one 
who  takes  the  God  who  bears  the  motto  of 
"  Faithful  and  true  Witness,"  to  attest  an  as- 
sertion, of  the  falsehood  of  which  he  cannot  be 
ignorant.  A  perjured  person  is  one  who  defies 
the  power  of  Almighty  God:  who  says,  in  or- 
der to  deceive,  "Great  God!  thou  boldest 
thunderbolts  in  thy  hand,  launch  them  this 
moment  at  my  head,  if  I  do  not  speak  as  I 


322 


ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  fflS  MASTER.       [Ser.  LXXXVllI. 


think.  Great  God!  thou  dccidest  tlie  destiny 
of  my  immortal  soul,  j)lunge  it  into  hell,  if  the 
sentiments  of  my  heart  are  not  conformable  to 
the  words  of  my  tongue."  Hence,  when  St. 
Peter  disavowed  his  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ, 
it  was  saying  in  fact,  "  Yes,  Great  (iod!  if  I 
know  this  man,  of  having  connexion  witli 
whom  I  am  now  questioned,  to  be  my  Master; 
if  I  have  heard  celestial  voices,  saying,  "  This 
is  my  beloved  Son;"  if  I  have  .seen  him  trans- 
figured on  the  holy  mountain;  if  I  have  heard 
his  sermons;  if  I  have  attested  his  miracles;  if 
that  indeed  be  true,  may  I  be  tlie  object  of  thy 
everlasting  abiiorrence  and  revenge." 

The  siclh  circumstance  is  the  period  at  which 
St.  Peter  disowned  Jesus  Christ.  At  tiie  in- 
stant Jesus  Christ  displayed  the  tenderest 
marks  of  his  love,  St.  Peter  requited  him  with 
the  most  cruel  ingratitude.  At  the  moment 
Jesua  Christ  was  about  to  redeem  St.  Peter, 
this  apostle  disowned  his  Master.  At  the  mo- 
ment Jesus  Christ  was  about  to  lay  down  his 
life  for  St.  Peter,  at  tlie  moment  he  was  going 
to  endure  for  him  the  death  of  the  cross,  tliis 
apostle  refused  to  confess  him. 

Ah!  human  virtue!  how  feeble  thou  art, 
whenever  the  breath  of  the  Almighty,  by  which 
thou  art  sustained,  comes  to  be  resumed!  And 
if  the  Lots,  the  Moseses,  the  Davids,  tiie  Josi- 
ahs,  and  so  many  more; — if  these  pillars  of  the 
church  have  been  sliaken,  what  shall  not  these 
frail  foundations  be! — If  these  suns,  irradiated 
"  to  shine  in  tiie  midst  of  a  crooked  and  per- 
verse generation,"  have  sustained  eclipses, 
what  shall  it  not  be  with  the  smoking  lla.x!  If 
the  cedars  of  Lebanon  have  been  almost  rooted 
op,  what  shall  it  not  be  with  the  hyseop  of  the 
wall! 

But  let  us  no  longer  leave  our  apostle  in  the 
sad  situation  in  which  he  has  been  considered. 
Among  the  ditlîculties  opposed  to  the  perseve- 
rance of  the  saints,  the  sins  to  which  they  are 
liable  seems  to  be  the  strongest.  Whicli  side 
soever  we  embrace,  we  apparently  fall  into 
error.  "  Will  he  for  ever  precipitate  in  hell, 
the  man  for  whom  the  availing  sacrifice  of  the 
cross  has  already  been  presented?  Rut  also  will 
he  ever  receive  into  [)aradise,  a  man  contami- 
nated with  so  foul  a  crime?  Will  ho  resume 
his  grace  after  it  is  once  given?  But  will  he 
continue  it  with  him,  wiio  renders  himself  un- 
worthy?" Here  Providence  removes  the  ditR- 
culty  which  theology  cannot  solve.  It  extends 
to  the  fallen  a  gracious  hand.  That  St.  Peter 
the  friend  of  Jesus  Christ  should  be  e.xcluded 
from  his  grace,  seems  impossible.  That  St. 
Peter  should  ever  be  readmitted  to  his  favour 
seems  not  less  inconceivable.  Jesus  Christ 
came  to  his  aid,  and  enabled  him  to  recover 
from  his  crime.  Here  is  the  solution  of  tlie 
dilHculty.  Then,  adds  our  evangelist,  Jesus 
Christ  turned  toward  St.  Peter,  and  looked  at- 
tentively at  him.  This  is  the  second  part  of 
my  discourse. 

II.  My  brethren,  how  expressive  was  that 
look!  How  eloquent  were  those  eyes!  Never 
was  discourse  so  energetic!  Never  did  orator 
express  himself  with  so  much  force!  Jesus 
looked  on  Peter. — It  was  the  Man  of  griefs 
complaining  of  a  new  burden,  added  to  tiiat, 
under  the  pressure  of  whicli  he  already  groaned. 
It  was  the  compassionate  Redeemer,  pitying  a 


soul  about  to  destroy  itself — It  was  the  Apostle 
of  our  salvation,  preaching  in  l>onds. — It  was 
the  sulnluer  of  the  heart,  the  omnipotent  God, 
rejiressing  the  crtbrts  of  the  devil,  and  depriving 
him  of  his  prey. 

1.  It  was  the  man  of  griefs,  complaining  of 
a  new  burden,  added  to  that,  under  the  pres- 
sure of  which  he  already  groaned. — We  can- 
not doubt  but  the  denial  of  St.  Peter,  augment- 
ed the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ.  A  wound  is  the 
more  severely  felt,  in  proportion  as  the  inflict- 
ing hand  is  dear  to  us.  We  are  not  astonished 
to  see  an  enemy  turn  his  rage  against  us;  the 
case  is  common.  But  when  we  find  perfidy, 
where  we  expected  fidelity,  and  where  we  had 
cause  to  expect  it;  and  when  it  is  a  friend  who 
betrays  us,  the  anguish  of  the  thougiit  is  dilli- 
cult  to  sustain.  So  it  was  with  Jesus  Christ. 
That  the  Jewish  populace  were  armed  against 
him,  was  not  surprising;  they  knew  him  not. 
That  the  Pharisei;s  should  solicit  his  death  is 
less  astonishing;  he  had  exclaimed  against  their 
sins.  That  the  Roman  soldiers  should  join  the 
Jews,  is  not  surprising;  they  considered  him  as 
the  enemy  of  Cesar.  That  the  priests  should 
accelerate  his  condemnation,  is  no  marvel;  they 
thought  they  were  avenging  Moses  and  the 
prophets.  But  that  St.  Peter,  who  ought  to 
liave  supported  him  in  his  anguish,  should  ag- 
gravate it; — that  he,  who  ougiit  to  have  attest- 
ed his  innocence,  should  deny  him; — that  he, 
who  ought  to  have  extended  his  hand  to  wipe 
away  his  tears,  should,  in  some  sort,  lend  his 
arm  to  assassins; — it  was  tiiis  which  pierced  the 
Saviour's  soul,  .and  caused  this  reproachful 
glance  of  his  eyes  on  St.  Peter. 

2.  It  was  the  compassionate  Redeemer,  pity- 
ing a  soul  on  the  verge  of  destruction.  One 
trait  we  cannot  sufficiently  admire,  that  during 
our  Saviour's  piission;  that  amid  the  severest 
sutlerings,  he  was  less  concerned  for  himself, 
than  for  the  salvation  of  those  for  whom  he 
sutlered.  Some  days  before  his  death,  he  was 
employed  in  supporting  the  disciples  against 
tiic  scandal  of  the  cross.  In  the  admirable 
prayer,  addressed  to  tlio  Fatiier,  he  in  some 
sort,  forgot  himself,  and  prayed  solely  for  tiicm. 
In  tiie  garden  of  Gelhsemanc,  amid  the  most 
tremulous  conflicts,  which  he  sustained  against 
the  Father's  justice,  he  interrupted  the  suppli- 
cations for  divine  as.sistance,  to  go  and  exhort 
the  diMci|)lcs  to  watclifuliiess  and  prayer,  and 
to  arm  thcni  against  the  devil.  (Jn  the  cross, 
he  prayed  for  his  murderers;  and  would  have 
shed  his  blood  with  pleasure,  if  he  might  have 
rejoiced  over  those  who  shed  it,  and  obtained 
for  them  forgivci»ess  and  salvation. 

More  atlected  with  the  wound  received  by 
his  disciple,  than  with  what  concerned  himself, 
his  soul  dissolved  in  compassion:  he  seemed  to 
say,  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  1  devote  myself  in 
sacrifice  without  reluctance,  if  it  may  obtain 
thy  salvation.  1  submit  with  pleasure,  to  the 
justice  of  my  Father,  if  thy  restoration  may  be 
obtained.  But  wlien  I  see  thee,  at  the  moment 
of  my  death,  withdrawing  tiiyself  from  that 
mercy,  the  whole  of  whose  treasures  1  have 
opened;  when  I  see  tliee  '  accounting  the  blood 
of  the  covenant,'  I  am  going  to  shed,  'an  un- 
holy thing;'  when  I  nee  that  I  die,  and  die  in 
vain  with  regard  to  thee,  if  thou  shouldst  not 
recover  from  thy  fall,  iny  passion  becomes  the 


Ser.  LXXXVIII.]        ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER. 


323 


more  severe,  and  llie  anguish  of  my  death  is 
redoubled." 

This  leads  us  to  a  third  reflection.  The  look 
of  Jesus  Christ  dist:overed  an  upbraiding  as- 
pect, by  whicii  the  Saviour  would  reclaim  tlw 
sinner.  Hence,  on  casting  his  eyes  upon  him, 
he  selec-ted  the  circumstance  of  the  crowing  of 
the  cock.  The  crowing  of  the  cock,  was  as 
much  the  signal  to  realize  the  prediction  of 
Jesus  Christ,  us  to  remind  St.  Peter  of  his  pro- 
mise; and  Jesus  looked  in  that  moment,  that 
I'cter  might  recollect  his  vows,  his  oaths,  his 
protestations;  he  looked  to  claim  his  promise, 
or  at  least  to  confound  htm  tor  his  defect  of 
fidelity. 

Hut,  however  just  these  explanations  may 
appear,  they  do  not  fully  unfold  the  sense  of 
the  text.  There  is  something  miraculous  in 
the  history:  an<l  the  interpretations  alrca<ly 
given,  offer  nothing  to  the  mind,  but  what 
might  occur  in  a  natural  way.  This  look  of 
.Jesus  Christ  was,  like  the  words  of  his  rnoutli, 
"sharper  than  a  two-edged  sword,  piercing 
even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit, 
and  of  the  joints  and  marrow,"  Ileb.  iv.  1-. 
When  the  disciples  were  going  to  Kmniaus, 
they  found  an  unction  in  tlie  di.scourse  of  Jesus 
Christ,  wliii;h  induced  them  to  say,  "  Did  not 
our  hearts  burn  within  us,  while  he  talked  with 
us  by  the  way,  and  while  he  opened  to  us  the 
Scriptures'"  Luke  x.\iv.  32.  As  if  they  had 
said.  It  is  not  necessary  that  our  eyes  should 
identify  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  assur- 
ed lie  hasap])eared  to  us;  it  is  not  necessary  that 
we  should  as.sociatc  the  testimony  of  the  wo- 
men, with  the  predictions  of  the  prophets;  it  is 
not  necessary  to  investigate  the  removal  of  tiie 
stont!,  the  emptiness  of  the  sepulchre,  and  the 
folding  of  the  linen,  to  ascertain  his  resurrec- 
tion. We  have  arguments  superior  to  these: 
the  ascendancy  he  obtained  over  our  minds,  by 
t!ie  power  of  his  word,  and  the  fire  which  kin- 
dled our  hearts,  are  proof  sufficient,  that  we 
have  conversed  with  Jesus.  Such  indeed  was 
tliis  look.  It  was  a  flash  of  fire,  which  irradi- 
ated the  eyes  of  the  apostle,  which  forcii)ly  re- 
vealed the  knowledge  of  himself,  which  con- 
strained him  to  give  glory  to  God;  which  dissi- 
pated all  his  terrors;  which  raised  his  drooping 
courage;  ^■iiich  calmed  all  his  fears;  which  con- 
firmed his  feeble  knees;  which  reanimated  his 
expiring  zeal. 

Hence  you  perceive  the  eloquence  of  the 
speaker,  the  intelligence  of  the  hearer,  the  en- 
ergy of  the  Saviour's  looks,  and  the  sensibility 
of  St.  Peter's  heart.  By  this  single  glance  of 
tiie  Saviour's  eyes,  inexpressible  anguish  was 
excited  in  his  soul;  his  recollection  was  restor- 
ed, he  came  to  himself,  his  heart  expired,  his 
countenance  was  appalled,  a  vapour  arose  in 
his  eyes,  which  descended  in  a  torrent  of  tears. 
Jesus  Christ  spake  by  his  looks,  St.  Peter  re- 
plied by  contrition.  This  is  tlie  third  part  of 
my  discourse. 

III.  My  brethren,  the  recollection  of  sin 
causes  grief  of  ditfeirent  kinds:  three  sorts  of 
tears  it  particularly  causes  to  be  shed.  Tears 
of  despair,  tears  of  torment,  and  tears  of  re- 
pentance. Tears  of  despair  are  slied  on  earth, 
tears  of  torment  In  hell,  and  tears. of  repentance 
in  the  church. 
Tho  anguish  ol  despair  is  felt  in  this  life. 


Such,  on  some  occasions,  in  tlie  imbecility  of 
the  human  mind,  as  neither  to  resist  a  tempta- 
tion to  sin,  nor  to  endure  the  recollection  of  a 
Ibrnicr  crime;  and  the  same  base  principle 
which  induces  a  man  to  sin,  frequently  e.xcitea 
despair,  on  the  r«coileciiun  of  its  turpitude. 
Judas  wept  with  d<!S|iair;  he  could  not  supjtoit 
the  recollection  of  his  crime;  he  saw,  he  i'tAL, 
he  confes-si^d  ilx  atrocity;  and  having  returned 
to  the  priests  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  the 
awful  reward  of  his  treason,  he  went  out,  and 
hanged  himself. 

The  damned,  on  seeing  the  period  of  their 
rejMjntance  past,  and  the  hour  of  vengeance 
come,  «lied  tears  of  despair  in  hell.  This  m 
the  "outer  darkness,  in  which  there  is  weep- 
ing and  gnashing  of  teeth." 

iiut  the  faithi'ul  while  spared  in  tho  church, 
shed  tears  of  rej>entauce:  of  this  sort  were 
those  of  St.  I'clx'r. 

You  nvdy Jtrat  observe  his  anguish.  He  not 
only  wej)!,  but  he  wi'|>t  bitterly.  Forming  im- 
perfect notions  of  vice,  as  wo  mostly  do,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  we  should  think  a  repent- 
ance, superficial  as  ours,  adequate  to  its  expia- 
tion. Jiut  regarding  it  in  a  ju.st  light,  consi- 
dering the  majesty  of  Him  it  insults,  the  awful 
cloud  it  interposes  between  God  and  us,  tlie 
alarming  influence  it  has  in  the  soul  of  our 
neighbour,  and  the  painful  uncertainty  in  which 
it  places  the  -onscience;  we  cannot  shed  tears 
too  bitter  for  the  calamity  of  wilful  transgres- 
sion. 

You  may,  secondly,  remark  the  promptitude 
of  the  apostle's  tears.  "  Then,"  says  the  evan- 
gelist, that  is,  "as  soon  as  Jesus  Christ  had 
looked  on  him."  The  most  laudable  resolu- 
tions arc  doubtful,  when  they  look  solely  at 
the  future,  and  neglect  to  promote  a  present 
reform.  In  general,  they  are  less  the  effects 
of  piety,  cherishing  a  desire  to  abandon  vice, 
than  the  laxity  of  the  flesh;  which,  by  hope 
of  repentance  after  indulgence,  would  prevent 
remorse  from  interrupting  the  pleasures  we 
expect  from  a  vicious  cx)urse.  I  fear  every 
thing  for  a  man,  who,  when  exhorted  to  re- 
pent, replies,  to-inotrow,  at  a  future  period.  I 
fear  every  thing  for  such  a  man;  I  fear  the 
winds;  I  fear  t!io  waves;  I  fear  affliction-,  I  fear 
the  fever;  I  fear  distraction;  I  fear  the  habit;  I 
fear  exhausting  the  treasures  of  patience  and 
lor.g-suH'ering.  St.  Peter  deferred  not  to  i. 
precarious  futurity,  the  care  of  his  salvatioa. 
As  soon  as  Jesus  Christ  had  looked  on  hiro, 
he  perceived  it;  as  soon  as  he  called,  he  an- 
swered; as  soon  as  the  hand  was  extended,  be 
arose. 

Observe,  thirdly,  the  precaution  attendant 
on  his  tears;  "  he  went  out."  Not  that  ho  was 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  his  Master,  in  the 
place  where  he  had  denied  him,  but  distrust- 
ing himself;  presumption  having  cost  bim  too 
much,  he  made  a  wise  use  of  his  past  temerity. 
My  brethren,  would  you  know  the  true 
source  of  barrenness  in  your  devotion;  would 
you  find  the  cause  of  so  many  obliterated  vows, 
so  many  sacred  purposes  vanished  away,  so 
many  projects  dispersed  as  smoke,  so  many 
oaths  violated,  you  will  find  them  in  the  de- 
fecte  of  precaution.  The  sincere  Christian 
fortifies  that  place  in  his  heart,  whose  weak- 
ness Bad  experieoce  has  discovered;  be  proâLi 


324 


ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER.        [Ser.  LXXXVIII. 


by  his  loss,  and  derives  advantage  from  his  re- 
lapse. He  says,  that  object  was  fatal  to  my 
innocence;  I  must  no  more  look  u[)on  it;  that 
company  drew  me  into  tliissin;  I  must  instant- 
ly wiiiidraw;  it  was  in  the  court  of  C'aiaphas  I 
disowned  my  Saviour,  I  must  slum  that  place. 
In  fine,  adequately  to  comprehend  the  na- 
ture of  St.  Peter's  repentance,  we  must  dis- 
cover all  the  cH'ects  a  sigiit  of  his  sin  produced 
in  his  soul.  Here  I  would  have  my  hearers 
suspend  the  eflects  of  fatigue;  they  are  incapa- 
ble of  attention,  too  fur  prolonged,  though  we 
discuss  the  most  interesting  truths  of  religion. 
I  would,  authorized  by  custom,  add  another 
text  to  that  1  have  read.  It  occurs  in  the 
Gospel  according  to  St.  John.  Jesus  said  to 
Peter,  "  Simon,  .son  of  Jonas,  lovest  tiiou  me 
more  tiian  these'  He  saith  unto  him,  Yea, 
Lord,  thou  knowest  I  love  thee:  He  saith  un- 
to him,  feed  my  lambs."  What  has  been  said 
,»f  lawful  love, — that  those  whose  hearts  are 
united,  never  dificr  with  the  object  of  tiieir 
affection,  but  it  tends  to  augment  the  flame, — 
may  be  said  of  divine  love.  This  is  obvious 
from  the  text  we  have  cited;  Jesus  Christ  and 
St.  Peter  alternately  retaliated,  for  the  eclipses 
their  love  had  sustained. 

It  is  true,  the  apostle  replied  only  to  part  of 
the  question  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  was  asked, 
"  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  more 
than  these.'"  On  all  other  occasions,  he  would 
frankly  have  replied,  "  Yea,  Lord,  tliou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee  more  tlian  these." 
Ah,  Lord!  1  well  know  tlie  allusion  of  thy 
words;  I  fully  perceive  tiiat  thou  wouldst  iium- 
ble  me,  by  tlic  recollection  of  the  promise  I 
have  made,  and  wiiicli  I  have  basely  violated; 
"Though  all  men  should  be  otl'ended  with 
thee,  yet  will  I  never  ije  offended."  I  am  fully 
impressed  with  the  mortifying  history  tiiou 
wouldst  retrace.  I  am  tiie  least  of  all  my 
brethren:  there  is  not  one  to  whom  I  can  dare 
to  give  myself  the  preference. 

If  St.  Peter  replied  with  humility,  he  replied 
also   with  sincerity  and   zeal.     If  we  wish  a 
believer  to  be   humble,  we  never  wish  him  to 
be  vain.     If  we  do  not  require  him  to  say,  "  I 
am  conscious  of  being  so  established  in  grace, 
as  never  to  be  shaken;"  wo  wish  at  least,  that 
he  should  feel  the  cheering  and  reviving  flame 
of  divine  love,  when  its  embers  are  most  con- 
cealed  in   the   aslics.     We   wish  him  not  to 
make  an  ostentatious  display  of  piety,  but  to 
evidence   the   tender   attachment   he   has  for 
God,  even   when,  through  weakness,  he  has 
happened  to  ofiend  him.     This  was  the  dis- 
position of  St.  Peter,  and  his  humility  implied 
no   defect  of  love.     "  Simon,    son  of  Jonas, 
lovest  thou   me?"     "  Lord!  I  can  presume  no- 
thing of  myself,  the   past  makes  me  tremble 
for  liie  future;    the  example  of  distinguished 
saints,  and  mine  still  more,  humbles  and  abo-ses 
my  soul.     Periiaps,  like  Job,  I  sliiill  curse  the 
day  of  my  birth;  periiaps,  like  David,  I  shall 
become  guilty  of  murder  and  treason;  |)erhaps, 
I  shall  deny  thee  again;  periiaps,  1  shall  be  so 
vile,  as  to   rejjcat  these  awful  words,  which 
will,  to  me,  he  a  subject  of  everlasting  regret, 
"  I  know  not  the  man,  I  am  not  one  of  his 
disciples;"  and  if  thou  wilt  condemn  me,  thou 
hast  only  to  crush  a  worm,  on  whom  no  dé- 
pendance can  be  placed.  After  all,  Lord!  amid 


so  many  defects,  so  many  offences,  I  feel  that 
I  love  thee  still;  I  feel  that  strong  temptations 
can  never  eradicate  a  love,  which  is  graven  on 
my  heart;  I  feel,  when  thy  perfections  are  dis- 
cussed, that  they  affect,  penetrate,  and  fill  my 
soul;  I  feel  delighted  that  my  Redeemer  is  in- 
vested with  such  abundant  glory  and  strength; 
when  thy  gospel  is  preached,  I  feel  my  heart 
burn  within  me;  and  I  admire  and  adore  the 
God,  who  has  revealed  a  scheme  of  salvation 
so  grand,  so  noble,  so  sublime.  I  feel,  not- 
withstanding this  awful  deviation,  inconceiva- 
ble sorrow,  and  inconceivable  shame,  which, 
to  me,  is  an  evident  test,  that  the  God  1  of- 
fend, is  in  reality,  the  God  I  love." 

Can  it  be  imagined,  that  St.  Peter's  avowal 
of  his  weakness,  rendered  his  love  less  estima- 
ble to  his  Master?  Can  it  be  conceived,  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  less  delicate  in  his  attachment 
than  man?  Knowing  the  fidelity  of  a  friend, 
having  a  thousand  satisfactory  tiests  of  his  at- 
tachment, do  you  cease  to  love  him,  when  he 
has  committed  a  fault,  for  which  he  is  wound- 
ed the  first'  "  The  Lord  knoweth  whereof 
we  are  made."  Our  faults,  howsoever  glaring 
(if  followed  by  repentance,)  though  they  may 
susi)end,  for  a  period,  the  influence  of  his  love, 
can  neither  change  its  nature,  nor  restrict  its 
duration.  St.  Peter  had  no  sooner  said  to  his 
Master,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee," 
than  he  was  re-established  in  his  ministry  by 
his  prompt  reply,  "  Feed  my  sheep." 

O  how  worthily  did  this  apostle  repair  the 
offence  he  had  given  the  church,  by  his  devo- 
tion to  its  interests.  Methinks  I  see  him  gather- 
ing, on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  the  souls  which, 
perhaps,  he  had  caused  to  stray!  Methinks  I 
seem  to  hear  those  pathetic  addresses  proceed 
from  his  mouth,  which,  like  streams  of  light- 
ning, enkindle  every  thing  in  their  course;  sof- 
tening those  very  souls,  which  the  cross  of 
Christ  was  unable  to  move;  e.xtorting  from 
them  this  language,  highly  expressive  of  com- 
punction, "  Men  and  brethren,  what  shall  we 
do?"  Methinks  I  see  him  flying  from  Pontus 
to  Galatia,  from  Galatia  to  Bithynia,  from 
liithynia  to  Cappadocia,  from  Cappadocia  to 
every  province  of  Asia,  from  Asia  to  Rome, 
leaving  all  his  course  strewed  with  the  wreck 
of  Satan's  power;  with  trophies  of  temples 
demolished,  of  idols  dethroned,  of  pagans  con- 
verted, correspondent  consequences  of  a  minis- 
try, which,  at  its  first  commencement,  had  con- 
verted eight  thousand  men.  Methinks  I  see 
him  led  from  tribunal  to  tribunal,  sometimes 
before  the  Jews,  and  sometimes  before  the  Ro- 
mans, every  where  loaded  with  the  reproach 
of  Christ,  every  where  confessing  his  name; 
finally  fixed  on  a  cross,  and  saying,  as  he  died 
for  the  Redeemer,  who  had  died  for  him, 
"  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things,  thou  knowest 
that  I  love  thee." 

Such  was  the  repentance  of  St.  Peter,  and 
such  may  ours  now  be!  May  those  eyes  which 
still  seek  us,  as  they  sought  him,  pierce  our 
heart,  as  they  pierced  his;  striking  the  con- 
science with  sanctifying  terror,  and  causing 
those  tears  of  repentance  to  flow,  which  are  so 
availing  for  the  sinner. 

They  ought  to  produce  those  particular  ef- 
fects on  you,  my  brethren,  whose  sin  has  had 
a  sad  conformity  to  St.  Peter's;  who  having 


Ser.  LXXXVIIL]        ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER. 


Been  (while  in  France)  Jesus  Christ  delivered 
again  into  the  hands  of  thieves,  and  hearing 
the  interrogation,  "  You,  also,  are  not  you  his 
disciples?"  have  answered  as  our  apostle,  "  I 
know  not  the  man,  I  am  not  one  of  his  disci- 
ples." O!  seek  the  eyes  of  Jesus  Christ:  see 
the  looks  he  gives,  hear  what  llicy  say:  Cow- 
ardly souls,  are  these  the  fine  promises  you 
made  in  time  of  peace!'  Is  this  the  examj)le 
you  have  set  before  the  churcii?  Was  it  not 
enough  ...  ?  Hut  why  do  1  open  wounds, 
which  the  mercy  of  God  has  closed?  Why  do 
I  recall  the  recollection  of  a  crime,  which  so 
many  tears,  so  many  torrents  of  blood,  so 
many  sacrifices,  have  effaced?  It  is,  indeed, 
less  with  a  view  that  I  name  it  now,  to  re- 
proach the  fault,  than  to  remind  you  of  the 
vows  you  made,  wlien,  all  bathed  in  tears,  you 
implored  forgiveness;  less  to  overwhelm  you 
with  a  sight  of  your  sin,  than  to  comfort  you 
with  that  divine  mercy,  which  has  done  it  all 
away. 

Who  can  ascertain  the  extent  of  mercy? 
Who  can  find  language  sudiciently  strong,  and 
figures  sufficiently  pure,  noble,  and  sublime,  for 
its  adequate  illustration?  To  what  sinner  did 
it  ever  prohibit  access?  What  wounded  and 
contrite  conscience  was  ever  repulsed  at  its 
bar?  This  immensity  of  mercy  has  forgiven 
Nebuchadnezzar  and  Manasseh,  the  one  a 
monster  in  nature,  the  other  a  monster  in  re- 
ligion. It  has  forgiven  St.  Paul  for  persecu- 
tion, and  St.  Peter  for  apostacy.  it  has  for- 
given you,  wlio  have  imitated  this  weak  disci- 
ple; it  has  readmitted  you  into  the  fellowship 
of  the  church,  who  had  so  basely  abandoned 
it.  Happy  those  apostate  protestants,  if  Jesus 
Christ  should  deign  to  cast  his  eyes  upon  them, 
as  he  has  on  you.  Happy  if,  on  quitting  the 
court  of  Caiaphas,  in  which  they  have,  like 
our  apostle,  denied  their  Master,  they  should 
weep  like  you 


325 


fice  to  your  net.  Ascribe  not  to  your  courage 
a  felicity  which,  perhaps,  is  solely  due  to  the 
favourable  circumstances  in  which  you  may 
have  been  providentially  placed.  Remember 
St.  Peter.  He  reposed  the  utmost  confidence 
in  his  zeal;  and,  the  first  trial  he  made  of  his 
strength,  he  was  convinced  of  his  weakness. 
Had  God  smitten  the  shepherd  in  the  midst  of 
you,  perhaps  the  sheep  would  have  been  scat- 
tered. Had  you,  as  so  many  others,  seen  gal- 
leys equipped,  dungeons  opened,  gibbets  erect- 
ed, fagots  kindled,  executioners  armed,  racks 
prepared,  perhaps  you  would  likewise  have  de- 
nied the  Saviour. 

Do  I  impose  on  my  hearers?  Do  you  judge 
by  what  we  do  in  the  time  of  peace,  of  what  wo 
should  do  in  the  time  of  tribulation?  Let  each 
lierc  sound  tlie  depth  of  his  own  heart,  and  let 
him  support,  if  possible,  the  dignity  of  Jesus 
Christ.  How  frequently,  amid  a  slanderous 
multitude,  who  have  said  to  us,  "  Are  not  you 
his  disciples?  Are  not  you  attached  to  those, 
who  make  it  a  point  of  conscience  not  to  men- 
tion the  faults  of  your  neighbours?"  How  often 
have  we  replied,  by  a  guilty  silence,  "  I  know 
him  not,  I  am  not  one  of  his  disciples."  How 
often  in  licentious  company,  when  asked,  "Are 
not  you  of  that  class?  Are  not  you  one  of  those, 
who  restrict  their  appetites,  moderate  their  pas- 
sions, and  nortify  the  flesh?"  How  often  have 
we  answered,  "  1  know  him  not,  I  am  not  one 
of  his  disciples."  How  often  when  led  away 
with  the  enemies  of  righteousness,  who  have 
said,  "  Are  not  you  one  of  that  company?  Are 
not  you  one  of  those  who  pique  themselves  on 
primitive  virtue?"  How  often  have  we  an- 
swered by  a  cowardly  conduct,  "  I  know  him 
not,  I  am  not  one  of  his  disciples." 

In  defiance  of  all  the  composure  and  apathy 
with  which  we  daily  commit  this  sort  of  sins, 
conscience  sometimes  awakes  and  enforces  re- 
formation.    One  of  those  happy  occasions  is 


O  God!  if  we  are  permitted  to  address  thee,    just  at  hand.     A  crowded  audience  is  expected 


though  but  "  dust  and  ashes,"  is  it  for  the  con- 
firmation, or  the  confusion  of  our  faith,  that,  on 
thissubject,  thouseemest  inexorable;  and  a  sub- 
ject on  which  we  will  never  cease  to  pray.  On 
this  head,  has  the  mighty  God  "forgotten  to 
have  compassion?"  No!  I  cannot  persuade  my- 
self that  God  has  for  ever  abandoned  so  large 
a  portion  of  his  church.  No!  I  cannot  persuade 
myself  that  God  has  ceased  to  watch  over  the 
consciences  of  those  our  unhappy  brethren, 
whom  Satan  has  so  long  detained  in  security 
and  slumber.     No!  I  camiot  persuade  myself. 


here  on  Wednesday  next.  A  trumpet  is  blown 
in  Zion;  a  solemn  assembly  is  convoked;  a  fast 
is  proclaimed.  But  shall  I  tell  you,  my  bre- 
threa'  After  excepting  the  small  number  who 
will  then  atHict  tlieir  righteous  soul,  and  no 
doubt,  redouble  their  devotion;  after  excepting 
the  small  number,  and  after  examining  the  na- 
ture of  our  solemn  humiliations,  that  1  am  less 
afraid  of  your  sins,  than  of  your  fasts  for  na- 
tional reform? 

Before  the  great  God; — before  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel,  whose  love  of  holiness  is  infinite  as 


that  God  should  permit  so  many  children  to    himself,  we  shall  appear  on  Wednesday  next, 


perish  for  the  sinsof  tiieir  fathers;  and  to  be  for 
ever  separated  from  the  church,  to  which  they 
materially  belong.  Let  our  part  be  done,  and 
God's  sliall  surely  be  accomplished.  Let  us  be 
afflicted  for  the  affliction  of  Joseph.  Let  us 
pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem.  Let  the  ca- 
lamities of  the  church  be  ever  on  our  mind. 
They  are  ever  before  the  eyes  of  God;  they  ex- 
cite him  to  jealousy;  they  cause  him  to  emerge 
from  that  cloud,  in  which  he  has  so  long  been 
concealed  for  the  e.vclusion  of  our  prayers. 

APPLICATION. 
I  address  myself  to  you,  my  brethren,  whose 
characters  have  never  been  defiled  witli  so  foul 
a.  blot:  offer  not  incense  to  your  drag,  nor  sacri- 


with  minds  still  immersed  in  the  cares,  and  agi- 
tated with  the  pleasures  of  the  preceding  day; 
we  shall  appear  with  dissipation,  with  a  heart 
neither  touched,  nor  broken,  nor  contrite:  we 
shall  each  appear,  and  say,  "  I  have  sinned;" 
or  in  other  words,  "  I  have  made  my  house  a 
scene  of  voluptuousness,  a  seat  of  slander,  a 
haunt  of  infamy:  I  have  trampled  my  brethren 
under  my  feet,  and  this  opulence,  with  which 
God  has  invested  me  to  support,  I  have  em- 
ployed to  oppress  the  wretched:  I  have  amassed 
exorbitant  gains  on  the  right  hand,  and  the  left; 
I  have  sacrificed  friend,  pupil,  widow,  orphan; 
I  have  sacrificed  every  thing  to  my  private  in- 
terest, tlie  only  god  I  worship  and  adore."  On 
this  great  God,  who  discovers  the  most  latent 


326 


ST.  PETER'S  DENIAL  OF  HIS  MASTER.       [Skr.  LXXXVIII. 


folding  of  the  heart,  whose  "sword  divides 
asunder  the  soul  and  spirit,  tlie  joints  and  mar- 
row;" in  whose  presence  "all  things,"  the  mind 
and  heart,  tlie  secret  thougtits,  tlie  concealed 
crimes,  the  dark  designs,  "  all  things  are  naked 
and  manifest;" — on  this  great  God  we  presume 
to  impose  hy  the  exterior,  hy  the  tinsel  of  de- 
votion, by  covering  ourselves  with  sackcloth 


Sliiloh,  and  this  sacred  temple  in  which  he 
deigns  to  dwell  with  men. 

My  brelliren,  are  we  yet  spared  to  sound  the 
alarm,  to  thunder?  And  shall  we  not  adopt  a 
new  mode  of  celebrating  this  fast,  and  endea- 
vour to  execute  it' 

And  you,  our  senators  and  governors!  who 
have  appointed  this  solemnity,  let  us  apprize  you 


and  ashes,  by  bowing  the  neck  to  the  yoke,  and  J  also  of  its  appropriate  duties.     Come  on  Wed' 
alHicling  the  soul  for  a  single  day;  even,  if  we  j  ncsday  next:   like  modern  Jehoshaphats,  pros- 


should  put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes;  if  we  should 
bow  the  neck  to  the  yoke,  and  afllict  the  soul 
for  a  single  day.  But  this  very  exterior,  of 
which  God  says,  "  Is  this  the  fast  I  have  chosen? 
Callest  thou  this  a  fast,  a  day  agreeable  to  the 
Lord?"  Isaiah  Iviii.  5.  This  mere  exterior  is  not 
even  found  among  us:  we  have  only  to  open  our 
eyes  to  admit  the  propriety  of  the  charge. 

Uefore  this  great  God,  whose  power  is  infi- 
nite, and  who  seems  to  have  displayed  it  of  late 
years,  solely  to  punish  the  crimes  of  men,  and 
to  strike  all  Europe  witli  terror  and  death,  with 
horror  and  despair; — before  this  God  we  shall 
presume  to  ask,  not  to  be  involved  in  the  gene- 
ral destruction:  we  shall  presume  to  ofler  up 
this  prayer,  while  each  is  resolved  to  insult  him, 
to  devour  one  another,  to  adhere  to  our  crimi- 
nal connexions,  to  persevere  in  our  unlawful 
gains.  Am  I  then  extravagant  in  saying,  that, 
when  I  reflect  on  the  nature  of  our  solemn  hu- 
miliations, I  am  less  afraid  of  our  sins,  than  of 
fasts  we  celebrate  for  national  reform? 

Not  that  this  sort  of  fasts  are  always  una- 
vailing; the  mercy  of  God  sometimes  gives  them 
effect,  and  endeavours  in  some  sort  to  overlook 


trate,  at  the  footstool  of  God's  throne,  the  dig- 
nities with  which  you  are  invested;  and  for 
which  you  must  give  so  solemn  an  account. 
Come,  and  let  all  your  glory  consist  in  humi- 
liation and  repentance.  Come,  and  surrender 
into  his  Omnipotent  hands,  the  reins  of  this  re- 
public, and  swear  that  you  will  henceforth  go- 
vern it  by  no  maxims  but  his  laws.  And  may 
God  grant,  may  God  indeed  grant  you,  to  set 
so  laudable  an  example  before  his  church;  and, 
having  inspired  you  with  the  noblp  resolution, 
may  he  crown  it  with  effect! 

Ministers  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom  Providence 
calls  on  Wednesday  next  to  administer  the 
word,  your  task  is  obviously  great.  With  what 
a  charge  are  you  intrusted!  On  you  principally 
devolves  the  duty  of  alarming  and  abasing  the 
wicked.  On  you  principally  devolves  the  duty 
of  stopping  the  torrent  of  iniquity,  which  is  fol- 
lowed by  these  awful  calamities.  On  you  prin- 
cipally devolves  the  duty  of  quenching  the 
flames  of  celestial  vengeance,  enkindled  against 
our  sins.  "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things?" 
But  use  your  efforts,  and  expect  the  rest  from 
the  blessing  of  God.    Speak  as  ministers  ought 


our  hypocrisy.  "  When  he  slew  them,  then  |  to  speak  on  like  occasions.  "  Cry  aloud,  lift 
they  sought  him,  and  remembered  that  God  i  up  your  voice  like  a  trumpet,  show  Jacob  his 
was  their  rock.     Nevertheless,  they  did  flatter  |  transgressions,  and  Israel  his  sins."    If  you  tes 


with  their  mouth,  and  they  lied  unto  him  with 
their  tongues,  for  their  heart  was  not  right  with 
him.  But  he  being  full  of  compassion,  forgave 
their  iniquity,  and  many  a  time  turned  away 
his  anger,"  Ps.  Ixxviii.  34 — 38.  God  has  not 
only  acted  on  these  principles  with  regard  to 
iiis  ancient  people,  but  even  with  regard  to  us. 
On  the  approach  of  death,  when  we  have  sought 
the  Ijord  by  solemn  pjayer,  "  When  we  have 
remembered  our  rock,  when  we  have  flattered 
with  our  mouth,  and  lied  with  our  tongues," 
promising  reformation,  he  has  had  compassion 
upon  us,  and  has  retarded  our  destruction.  On 
that  account  we  still  live.  On  that  account 
these  hearers  are  still  present  in  this  temple,  and 
the  wicked  among  them  have  been  precipitated 
into  the  gulf  of  Gehenna.  But  how  long,  think 
you,  can  this  sort  of  fasts  produce  the  effects  for 
which  they  have  hitherto  availed?  Weigh 
the  words  which  follow  the  above  quotation. 
"When  God  heard  this,  he  was  wroth,  and 
greatly  abhorred  Israel:  so  that  ho  forsook  the 
tabernacle  in  Sliiloh,  the  tent  ho  had  planted 
among  men.  And  he  delivered  his  strength 
into  captivity,  and  his  glory  into  the  enemy's 
hand,"  verse  59 — 62. 

Ilnlland!  Ilnlland!  here  is  the  sentence  of  thy 
destiny.  God,  after  regarding  our  humiliations 
for  a  certiiin  liint,',  after  "  remembering  that  we 
are  but  flesh,"  after  enduring  the  prayers  of  de- 
ceitful tongues,  and  the  promises  of  feigned  lips, 
ho  will  finally  hear  the  cry  of  our  sins,  he  will 
abhor  Israel,  lie  will  abandon  his  pavilion  in 


tify  the  truth,  what  matter  if  they  murmur 
against  your  discourses.  And  may  God,  on 
this  solemn  occasion,  "teach  your  hands  to 
war,  and  your  fingers  to  fight."  May  God  in- 
spire you  with  magnanimity  of  mind  corres- 
pondent to  tlie  mission  with  which  you  are  in- 
vested. 

And  you.  Christian  people,  what  will  you  do 
on  Wednesday  next'  It  is  not  only  your  pre- 
sence in  this  temple, — it  is  not  only  hymns  and 
prayers,  supplications,  and  tears,  which  we  so- 
licit,— a  fast  should  be  signalized  by  more  dis- 
tinguished marks  of  conversion  and  repentance: 
these  are  restitution,  these  are  mutual  recon- 
ciliation, these  are  a  profusion  of  charities,  these 
are  a  diligent  search  for  the  indigent,  who  are 
expiring  as  much  through  shame  as  want. 
Hero,  here,  my  dear  brethren,  is  what  we  re- 
quire. And  let  me  obtain  this  request!  Let  mo 
even  expire  in  this  pulpit,  in  endeavouring  to 
add  some  degree  of  energy  to  your  devotion, 
and  effect  to  your  fast!  Our  prayers  shall  sup- 
ply our  weakness.  O  Almighty  God!  O  God! 
who  niakest  "judgment  thy  strange  work,"  let 
our  prayers  appease  tliy  indignation!  Resist 
not  a  concourse  of  people,  assembled  to  besiege 
the  throne  of  thy  grace,  and  to  move  thy  bowels 
of  paternal  compassion!  When  our  nobles,  our 
pastors,  our  heads  of  houses,  our  children,  when 
all  our  people,  when  all  shall  bo  assembled  on 
Wednesday  next  in  this  hou.se,  with  eyes  bathed 
in  tears,  with  hearts  rent,  for  having  offended 
so  good  and  gracious  a  God, — when  each  shoU 


Ser.  LXXXIX] 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF,  &c. 


327 


cry  from  the  aslies  of  our  repentance,  "Have 
morcy  upon  ine,  according  to  the  multitude  of 
thy  tender  mercies,  and  blot  but  my  transjrrcs- 
BJons."  Deign  thou  also  to  be  present,  O  great 
God,  and  "  Holy  one  of  Israel."  lieign  thou 
also  to  he  present  with  the  goodness,  the  love, 
the  bowels  of  compassion,  which  thou  hast  for 
poor  penitent  sinners!  Hear,  O  Lord,  hear,  O 
Lord,  and  pardon!     Amen. 


SERMON  LXXXIX. 


ON 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  UNPAR- 
DONABLE SIN. 


Hebrews  vi.  4 — 6. 
It  is  impossible  for  those  who  were  once  enli<;htened, 
and  have  lasted  of  the  heavenly  ^ft,  ami  were 
made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have  _______ 

tasted  the  good  word  of  Cod,  and  the  powers  of    to  come,— and  to  fall  away  in  defiance  of  bo 


says  he,  "  for  those  who  wore  once  enlightened, 
and  have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were 
made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have 
tasted  the  good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  come;  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance." 

St.  Paul,  after  having  pronounced  these  ter- 
rific words,  adds;  "  Jiehold  we  are  persuaded 
better  things  of  you."  Happy  apostle,  who, 
while  j)ronouncing  the  sentence  of  celestial 
vengeance,  could  tlatter  himself  that  it  would 
not  fall  on  any  of  his  audience.  But  we,  my 
brethren,  how  shall  we  say  to  yoa*  "  Beloved, 
we  are  persuaded  better  things  of  you."  The 
disposition  is  worthy  of  our  wishes.  M.iy  it 
be  the  eH'ect  of  this  discourse,  and  the  fruit  of 
our  ministry! 

To  have  been  enlightened, — to  have  tasted 
the  heavenly  gift, — to  have  been  partakers  of 
the  Holy  Ghost, — to  have  tasted  the  good 
word  of  God,  and  felt  the  powers  of  the  world 


the  world  to  come:  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to  re- 
new them  <^ain  unto  repentance. 
"How  dreadful  is  this  place!  This  is  none 
other  but  the  house  of  God,  and  this  is  the  gate 
of  heaven."  On  a  different  occasion,  there 
would  have  been  nothing  surprising  in  the  fears 
of  Jacob.  Had  God  revealed  himself  to  this 
patriarch  in  the  awful  glory  of  avenging  wrath, 
and  surrounded  with  devouring  fire,  "with 
darkness  and  with  tempest;"  it  would  have  been 
surprising  that  a  man,  that  a  sinner,  and  a  be- 
liever of  the  earlier  ages  of  the  church,  should 
have  been  vanquished  at  the  sight.  But,  at  a 
period  when  God  approached  him  with  the  tcn- 
derest  marks  of  love;  when  he  erected  a  mira- 
culous ladder  between  heaven  and  earth,  caus- 
ing the  angels  to  ascend  and  descend  for  tlie 
protection  of  his  servant;  when  he  addressed 
him  in  these  consolatory  words,  "  Behold  I  am 
with  thee,  I  will  keep  thee  in  all  places  whither 
thou  goest,  and  I  will  bring  thee  again  into  this 
land;  for  I  will  not  leave  thee;"  that  .Jacob 
should  tremble  in  such  a  moment,  is  what  we 
cannot  conceive  without  astonishment.  What! 
is  the  gate  of  heaven  dreadful;  and  is  the  house 
of  God  an  object  calculated  to  strike  terror  into 
the  mind.' 

My  brethren,  Jacob's  fear  unquestionably 
proceeded  from  the  presence  of  God,  from  the 
singularity  of  the  vision,  and  the  peculiar  scene- 
ry of  the  discovery,  which  had  struck  his  ima- 
gination. But  let  us  farther  extend  our  thoughts. 
Yes,  the  gate  of  heaven  is  terrible,  and  the  house 
of  God  is  dreadful!  and  his  favours  should  im- 
press solemnity  on  the  heart.  Distinguished 
favours  give  occasion  to  distinguished  crimes; 
anil  from  places  the  most  exalted  have  occurred 
the  greatest  falls.  St.  Paul,  in  the  words  of  my 
te.xt,  places  each  of  the  Hebrews,  whom  he  ad- 
dre.««ed,  in  the  situation  of  Jacob.  He  e.Khibits 
a  portrait  of  the  prodigies  achieved  in  their  fa- 
vour, since  their  conversion  to  Christianity;  the 
miracles  which  had  struck  their  senses;  the 
knowledge  which  had  irradiated  their  minds; 
and  the  impressions  which  had  been  made  on 
their  hearts.  He  opens  to  them  the  gate  of 
heaven;  but,  at  the  same  time,  re<]uircs  that 
they  should  e.xclaim,  "'How  dreadful  is  this 
place!"  From  this  profusion  of  grace,  he  draws 
motives  for  salutary  fear.     "  It  is  impossible," 


much  grace, — such  are  the  odious  trait»  em- 
ployed by  the  apostle  to  degrade  a  crime,  the 
nature  of  which  we  proceed  to  define.  The 
awful  characteristics  in  the  portrait,  and  the 
superadded  conclusion,  tliat  it  is  impossible  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance,  fully  ap- 
prize us,  that  he  here  speaks  of  the  foulest  of 
all  offences;  and,  at  the  same  time,  gives  us  a 
limited  notion  of  its  nature. 

Some  have  thought,  that  the  surest  way  to 
obtain  a  just  idea  of  the  sin,  was  to  represent  it 
by  every  atrocious  circumstance.  They  have 
collected  all  the  characteristics,  which  could 
add  aggravation  to  the  crime:  they  have  said, 
that  a  man  who  has  known  the  truth,  who  has 
despised,  hated,  and  opposed  it,  neither  through 
fear  of  punishment,  nor  hope  of  reward,  offer- 
ed by  tyrants  to  apostacy,  but  from  a  principle 
of  malice,  is  the  identical  person  of  whom  the 
apostle  speaks;  and  that  in  this  monstrous  as- 
sociation of  light,  conviction,  opposition,  and 
unconquerable  abhorrence  of  the  truth,  this  aw- 
ful crime  consists. 

Others,  proceeding  farther,  have  searched 
ancient  and  modern  history,  for  persons,  in 
whom  those  characteristics  associate;  that,  su- 
peradding example  to  description,  they  might 
exhibit  a  complete  portrait  of  the  sin,  into 
whose  nature  we  shall  now  inquire.  They 
have  selected  two  striking  examples.  Tlie  first 
is  that  of  the  emperor  Julian,  the  unworthy  ne- 
phew of  Constantino  the  Great,  designated  in 
history  under  the  odious  appellation  of  apostate, 
who,  afler  having  been  bred  in  the  bosom  of 
the  church,  and  af\er  having  olficiated  with  his 
brother,  as  reader  (do  not  be  surprised,  my  bre- 
thren, that  the  nephew  of  an  emperor  should 
wish  to  be  a  reader  in  the  church,  the  first 
Christians  had  higher  ideas  than  we  of  the  sa- 
cred functions,)  afler,  I  say,  having  sustained 
this  office,  abandoned  the  faith,  persecuted  the 
church,  endeavoured  to  refute  Christianity,  as- 
sumed the  character  of  chief  pontifia,  carried 
himself  to  that  excess  as  to  wish  to  efface  the 
impression  of  baptism  by  the  blood  of  victims, 
and  if  we  may  credit  a  tradition  reported  by 
Theodoret,  died  blaspheming  ajrainst  Jesus 
Christ.* 


*  Hilt.  Ecck*.  lib.  iii.  cap.  3. 


328 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF 


[Ser.  LXXXIX, 


The  second  example  is  that  of  the  most  Bin- 
gular  Vsnutian,  whose  memory  seems  handed 
down  to  posterity  solely  to  excite  horror,  and 
for  ever  to  intimidate  those  who  renounce  the 
truth.  His  name  is  Francis  Spierra.  He  had 
tasted  the  doctrine  of  the  Reformation,  and 
published  his  sentiments-,  but  on  being  cited 
before  the  pope's  nuncio,  and  menaced  with 
the  loss  of  his  head,  if  he  did  not  instantly  re- 
cant, his  fears  occasioned  his  baseness,  and  he 
had  the  weakness  to  make  a  public  renuncia- 
tion of  our  communion.  But  scarcely  had  he 
made  the  abjuration  ere  he  was  abandoned  to 
the  horrors  of  melancholy.  The  anguish  of 
his  mind  was  fatal  to  the  body;  and  as  one  en- 
deavoured to  convince  him  of  the  boundless 
mercy  of  God,  "  I  know  it,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  know  that  God  is  merciful;  but  this  mercy 
belongs  not  to  me,  to  me  who  have  denied  the 
truth.  I  have  sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost; 
I  already  feel  the  horrors  of  the  damned.  My 
terrors  are  insujjportable.  Who  will  deliver  my 
soul  from  this  body."*  Who  will  open  for  her 
the  caverns  of  the  abyss?  Wiio  will  chase  her 
into  the  darkest  abodes  of  hell?  I  am  damned 
without  resource.  I  consider  God  no  longer 
as  my  Father,  but  as  my  enemy.  1  detest 
him;  (is  it  possible  that  a  Christian  mouth 
should  open  with  the  like  blasphemies!)  1  de- 
test him  as  such.  1  am  impatient  to  join  the 
curses  of  the  demons  in  hell,  whose  pains  and 
horrors  1  already  feel."* 

In  the  course  of  this  sermon,  we  shall  endea- 
vour to  draw,  from  tiieir  method,  whatever 
may  most  contribute  to  your  instruction.  Rut, 
first  of  all,  we  deem  it  our  duty  to  make  some 
previous  observations,  and  to  derive  tiie  liglit 
from  its  source.  In  the  discussion  of  a  sin, 
solitary  in  its  nature,  the  Scriptures  having  ex- 
cluded none  from  salvation,  but  those  who  are 
guilty  of  this  oftence,  it  is  of  the  last  impor- 
tance to  review  all  those  passages,  which,  it  is 
presumed,  have  reference  to  the  crime:  we 
must  inquire  in  what  they  differ,  and  in  what 
they  agree,  drawing,  from  this  association  of 
light,  that  instruction,  which  cannot  be  derived 
from  any  other  source. 

The  task  will  not  exceed  our  limits,  tlierc 
being  at  most  but  four  texts,  in  which,  it  is  pre- 
sumed, the  Scriptures  speak  of  this  sin.  The 
first  is  in  the  gospels  where  mention  is  made  of 
speaking  or  blaspheming  against  llie  Holy 
Ghost:  "  I  say  unto  you,  all  manner  of  sin  and 
blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men;  but  the 
blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not 
be  forgiven  unto  men.  And  wiiosuvcr  speak- 
eth  a  word  against  the  Son  of  man,  it  sliall  be 
forgiven  him;  but  whosoever  speakclh  against 
the  Holy  Ghost,  it  siiall  not  be  forgiven  him, 
neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  that  whicii  is 
to  come."  This  text,  which  Augustine  deems 
the  most  difficult  in  the  Scriptures,  will  be- 
come intelligible,  if  we  examine  the  occasiou 
and  weigh  the  words. 

The  occasion  is  obvious  to  understand.  Jesus 
had  just  cured  a  demoniac.  The  Pharisees  had 
attested  the  fact,  and  could  not  deny  its  divine 
authority:  tlieir  eyes  decided  in  favour  of  Jesus 
Christ.     But  they  had  recourse  to  an  cxtraordi- 


*Our  author  IhouRlil  lumailf  justitird  in  reciting  tliis 
sad  case,  there  beini;  lliiiii>aiid»  lu  Kraiice  who  had  re- 
nounced Die  reformed  religion. 


nary  method  of  defaming  his  character.  Un- 
able to  destroy  the  force  of  the  miracle,  they 
maintained  that  it  proceeded  from  an  impure 
source,  and  that  it  was  by  the  power  of  the  , 
devil  Jesus  Christ  healed  this  afflicted  class  of 
men.  This  was  tlie  occasion  on  which  lie  pro- 
nounced the  words  we  have  recited. 

The  import  of  the  expressions  is  no  way  diifi- 
cull  to  comprehend.  Who  is  the  Son  of  Man? 
And  who  is  the  Holy  Ghost?  And  what  is  it 
to  speak  against  the  one  and  the  other?  The 
Son  of  man  is  Jesus  Christ  revealed  in  human 
form.  Without  staying  here  to  refute  a  mis- 
take of  the  learned  Grotius,  who  pretends  be- 
cause the  article  does  not  precede  the  word,  it 
is  not  to  be  understood  of  our  Saviour,  but  of 
men  in  general.  To  confirm  the  sense  hero 
attached  to  the  term,  we  shall  only  observe, 
that  St.  Luke,  chap.  xii.  8,  after  calling  our 
Saviour  "  the  Son  of  man,"  immediately  adds, 
"  Whosoever  siiall  speak  a  word  against  the 
Son  of  man,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him:"  where 
it  evidently  follows,  that  by  "  the  Son  of  man," 
Jesus  Christ  must  be  understood.  And  though 
the  expression  may  elsewhere  have  other  signi- 
fications, they  have  no  connexion  with  our 
subject. 

By  the  Holy  Ghost,  must  be  understood  the 
third  person  in  the  adorable  Trinity;  consider- 
ed  not  only  as   God,  but   as  Author  of  the 
miracles  achieved  for  the  confirmation  of  the 
gospel.     Hence,  to  "  speak  against  the  Son  of 
man,"  was  to  outrage  t!ie  Lord  Jesus;  to  render 
his  doctrine  suspected;  to  call  his  mission  in 
question;  and  particularly  to  be  offended  at  tiie 
humiliations  which   surrounded    it  on   earth. 
Such  was  tiieir  conduct  who  said,  "  Is  not  this 
the  carpenter's  son?  Can  there  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Nazareth?     A  gluttonous  man,  a 
wine-bibbcr,  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners." 
To  speak  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  was  ma- 
liciously to  reject  a  doctrine,  when  he  who  de- 
livered it,  confirmed  the  truth  of  it  by  so  dis- 
tinguished and  evident  a  miracle  as  healing  a 
demoniac;  and  to  ascribe  those  miracles  to  the 
devil,  which,  they  were  assured,  had  God  alone 
for  their  author.     Here,  1  conceive,  is  all  the 
light  we  can  derive  from  the  text.     And  as 
many  persons  determine  tlie  sense  of  the  text, 
not  so  much  by  the  letter  as  the  reputation  of 
the  interpreter,  we  must  apprize  tiiem,  that  we 
have  derived  this  explanation  not  only  from 
the  writings  of  our  most  celebrated  commenta- 
tors who  have  espoused  it,  but  also  from  tiie 
works  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  fathers — 
I  mean  Chrysostom.    The  following  is  the  sub- 
stance of  his  paraphrase  on  the  text  in  St.  Mat- 
thew:— "  You  have  called  me  a  deceiver,  and 
an  enemy  of  God;    1  forgive   tiiis  reproach. 
Having  some  cause  to  stumble  at  the  llesh  with 
which  1  am  clothed,  you  miglit  not  know  who 
1  am.     But  can  you  bo  ignorant  that  the  cast- 
ing out  of  demons,  is  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Ghost'     For  this  cause,  he  who  says,  that  1  do 
these  miracles  by  Beelzebub,  shall  not  obtain 
remission." 

Such  is  the  comment  of  Chrysostom,  to 
whom  we  add  the  remark  of  an  author,  wor- 
tiiy  of  superior  confidence;  it  is  St.  Mark,  who 
subjoins  these  words:  "  Because  the  Pharisees 
said  lie  hath  an  unclean  spirit."  Hence  it  is 
inferred  that  the   Pharisees,  by  ascribing  the 


Ser.  LXXXIX.] 


THE  UNPARDONABLE  SIN. 


329 


miracles  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  an  unclean 
spirit,  were  guilty  of  the  identical  sin  against 
the  Holy  Ghost,  of  which  Jesus  Christ  had 
spoken:  as  is  a|)parent!y  proved. 

^fi  The  second  text  we  shall  explain,  occurs  in 
the  fifth  chapter  of  the  first  epistle  of  St.  John. 
"  If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin  a  sin  whicii 
is  not  unto  death,  he  shall  ask,  and  he  shall 
I  give  him  life  for  them  that  sin  not  unto  death: 

there  is  a  sin  unto  death;  I  do  not  say  ye  shall 
pray  for  it."  On  this  question  there  are,  as 
we  usually  say,  as  many  opinions  as  parties. 

Consult  the  doctors  of  the  Romish  church, 
and  they  will  establisii,  on  these  words,  the 
frivolous  distinction  between  venial  and  mortal 
sins;  a  conjecture  both  false,  and  directly  op- 
posed to  the  design  of  those  from  whom  it  pro- 
ceeds. Because,  if  this  sense  be  true,  the  mo- 
ment a  man  commits  a  mortal  sin,  prayer  must 
cease  with  regard  to  him;  and  he  who  com- 
mits a  venial  sin,  will  still  need  the  prayers  of 
saints  to  avoid  a  death  lie  has  not  deserved; 
this  is  not  only  indefensible,  but  what  the  Ca- 
tholics themselves  would  not  presume  to  main- 
tain. 

Waving  the  various  glosses  of  the  Nova- 
tians,  and  other  commentators,  do  you  ask 
what  is  the  idea  we  should  attach  to  these 
words  of  the  apostle,  and  what  is  the  sin  of 
which  he  here  speaks.'  We  repeat  what  we 
have  already  intimated,  that  it  is  difficult  to  ex- 
plain. However,  on  investigating  the  views  of 
the  apostle  throughout  the  chapter,  we  discover 
the  sense  of  this  text.  His  design  was,  to  em- 
bolden the  young  converts  in  the  profession  of 
the  religion  they  had  so  happily  embraced. 
With  this  view,  he  here  recapitulates  the  proofs 
which  established  iis  truth:  "  There  are  three 
that  bear  witness  on  earth,  the  water,  and  the 
spirit,  and  the  blood.  It  is  the  innocence  of  the 
primitive  Christians,  which  is  called  the  u-ater; 
the  miracles  which  are  called  the  spirit;  and 
martyrdom,  by  which  the  faithful  have  sealed 
their  testimony,  and  which  is  called  the  blood: 
attesting  that  those  three  classes  of  witnesses, 
demonstrate  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion, 
and  render  its  opposers  utterly  inexcusable. 

After  these  and  similar  observations,  the 
apostle  says  expressly,  that  he  wrote  for  tlie 
confirmation  of  their  faith,  and  closes  with  this 
exhortation:  "  Little  children,  keep  yourselves 
from  idols."  Between  these  two  texts,  occur 
the  words  we  wish  to  explain:  "  There  is  a  sin 
unto  death:  1  do  not  say  that  ye  shall  pray  for 
it."  Must  not  "  the  sin  unto  death,"  be  that, 
«gainst  which  he  wished  to  fortify  the  saints; 
1  mean  apostacy? 

What!  you  will  say,  is  a  man  lost  without 
remedy  who  has  denied  the  truth;  and  is  every 
one  in  the  sad  situation  of  those  for  whom  the 
apostle  prohibits  prayerf  God  forbid,  my  bre- 
thren, that  we  should  preach  so  strange  a  doc- 
trine; and  once  more  renew  the  Novatian  se- 
verity! There  are  two  kinds  of  apostates,  and 
two  kinds  of  apostacies:  there  is  one  kind  of 
apostacy  into  which  we  fall  by  the  fear  of 
punishment,  or  on  the  blush  of  the  moment, 
by  the  promises  Satan  makes  to  his  proselytes. 
There  is  another,  inio  which  we  fall  by  the 
enmity  we  have  against  the  truth,  by  the  de- 
testable pleasure  we  take  in  opposing  its  force. 
It  were  cruel  to  account  the  first  ot  these  of- 
VoL.  11.— 42 


fences,  "  a  sin  unto  death;"  but  the  Spirit  of 
God  ])rompts  us  to  attach  this  idea  to  the 
second.  'J'hero  are  likewise  two  kinds  of  apos- 
tates. There  is  one  class,  who  have  made  only 
small  attainments  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth;  weak  and  imperfect  Christians,  unac- 
i|uaintcd  as  yet  with  the  joys  and  transporta 
excited  in  the  soul  by  a  religion,  which  pro- 
mises remission  of  sin,  and  everlasting  felicity. 
There  is  another,  on  the  contrary,  to  whom 
God  has  given  superior  knowledge,  to  whom 
he  has  conununicated  the  gifts  of  miracles,  and 
whom  he  has  caused  to  experience  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  promise.  It  would  be  hard  to  re- 
ject the  first;  but  the  apostle  had  regard  to  the 
second.  Those,  according  to  St.  John,  who 
have  committed  the  "  sin  unto  death,"  are  the 
persons  who  abjure  Christianity,  after  the  re- 
ception of  all  those  gifts.  In  the  primitive 
church,  where  some  were  honoured  with  the 
endowment  of  discerning  spirits,  there  proba* 
bly  were  brethren  who  could  discern  the  latter 
apostates  from  the  former. 

These  observations  lead  to  the  illustration     ^^ 
of  the  two  passages  yet  to  be  explained:  tho  ' 

one  is  in  the  tenth  chapter  to  the  Ilebrews;  the  J^ 
other  is  our  text.  In  both  these  passages,  it  is 
obvious  the  apostle  had  the  second  class  of 
apostates  in  view.  This  is  very  apparent  from 
our  text.  Throughout  the  whole  of  this  epistle, 
it  is  easy  tc  prove,  that  the  apostle's  wish  was 
the  prevention  of  apostacy.  He  especially  de- 
signed to  demonstrate,  that  to  renounce  Chris- 
tianity, after  attesting  its  confirmation  by  mira- 
cles, here  denominated  "distributions  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,"  was  a  crime  of  the  grossest  enor- 
mity. He  has  the  same  design  in  the  text. 
Let  us  examine  the  terms. 

1.  "They  were  once  enlightened;"  that  is,  >^ 

they  had  known  the  truth.  They  had  com- 
pared the  prophets  with  the  apostles,  the  pro- 
phecies with  the  accomplishment;  and  by  the 
collective  force  of  truth,  they  were  fully  per- 
suaded that  Jesus  was  the  Messiah.  Or,  if  you 
please,  "  they  were  once  enlightened;"  that  is, 
'■  they  were  baptized;"  bajttism,  in  the  primi- 
tive church,  succeeding  instruction,  according 
to  that  precept  of  Christ,  "  Go  ye  and  teach 
all  nations,  baptizing  them,"  &.c.  St.  Paul,  at 
the  begimung  of  this  ciiapter,  speaking  of  bap- 
tism, expresses  the  same  sentiment.  So  also  we 
are  to  understand  St.  Peter,  when  he  says,  that 
"  the  baptism  which  now  saves  us,  is  not  the  put- 
ting away  the  filth  of  the  tlesh,  but  the  answer 
of  a  good  conscience."  The  answer  of  a  good 
conscience,  is  the  rectitude  of  conduct,  result- 
ing from  the  catechumen's  knowledge  and 
faith.  Hence  they  commonly  gave  the  appel- 
lation of  illuminated  to  a  man  after  baptism. 
"  The  washing  of  baptism,"  says  Justin  Martyr, 
"  is  called  illumination;  because  he  who  is  in- 
structed in  these  mysteries,  is  enlightened." 
Hence  also  the  Syriac  version,  instead  of  en- 
lightened, as  our  reading  which  follows  the 
Greek,  has  rendered  it  baptized. 

~.  "They  had  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift;" 
that  is,  they  had  experienced  the  serenity  of 
that  peace,  which  we  feel  when  we  no  longer 
fear  the  punishment  of  sin:  having  passed,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  the  rigorous  road  of  repentance, 
into  favour  with  God. 

3.  "  They  were  made  partakers  of  the  Holy 


330 


OiN  tml:  nature  of 


[Sbr.  LXXXIX. 


(îhost,  tlipy  Jiail  relislied  thi;  (^ood  word  of  God, 
and  tlio  j>o\vi;rs  of  tlio  world  to  come."  All 
tlieso  various  expressions  may  be  understood 
of  niiiacies  perlbrnied  in  tliinr  |treseiice,  or 
acliic'vcd  by  tbcmselves.  The  Holy  Ciiiost  him- 
self has  assumed  this  ucci-ptation,  in  various 
parts  of  the  Scriptures,  us  in  that  remarkable 
passaire  in  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  the  Acts, 
"  IJave  ye  received  the  Holy  (îhost?" — We 
have  not  so  much  as  heard,  wheliier  there  be 
any  Holy  Ghost.  The  goud  word,  says  Grotius, 
is  tiie  promise  of  God,  as  in  the  twenty-ninth 
of  Jeremiah,  "  1  will — perform  my  i^ood  word 
towards  you;"  that  is,  my  promise;  and  one  of 
the  greatest  promises  made  to  the  jirimilive 
Christians,  was  the  gift  of  miracles.  "  'I'hese 
sijrns,"  says  Jesus,  "shall  follow  them  that  be- 
hove; in  n>y  name  they  shall  cast  out  devils, 
they  shall  speak  with  toiijjues,  they  shall  take 
up  serpents."  In  fine,  "the  ])owers  of  the 
world  to  come,"  were,  likewi.se,  the  prodijries 
to  be  achieved  during  the  pospel  economy; 
which  the  Jews  call  the  age,  or  world  to  come; 
prodigies  elsewhere  railed,  the  "  exceeding 
greatness  of  his  power,  and  the  mighty  work- 
ing of  his  power." 

These  are  the  endowments,  with  which  the 
persons  in  question  were  favoured;  their  crime 
was  apostacy.  "  It  is  impo.ssible,  if  they  tall 
away,  to  renew  them  again  unto  rejicntancc." 
To  fall  aifuij,  docs  not  characterize  the  state 
of  a  man,  who  relapses,  after  having  obtained 
remission.  How  deploralde  soever  his  situa- 
tion may  be,  it  is  not  without  resource.  'J"he 
falling  away  in  our  lcs.i  signifies  a  total  defec- 
tion; and  entire  rejection  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
of  his  religion.  The  falling  away,  according 
to  .St.  i'aul,  in  the  ninth  chajUer  of  his  epistle 
to  the  Romans,  marks  the  lirst  stage  of  obdu- 
racy in  the  Jewish  nation.  But  the  falling 
away  in  our  te.vt,  is  not  oidy  a  rejection  of  i 
Christ,  but  a  rejection  at'ter  having  known  him: 
it  is  not  only  to  reject,  but  to  outrage  and  per- 
secute him  with  malice  and  enmity  oi"  heart. 
llvrt:  is  all  the  information  we  can  derive  from 
the  text.  The  imjjardonable  sin,  in  these 
words,  is  that  of  apostates;  and  such  as  we 
have  characterized  in  the  preceding  remarks. 

This  also  is  ihe  gerniine  im[)ort  of  the  tenth 
chapter  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  "  Jf  we 
sill  wilfully,  aller  having  received  the  know- 
ledge of  the  truth,"  as  would  be  easy  to  i)rove. 
Now,  if  you  have  been  attentive  to  all  the 
considerations  we  have  just  advanced:  if  you 
have  understood  the  explanations  wo  have 
given  ul"tlie  several  te.xts,  you  may  form  a  cor- 
rect idea  of  the  unpardonable  sin.  You  may 
know  what  this  crime  was,  at  least,  in  the 
time  of  the  primitive  church.  It  was  denying, 
lialiiig,  and  maliciously  opposing  the  Iruth,  at 
the  nmnient  they  wen;  persuaded  it  ])roceeded 
t'rom  God.  Two  classes  of  men  might  commit 
this  crime  in  the  apostolic  agi;. 

Fir.t,  Ihose  who  had  never  cmhrai-ed  C!hristi-  • 
anity;  but  opposed  its  |irogress  in  defiance  of  i 
rational  conviction,  and  the  dictate.'^  of  con-  | 
science.  This  was  the  sin  of  the  Pharisees,  | 
who  maliciously  ascriixd  to  the  devil  miracles,  I 
which  they  knew  could  have  God  alone  for  1 
their  author. 

Secondly,  those  who  had  embraced  the  gos-  \ 
pel,  who  had  been  baptized,  who  had  received  i 


the  gift  of  miracles,  and  experienced  all  the 
graces  enumerated  in  the  text.  This  was  the 
SHI  of  tlio.'fc,  who,  after  conversion,  abjured  the 
truth,  and  pronounced  against  Jesus  (  lirist  the 
anathemas  which  his  enemies,  and  particularljA  o 
the  Jews,  reipiired  of  apostates.  These  St.  • 
Paul  had  in  view,  in  the  words  of  our  text, 
and  in  tiie  teiitii  chai»ler  of  this  epistle.    Of  this  i 

St.  John  also  s|)ake,  when  he  said,  "  there  is  a  1 

sin  unto  death."  Hence  the  sin  described  in 
these  three  j)assages,  and  the  sin  against  the 
Holy  (Jhost,  is  the  same  in  quality,  if  1  may 
so  speak,  though  diversified  in  circumstances: 
we  have,  consequently,  comprised  the  whole  un- 
der the  vague  ajipellation  of  unpardonable  sin. 
After  these  considerations,  perhaps,  you  al- 
ready rejoice.  This  sermon,  designed  to  in- 
spire the  soul  with  sanctrfying  fear,  has,  per- 
haps, already  contributed  to  Hatter  your  secu- 
rity: you  no  longer  see  any  thing  in  the  text, 
which  atiects  your  case;  nor  any  thing  in  the 
most  disorderly  life,  connected  with  a  crime, 
peculiar  to  the  primitive  Christians.  I^et  as 
dissipate,  if  possible,  .so  dangerous  an  illusion. 
We  have  done  little,  by  tracing  the  manner  in 
which  the  first  witnesses  of  the  gospel  became 
guilty  of  the  unpardonable  sin;  we  must  also 
inquire,  what  relation  it  may  have  to  us. 

in  general,  it  is  not  possible  to  hear  subjects 
of  this  nature  discussed,  without  a  variety  of 
{jucstions  revolving  in  the  mind,  and  asking 
one's  self,  have  I  not  already  committed  this 
sin.'  Does  not  such  and  sucii  a  vice,  by  which 
I  am  captivated,  constitute  its  essence.'  Or, 
if  1  have  never  committed  it  yet,  may  I  not 
fall  into  it  at  a,  future  period.'  It  is  but  just, 
brethren,  to  aflord  you  satisfaction  on  point» 
so  important.  Never  did  we  discuss  more 
serious  questions;  and  we  frankly  acknowledge, 
th:it  all  we  have  hitherto  advanced,  wa.s  merely 
introductory  to  what  we  have  yet  to  s;iy;  and 
for  which  we  require  tiie  whole  of  the  attention, 
with  which  you  have  favoured  us. 

Thoiigli  truth  is  always  the  same,  and  never 
acconimodates  itself  to  the  humours  of  an  audi- 
ence, it  is  an  invari:ible  duty  to  resolve  these 
(juestions  according  to  the  characters  of  the  in- 
ipiirers.  The  (piestions  amount  in  substance 
to  this:  Can  a  man  in  this  age  commit  the  un- 
pardonable sin.'  And,  1  assure  you,  they  may 
bo  proposed  from  three  priiicii)les,  widely  dif- 
ferent from  each  otiier:  from  a  melancholy, 
from  a  timorous,  and  a  cautious  disposition. 
We  shall  diversify  our  solutions,  conlormably 
to  this  diversity  ot' character. 

1.  One  may  make  this  inquiry  through  a 
melancholy  disposition;  and  mental  derange- 
ment is  an  awful  coin|>laint.  It  is  a  disease 
whicii  corrupts  the  blood,  stagnates  the  spirits, 
and  llags  the  mind.  I'Vom  the  body,  it  quickly 
communicates  to  tiie  soul;  it  induces  the  sul- 
fercrs  to  regard  every  object  on  the  dark  side; 
to  indulge  phantoms,  and  cherish  anguish, 
which,  excluding  all  consolation,  wholly  de- 
votes the  mind  to  objects,  by  wliich  it  is  alarmed 
and  tormented.  A  man  oi'this  disposition,  on 
examining  his  conscience,  and  reviewing  his 
life,  will  draw  his  own  churacter  in  the  deepest 
colours.  He  will  construe  his  weakness  into 
wickedness,  and  his  iiifirniiti(;s  into  crimes;  he 
will  magnify  the  number,  and  .iggravato  the 
atrocity  of  his  sins;  he  will  class  himself,  in 


Ser.  LXXXIX] 


THE  UNPARDONABLE  SIN. 


331 


short,  with  the  worst  of  human  characters. 
And,  our  reasons  for  self-condemnation  and 
abasement  before  God,  beinjj  always  too  well 
founded,  tlie  ])erson  in  question,  proceeding 
«ron  these  principles,  and  mistaking  the  causes 
of  humiliation  and  repentance,  for  just  subjects 
of  horror  and  despair,  readily  i)clieves  himself 
lost  without  resource,  and  guilty  of  the  unpar- 
donable sin. 

VVitliout  doubt,  it  is  highly  proper  to  reason 
with  people  of  this  description.  We  should 
endeavour  to  compose  Ihem,  and  enter  into 
their  sentiments,  in  order  to  attack  their  argu- 
ments with  more  cffeet;  hut,  after  all,  a  man 
so  at}1i(;ted  has  more  need  of  a  physiciuii  than 
.a  minister,  and  of  medicine  than  sermons.  If 
it  is  not  a  hopeless  case,  we  must  endeavour  to 
remove  the  complaint,  by  means  which  nature 
and  art  allbrd;  by  air,  exercise,  and  iimocent 
re(!reations.  Above  all,  we  must  pray  that 
(iinl  would  "  cause  the  l)oncs  he  has  broken  to 
rejoict?;"  and  that  he  would  not  abandon,  to 
the  remorse  and  torments  of  tlio  damned,  souls 
redoemed  by  the  blood  of  his  beloved  Son,  and 
reconciled  by  his  sacrifice. 

2.  This  inquiry  may  also  1)0  made  through 
a  timorous  disposition.  We  distinguish  timidity 
from  HHîlnDclioly;  the  first  being  a  disposition 
of  the  mind,  occasioned  by  the  mistaken  notions 
we  entertain  of  God  and  his  word;  the  second, 
of  the  body.  The  timorous  man  fixes  his  eye 
on  what  the  Scriptures  say  of  the  justice  of 
God,  without  paying  adequate  attention  to 
what  is  said  of  his  mercy.  He  looks  solely  at 
the  perfection  to  which  a  Christian  is  called, 
without  ever  regarding  the  leniency  of  the 
gospel.  Such  a  man,  like  the  melancholy  per- 
son, is  readily  induced  to  tiiink  himself  guilty 
of  the  unpardonable  sin.  Should  he  ilatter 
iiimself  with  not  having  yet  perpetrated  tlic 
deed,  he  lives  in  a  continual  fear.  This  fear 
may,  indeed,  proceed  from  a  good  principle, 
and  be  productive  of  happy  effects,  in  exciting 
vigilance  and  care;  but,  if  not  incompatible  with 
the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God,  it  is  at  least 
repugnant  to  the  peace  they  may  obtain;  which 
constitutes  one  of  the  sweetest  comforts  of  re- 
ligion, ami  one  of  the  most  effectual  motives 
to  conciliate  the  heart. 

If  a  man  of  this  description  should  ask  me, 
whether  one  may  now  commit  the  unpardon- 
able sin?  1  would  repeat  what  I  have  just  said, 
that  this  sin,  in  all  its  circumstances,  has  pecu- 
liar reference  to  the  miracles  by  which  God 
formerly  confirmed  the  evangelical  doctrine; 
and  conse<|uently,  to  account  himself  at  this 
period  guilty  of  the  crime,  is  to  follow  the  emo- 
tions of  fear,  rather  than  the  conviction  of  ar- 
gument. I  would  compare  the  sin  which 
alarms  his  con.scicnce,  with  that  of  the  uiihap- 
jiy  man  of  wiiom  we  spake.  I  would  prove 
by  this  comjiarison,  that  the  disposition  of  a 
man,  who  utters  blasphemy  against  .lesus 
Christ,  who  makes  open  war  with  the  profes- 
sors of  his  doctrine,  has  no  resemblance  to  the 
style  of  another,  who  sins  with  remorse  and 
contrition;  who  wrestles  with  tlie  old  man; 
who  sometinips  conquers,  and  sometimes  is 
conquered:  though  he  has  sufficient  cause  from 
his  sin  to  perceive,  that  the  love  of  God  by  no 
means  properly  burns  in  his  heart;  he  has, 
however,  encouragement  from  his  victories,  to 


admit  that  it  is  not  totally  extinguished.  I 
would  assist  this  man  to  enter  more  minutely 
into  his  state;  to  consider  the  holy  fears  which 
fdl,  the  terrors  which  agitate,  and  the  remorse 
which  troubles  his  heart;  and  in  such  a  way  as 
to  derive  from  the  cau.se  of  his  grief,  motives 
of  cf)tisolation.  We  should  never  stretch  our 
subjects,  nor  divide  what  Jesus  Christ  has  join- 
ed by  a  happy  temperature.  If  you  look  srde- 
ly  at  the  mercy  of  God,  you  will  tmavoidahly 
form  excuses  to  flatter  your  security;  if  voci 
confine  your  regards  to  his  justice,  yon  will 
fall  into  despair.  It  is  this  happy  temperature 
of  s(!verity  jiid  indulgence,  of  mercy  and  jus- 
tice, of  hope  and  fear,  which  bring.s  tlw^  soul  of 
a  saint  to  jiermanent  repose;  it  is  this  hippy 
temperature  which  constitutes  tlie  heajify  of 
religion,  and  renders  it  efficacious  in  the  con- 
vcrsi<in  of  mankind.  This  should  be  our  me- 
thod with  persons  of  a  doubtful  disposition. 

Ihit  wo  unto  IIS,  if  under  the  pretext  of  giv- 
ing the  lileral  iin|M)rt  of  a  text  of  Scripture, 
we  should  conceal  its  general  design;  a  design 
equally  interesting  to  Chri-stians  of  every  ago 
and  nation,  and  which  crmcerns  you,  my  bre- 
thren, in  a  peculiar  manner;  wo  unto  us,  if  un- 
der a  pretence  of  comjiosing  the  conscience  of 
the  timorous,  we  should  afford  the  slightest  en- 
couragement to  the  hardened,  to  flatter  their 
security,  jind  confirm  them  in  their  obduracy 
of  heart. 

."J.  This  inquiry, — Whether  we  can  now  com- 
mit the  unpardonable  sin? — may  likewise  be 
made  on  the  ground  of  caution,  and  that  we 
may  know  the  danger,  only  in  order  to  avoid 
it.     Follow  us  in  our  reply. 

We  cannot  commit  this  sin  with  regard  to 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  tlwse  who  lived 
in  the  first  ages  of  the  church.     This  has  been 
proved,  I  think,  by  the  preceding  arguments; 
no  person  having  seen  .Jesus  Christ  work  mira- 
cles, and,  like  the  Pharisees,  having  called  him 
Beelzebub;  nor  has  any  one  received  the  gift 
of  miracles,  and  afterwards  denied  the  truth, 
as  those  apostates,  of  whom  we  spake.     Jîut  a 
man   mav  commit  the  crime,  with   regard   to 
what  constitutes  its  essence,  and  its  atrocity- 
This  also  we  hope  to  jirove.      Kor,  I  ask,  what 
constituted  the  enormity  of  the  crime?    Was 
it  the  miracles,  simply  considered?     Or  was  it 
the  conviction  and  sentiments  which  ensued, 
and  which   proceeded   from  the  hearts  of  the 
witnesses?  Without  a  doubt  it  was  the  convic- 
tion and  the  sentiments,  and  not  the  miracles 
and  prodigies,  se])arately  considered,  and  with- 
out the  least  regard  to  their  seeing  them  per- 
formed, or  themselves  being  the  workers.     If 
we   shall,   therefore,    prove,    that    the   efforts 
which  Providence  now  employs  for  the  conver- 
sion of  mankind,  may  convey  to  the  mind  the 
same  conviction,  and   excite   the  same  senti- 
ments aflbrdcd  to  the  witnesses  of  these  mira- 
cles, shall  we  not  consequently  prove,  that  if 
men  now  resist  the  gracious  efforts  of  Provi- 
dence, they  are  equally  guilty  as  the  ancients; 
and,  of  course,  that  which  constitutes  the  es- 
sence and  atrocity  of  the  unpardonable  sin, 
subsists  at  this  period,  as  in  the  apostolic  age. 
1.  A  man,  at  this   period,  may  sin  rgainst 
the  clearest  light.     Do  not  say  that  he  cannot 
sin  against  the  same  degree  of  light,  which  ir- 
radiated the  primitive  church.     I  allow  that 


332 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF 


[Ser.  LXXXIX. 


none  of  yo»  have  seen  the  miracles  performed 
for  the  confirmation  of  our  faith;  hut  I  will 
venture  to  affirm,  that  there  are  trutlis  as  pal- 
pable, as  if  they  had  been  confirmed  by  mira- 
cles; I  will  venture  to  affirm,  that  if  tiiey  col- 
lect all  the  proofs  wc  have  of  our  Saviour's 
mission,  there  will  result  a  conviction  to  the 
mind  as  clear,  as  that  which  resulted  to  the 
Pharisees,  on  seeing  the  dcnioniac  healed. 

2.  What  constituted  the  atrocity  of  the  crime 
in  the  first  ages,  was  attacking  this  religion, 
whose  evidence  they  had  attested.  This  may 
also  be  found  among  men  of  our  own  time.  A 
man,  who  is  convinced  that  tiie  Christian  reli- 
gion was  revealed  from  heaven; — a  man  vviio 
doubts  not,  among  all  the  religious  connexions 
in  the  Christian  world,  that  to  which  he  ad- 
heres is  among  the  purest; — a  man  who  aban- 
dons this  religion; — a  man  who  argues,  who 
disputes,  who  writes  volume  upon  volume,  to 
vindicate  his  apostacy,  and  attacks  those  very 
truths,  whose  evidence  he  cannot  but  perceive; 
Buch  a  man  has  not  committed  the  unpardona- 
ble sin  in  its  whole  extent;  but  he  has  so  far 
proceeded  to  attack  the  truths,  of  whose  ve- 
racity he  was  convinced. 

3.  What  farther  constituted  the  atrocity  of 
the  crime,  was  falling  au-ay;  not  by  tlie  fear 
of  punishment,  not  by  the  first  charms  Satan 

Presents  to  his  proselytes,  but  by  a  principle  of 
atred  against  truths,  so  restrictive  of  human 
passions.  This  may  also  be  found  among  men 
of  our  own  age.  For  example,  a  man  who 
mixes  in  our  congregations,  who  reads  our 
books,  who  adiieres  to  our  worship;  but  who, 
in  his  ordinary  conversation,  endeavours  to 
discredit  those  trutlis,  to  establish  deism  or  im- 
piety, and  abandons  himself  to  this  excess,  be- 
cause he  hates  a  religion  which  gives  him  in- 
quietude and  pain,  and  wishes  to  expunge  it 
from  every  heart;  this  man  has  not  committed 
the  unpardonable  sin  in  all  its  extent,  but  he 
has  80  far  proceeded  as  to  hate  the  truth. 

4.  What,  lastly,  rendered  the  crime  atrocious 
with  regard  to  apostates,  was  their  running  to 
this  excess,  after  having  tasted  the  happiness, 
which  the  hope  of  salvation  produces  in  the 
«oui.  This  may,  likewise,  be  found  among 
Christians  of  our  own  age.  For  example  a 
temporary  professor; — a  man  (to  avail  myself 
of  an  expression  of  Jesus  Christ)  who  "  receives 
the  word  with  joy;" — a  man,  who  has  long 
prayed  with  fervour,  who  has  communicated 
with  transports  of  delight; — a  man  of  this  de- 
scription, who  forgets  all  these  delights,  who 
resists  all  these  attractive  charms,  and  sacri- 
fices them  to  the  advantages  ollered  by  a  false 
religion;  he  has  not  yet  committed  the  unpar- 
donable sin,  but  he  surely  has  the  characteris- 
tic "  of  falling  away,  after  having  been  once 
enlightened,  and  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift." 

You  now  perceive,  my  brethren,  that  all 
these  characteristics  may  bo  found  separately 
among  men  of  our  own  age.  Hut  should  there 
be  a  man  in  whom  they  all  unite;  a  man  who 
has  known  and  abjured  the  truth;  who  has  not 
only  abjured,  but  opposed  and  persecuted  it, 
not  in  a  moment  of  surprise,  and  at  the  sight 
of  racks  and  tortures,  but  from  a  principle  of 
enmity  and  hatred;  do  you  not  think  he  would 
have  just  cause  to  fear,  that  ho  had  committed 
the  "  unpardonable  sin.'' 


To  collect  the  whole  in  two  words,  and  in  a 
yet  shorter  way  to  resolve  the  question,  "  Is  it 
possible  now  to  commit  the  unpardonable  sin?" 
I  answer:  Wc  cannot  commit  it  with  regard 
to  every  circumstance;  but,  in  regard  to  what 
constitutes  its  essence  and  atrocity,  it  may  be 
committed;  and  though  men  seldom  fall  so 
deeply,  yet  it  is  not  impossible.  Few  com- 
plete the  crime;  but  many  commit  it  in  part, 
and  in  degree.  Some  imagine  themselves  to 
be  guilty  by  an  ill-founded  fear;  but  a  much 
greater  number  are  daily  going  the  awful  road, 
and,  through  an  obstinate  security,  unperceiv- 
ed.  They  ought,  of  course,  to  reject  the 
thought  of  having  proceeded  to  that  excess; 
hut,  at  the  same  time,  to  take  precaution,  that, 
in  the  issue,  the  dreadful  period  may  never 
come,  which  is  nearer,  perhaps,  than  they  im- 
agine. 


APPLICATION. 

What  effects  shall  the  truths  we  have  de- 
livered, produce  on  your  minds.'  Shall  they 
augment  your  pride,  excite  vain  notions  of 
your  virtue,  and  suggest  an  apology  for  vice, 
because  you  cannot,  in  the  portrait  we  have 
given,  recognise  your  own  character.'  Is  your 
glory  derived  from  the  consideration,  that  your 
depravity  has  not  attained  the  highest  pitch, 
and  that  there  yet  remains  one  point  of  horror, 
at  which  you  have  not  arrived.'  Will  you  suf- 
fer the  wounds  to  corrode  your  heart,  under 
the  notions  that  they  are  not  desperate,  and 
there  is  still  a  remedy.'  And  do  you  expect  to 
repent,  and  to  ask  forgiveness,  when  repent- 
ance is  impracticable;  and  when  all  access  to 
mercy  is  cut  off? 

But  who  among  our  hearers  can  be  actuated 
by  so  great  a  frenzy?  What  deluded  conscience 
can  enjoy  repose  under  a  pretext,  that  it  has 
not  yet  committed  the  unpardonable  sin? — 
Whence  is  it,  after  all,  that  this  crime  is  so 
dreadful?  All  the  reasons  which  may  be  as- 
signed, terminate  here,  as  in  their  centre,  that 
it  precipitates  the  soul  into  hell.  But  is  not 
hell  the  end  of  every  sin?  There  is  this  dift'er- 
ence,  it  must  be  observed,  between  the  unpai^ 
donable  sin,  and  other  sins,  tliat  he  who  com- 
mits it  is  lost  without  resource;  whereas,  after 
other  sins,  wo  have  a  sure  remedy  in  conver- 
sion. But,  in  all  cases,  a  man  must  repent, 
reform  and  become  a  new  creature;  for  we 
find  in  religion,  what  we  find  in  the  human 
body,  some  diseases  quite  incurable,  and  others 
which  may  be  removed  with  application  and 
care:  but  they  have  both  the  similarity  of  bo- 
coming  incurable  by  neglect;  and  what,  at 
first,  was  but  a  slight  indisposition,  becomes 
mortal  by  presumption  and  delay. 

Besides,  there  arc  few  persons  among  »is, — 
there  are  few  monsters  in  nature,— capable  of 
carrying  wickedness,  all  at  once,  to  the  point 
wo  have  described.  But  how  many  are  there 
who  walk  the  awful  road,  and  who  attain  to 
it  by  degrees?  They  do  not  arrive,  in  a  mo- 
ment, at  the  summit  of  impiety.  The  first  es- 
says of  the  sinner,  are  not  those  horrid  traits 
which  cause  nature  to  recoil.  A  man  educated 
in  the  Christian  religion,  does  not  descend,  all 
at  once,  from  the  full  lustre  of  truth,  to  the 
i  profoundest  darkness.  His  fault,  at  first,  was 
I  mere  detraction;  thence  he  proceeded  to  negli- 


Ser.  LXXXIX.] 


THE  UNPARDONABLE  SIN. 


333 


gence;  thence  to  vice;  next  he  stifles  remorse; 
and,  lastly,  proceeds  to  the  commission  of  enor- 
mous crimes:  so  he  who,  in  the  beginning, 
trembled  at  the  thought  of  a  weakness,  be- 
comes insensible  of  the  foulest  deeds,  and  of  a 
conduct  tiie  most  atrocious. 

There  is  one  reflection  with  which  you  can- 
not be  too  mucli  impressed,  in  an  age  in  wiiich 
Jesus  Christ  approaclies  us  with  his  light,  witli 
his  Spirit,  and  with  all  the  advantages  of  the 
evangelical  economy;  that  is,  concerning  the 
awful  consequences  of  not  improving  these 
privileges,  according  to  their  original  design. 
You  rejoice  to  live  in  tlic  happy  age,  which 
"so  many  kings  and  prophets  have  desired  to 
see."  You  have  reason  so  to  do.  But  you  re- 
joice \a  these  privileges,  wiiile  eacli  of  you 
persist  in  a  favourite  vice,  and  a  predomi- 
nant habit;  and  because  you  arc  neither  Jews 
nor  heathens,  you  expect  to  find,  in  religion, 
means  to  compose  a  conscience,  abandoned 
to  every  kind  of  vice:  this  is  a  most  extraor- 
dinary, and  almost  general  prejudice  among 
Christians.  But  this  liglit,  in  which  you  re- 
joice,— this  Christianity,  by  which  you  are  dis- 
tinguished,— this  faith,  whicii  constitutes  your 
glory,  will  aggravate  your  condemnation,  if 
your  lives  continue  unreformed.  The  Phari- 
sees were  higlily  favoured  by  seeing  Jesus 
Christ  in  the  flesh,  by  attesting  his  miracles, 
and  hearing  the  wisdom  which  descended  from 
his  lips;  but  these  were  the  privileges  which 
caused  their  sin  to  be  irrémissible.  The  He- 
brews were  happy  by  being  enlightened,  by 
tasting  of  tiie  heavenly  gift,  and  the  powers 
of  the  evangelical  economy;  but  this  iiappi- 
ness,  on  tlieir  falling  away,  rendered  their  loss 
irreparable. 

Apply  tiiis  tliought  to  the  various  means, 
which  Providence  affords  for  your  conversion; 
and  think  what  effect  it  must  produce  on  your 
preachers.  It  suspends  our  judgment,  and  ties 
our  hands,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  the  exercise  of 
our  ministry.  We  are  animated  at  the  sight  of 
the  blessing  which  tiie  gospel  brings;  but,  when 
we  contemplate  the  awful  consequences  on 
those  who  resist,  we  are  astonished  and  appalled. 
Must  we  wilfully  exclude  the  light'  What 
effects  have  the  efforts  of  Providence  produced 
upon  you?  What  account  can  you  give  of  tlie 
numerous  privileges  with  wiiich  Heaven  has 
favoured  you?  Think  not  that  we  take  pleasure 
in  declamations,  and  in  drawing  frightful  por- 
traits of  your  conduct.  Would  to  God  that  our 
preaching  were  so  received,  and  so  improved, 
as  to  change  our  censures  into  applause,  and  all 
our  strictures  into  approbation.  But  charity  is 
never  opposed  to  experience.  So  many  ex- 
hortations, so  many  entreaties,  so  many  affec- 
tionate warnings,  so  many  pathetic  sermons,  so 
many  instructions,  so  many  conflicts  to  save  you 
from  vice,  leave  the  proud  in  his  pride,  the  im- 
placable in  his  hatred,  the  fashionable  woman 
in  full  conformity  to  tiie  world,  and  every  other 
in  his  predominating  sin.  Wiiat  line  of  conduct 
shall  we  consequently  adopt'  Shall  we  con- 
tinue to  enforce  the  truth,  to  press  the  duties  of 
morality;  and  to  trace  the  road  of  salvation,  in 


overturn  these  pulpits?  Must  we  exile  these 
pastors?  And  making  that  the  object  of  our 
prayer,  which  ouglit  to  be  our  justest  cause  of 
fear,  must  we  say,  Lord,  take  away  thy  word; 
take  away  thy  Spirit;  and  remove  thy  candle- 
stick; lest,  receiving  too  largo  a  portion  of  grace, 
we  sliould  augment  the  account  we  have  to 
give,  and  render  our  punishment  more  intole- 
raiile. 

But  why  abandon  the  soul  to  so  tragical  a 
thought?  Lord,  continue  with  us  these  precious 
pledges  "  of  thy  loving-kindness,  which  is  bet- 
ter than  life,"  and  give  us  a  new  heart  It  is 
true,  my  brethren,  a  thousand  objects  indicate, 
tiial  you  will  persist  in  impiety.  But  I  know 
not  what  sentiment  flatters  us,  that  you  are 
about  to  renounce  it.  These  were  St.  Paul's 
sentiments  concerning  the  Hebrews:  he  saw  the 
efforts  of  tiie  world  to  draw  them  from  the  faith, 
and  the  almost  certain  fail  of  some;  in  tiie  mean 
time  he  hoped,  and  by  an  argument  of  charity, 
that  the  equity  of  God  would  be  interested  to 
prevent  their  fall.  He  hoped  farther;  he  hoped 
to  see  an  event  of  consolation.  Hence  he 
opened  to  the  Hebrews  the  paths  of  tribulation 
in  wiiich  they  walked  with  courage.  He  called 
to  their  remembrance  so  many  temptations  re- 
futed, so  many  enemies  confounded,  so  manv 
conflicts  sustained,  so  many  victories  obtained, 
so  many  trophies  of  glory  already  prepared;  and 
proposing  himself  for  a  model,  he  animated 
them  by  the  idea  of  what  tiiey  had  already 
achieved,  and  by  what  tliey  had  yet  to  do. 
"  Call  to  remembrance,"  says  he,  "  the  former 
days,  in  which  ye  endured  so  great  a  fight  of 
afflictions,  partly  whilst  you  were  made  a  ga- 
zing-stock,  bolli  by  reproaches  and  afflictions, 
and  partly  wliilst  ye  became  companions  of 
them  tliat  were  so  used.  Cast  not  away,  there- 
fore, your  confidence,  which  hath  great  recom- 
pense of  reward,"  Heb.  x.  32,  33.  35.  We  ad- 
dress the  like  exhortation  to  each  of  our  hearers. 
We  remind  you  of  whatever  is  most  to  be  ad- 
mired in  your  life,  though  weak  and  imperfect, 
the  communions  you  have  celebrated,  the  pray- 
ers you  have  offered  to  Heaven,  the  tears  of 
repentance  already  shed. 

And  you,  my  brethren,  my  dear  brethren, 
and  honoured  countrymen,  I  call  to  your  recol- 
lection, as  St.  Paul  to  tiie  Hebrews,  the  earth 
strewed  with  the  bodies  of  your  martyrs,  and 
stained  witli  your  blood; — the  desert  populated 
with  your  fugitives; — the  places  of  your  nativity 
desolated; — your  tenderest  ties  dissolved; — your 
prisoners  in  chains,  and  confessors  in  irons; — 
your  houses  rased  to  the  foundation;  and  the 
precious  remains  of  your  shipwreck  scattered  on 
all  tlie  sliores  of  Christendom.  Oh!  "  Let  us 
not  cast  away  our  confidence,  which  hath  great 
recompense  of  reward."  Let  not  so  many  con- 
flicts be  lost;  let  us  never  forsake  this  Jesus  to 
whom  we  are  devoted;  but  let  us  daily  augment 
the  ties  wiiich  attach  us  to  his  communion. 

If  these  are  your  sentiments,  fear  neither  the 
terrors  nor  anathemas  of  the  Scriptures.  As 
texts  the  most  consolatory  have  an  awful  aspect 
to  them  who  abuse  their  privileges,  so  passages 
the  most  terrific,  have  a  pleasing  aspect  to  those 


which  you  refuse  to  walk?  We  have  already  I  who  obey  the  calls  of  grace.  The  words  we 
said,  that  these  privileges  will  augment  your  '  have  explained  are  of  this  kind;  for  the  apostle 
loss,  and  redouble  the  weight  of  your  chains,  speaking  of  a  certain  class  of  sinners,  wlio  can 
Must  we  shut  up  these  churches?    Must  we  I  not  be  "  renewed  again  unto  repentance,"  ini' 


834 


ON  THE  SORROW  FOR  THE  DEATH  OF 


[Ser.  XC 


plies  tlicreby,  that  all  other  sinners,  of  what- 
soever kind,  may  be  renewed.    Let  us  therefore 
repent.     Let  us  break  these  hearts.     Let  us 
soften  these  stones.    Let  us  cause  floods  of  tears 
to  issue  from  the  dry  and  barren  rocks.     And 
aAer  we  have  passed  tlirough  the  horrors  of  re- 
pentance, let  our  hearts  rrjoice  in  our  salvation. 
Let  us  banish  all  di^i(•ouraging  fears.     Let  us 
pay  tiie  homage  of  confidence  to  a  merciful  God, 
never  confounding   repentance  with   despair. 
Repentance   honours  the   Deity;   despair   de- 
grades hrni.     Repentance  adores  his  goodness; 
despair  suppresses  one  of  his  brightest  beams  of 
glory.      Repentance  follows   the  examj)le  of 
saints;  despair  confounds  tlie  human  kind  with 
demons.     Repentance  ascribes  to  the  blood  of 
the  Redeemer  of  the  world  its  real  worth;  de- 
spair accounts  it  "an  unlioly  thing."     Let  us 
enter  into   these  reflections;    let   this  day  be 
equally  the  triumph  of  repentance  over  the  hor- 
rors of  sin,  and  the  triumpii  of  grace  over  the 
anguish  of  repentance.   God  grant  us  this  grace; 
to  him,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  be  honour 
and  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  XC. 


ON  THE  SORROW  FOR  THE  DEATH 
OF  RELATIVES  AND  FRIENDS. 


1  Thess.  iv.  13—18. 
Bui  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren, 
concerning  them  which  are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrmu 
not  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope.  For  if 
we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even 
so  them  also  xrhich  sleep  in  Jesus  icill  God  bring 
with  him.  For  this  we  say  unto  you  by  the 
wirrd  of  the  Lord,  that  we  which  are  alive,  and 
remain  unto  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  shall  not 
prevent  them  which  are  asleep.  For  the  Lord 
himself  shall  descend  from  heaven  tcith  a  shmtt, 
with  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with  the 
trump  of  God:  and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise 
first:  then  ice  which  are  alive  and  remain,  shall 
be  caught  up  together  loith  them  in  the  cloudt, 
to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air:  and  so  shall  ice  ever 
he  with  the  Lord.  Wlierefore,  comfort  one  ano- 
ther with  these  toords. 

The  text  we  have  now  read,  may,  perhaps, 
bo  contemplated  under  two  very  different  points 
of  view.  The  interpreter  must  here  discover 
his  acumen,  and  the  preacher  dis[)lay  his  pow- 
ers. It  is  a  difficult  text;  it  is  one  of  the  most 
difficult  in  all  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul.  I  have 
strong  reasons  for  believing,  that  it  is  one  of 
those  St.  Peter  had  in  view,  when  he  says, 
"  that  there  are  some  things  in  tlie  writings  of 
St.  Paul,  hard  to  bo  understood,  which  they 
that  are  unlearned  wrest — to  their  own  destruc- 
tion," 2  Pet.  iii.  16.  In  this  respect  it  requires 
the  erudition  of  the  inter])reter:  It  is  a  text  fer- 
tile in  instructions  for  our  conduct:  it  illustrates 
the  seiilinionts  with  which  we  should  be  inspired 
in  all  the  afflictive  circumstances  through  which 
Providence  may  call  us  to  pass  in  this  valley  of 
misery,  I  would  say,  when  called  to  part  with 
those  who  constitute  the  joy  of  our  life.  In  this 
respect  it  requires  the  elotiucnce  of  the  preacher. 
In  attending  to  both  those  points,  bring  the  dis- 
positions without  which  you  caimot  derive  the 


advantages  we  design.  Have  patience  with  the 
interpreter,  though  he  may  not  be  able  fully  to 
elucidate  every  inquiry  you  may  make  on  a  sub- 
ject obscure,  singular,  and  in  some  respects  im- 
penetrable. Open  also  the  avenues  of  your 
heart  to  the  preacher.  Learn  to  support  sepa- 
rations; for  which  you  should  congratulate  your- 
selves, when  they  break  the  ties  which  united 
you  to  persons  imworthy  of  your  love;  and 
which  shall  not  be  eternal,  if  those  called  away 
by  death  were  the  true  children  of  God.  May 
tiie  anguish  of  the  tears  shed  for  their  loss,  be 
assuaged  by  the  hope  of  meeting  them  in  the 
same  glory. 

We  have  said  tliat  this  text  is  difllcult;  and 
it  is  really  so  in  four  respects.     The  first  arises 
from  the  doubtful  import  of  s-ome  of  the  terms 
in  which  it  is  couched.     The  second  arises  from 
its  reference  to  certain  notions  peculiar  to  Chris- 
tians in  the  apostolic  age,  and  which  to  as  are 
imperfectly  known.     The  third  is,  that  it  re- 
volves on  certain  mysteries,  in  regard  of  which 
the  Scriptures  are  not  very  explicit,  and  of 
which  inspired  men  had  but  an  imperfect  know- 
ledge.     The  fourth  is   the  dangerous  conse- 
quences it  seems  to  involve;  because  by  restrict- 
ing the  knowledge  of  the  sncred  authors,  it 
seems  to  level  a  blow  at  tlieir  inspiration.    Here 
is  an  epitome  of  all  the  difficulties  which  car» 
contribute  to  encumber  a  text  with  difliculties. 
I.  The  first  is  the  least  important,  and  cannot 
arrest  the  attention  of  any,  but  those  who  are 
less  conversant  than  you,  with  the  Scriptures. 
You  have  comprehended,  I  am  confident,  that 
by  those  who  sleep,  we  understand  those  who 
arc  dead;  and  by  those  who  sleep  in  the  Lord, 
we  understand  those  in  general  who  have  died 
in  the  faith,  or  in  particular  those  who  have 
sealed  it  by  martyrdom.     The  .sacred  authors 
in  ado])ting,  have  sanctified  the  style  of  pagan- 
ism.    The  most  ordinary  shield  the  pagans  op- 
posed to  the  fear  of  death,  was  to  banish  the 
tiiought,  and  to  avoid  pronouncing  its  name. 
Butas  it  is  not  possible  to  live  on  earth  without 
being  obliged  to  talk  of  dying,  they  accommo- 
dated their  necessity  to  their  delicacy,  and  pa- 
raphrased what  they  had  so  great  a  reluctance 
to  name  by  the  softer  terms  of  a  departure,  a 
submission,    destiny,    and    a    sleep. — Fools!    as 
though  to  change  the  name  of  a  revolting  ob- 
ject would  diminish  its  horror.    The  sacred  au- 
thors, as  1  have  said,  in  adopting  this  style,  have 
sanctified  it.     They  have  called  death  a  sleep, 
by  which  they  understand  a  repose:  "  Blessed 
are  the  dead  which  die   in  the  Lord;  for  they 
rest  from  their   labours,"    Rev.  xiv.   13.     In 
adopting  the  term,  they  had  a  special  regard  to 
the  resurrection   which   shall   follow.     If  the 
terms  require  farther  illustration,  they  shall  bo 
incorporated   in  wliat  we  shall  say  when  dis- 
cussing the  subjects. 

II.  We  have  said,  that  this  text  is  difficult, 
because  it  refers  to  certain  notions  peculiar  to 
Christians  in  the  apostolic  ajre,  which  to  us  are 
iin[)erlectly  known.  The  allusion  of  ancient 
autliors  to  the  peculiar  notions  of  their  time, 
is  a  principal  cause  of  the  obscurity  of  their 
writings;  it  embarrasses  the  critics,  and  often 
obliges  them  to  confess  their  inadecpiacy  to  the 
task.  It  is  astonishing  that  the  public  should 
refuse  to  interpreters  of  the  sacred  books,  the 
liberty  they  so  freely  grant  to  those  of  profane 


Seh.  XC.} 


RELATIVES  AND  FRIENDS. 


335 


authors.  Why  sliould  a  species  of  obscurity, 
whicli  has  never  degraded  Plato,  or  Seneca,  in- 
duce us  todcirrade  St.  Paul,  and  utiier  iiis])ired 
meiL'  But  how  extraordinary  soever,  in  tills 
respect,  the  conduct  of  the  enemies  of  our  sacred 
books  may  be,  it  is  not  at  all  astonisliiiifj;  but 
there  is  cause  to  bo  astonisiied  at  those  divines 
who  would  bo  frequently  relieved  by  the  solu- 
tion of  which  we  speak,  that  they  should  lose 
siijht  of  it  in  their  systems,  and  so  often  seek 
for  theological  mysteries  in  expressions  which 
simply  require  the  illustration  of  judicious  cri- 
ticism. On  how  many  allusions  of  the  class  in 
question,  have  not  doctrines  of  faith  been  esta- 
blished? "Let  him  who  rcadeth  understand." 
We  will  not  disturb  the  controversy. 

We  have  said  that  there  is  in  the  words  of 
the  te.xt,  i)robably  some  allusion  to  notions  pe- 
culiar fo  the  apostolic  age.  St.  Paul  not  oidy 
designed  to  assuage  the  anguish  excited  in  tlie 
breast  of  ])ersons  of  fme  feelings  by  the  death 
of  their  friends;  he  seems  to  have  had  a  pecu- 
liar reference  to  the  Thessalonians.  The  proof 
we  have  of  this  is,  that  the  apostle  not  merely 
enforces  the  general  arguments  that  Chris- 
tianity afl'ords  to  all  good  men  in  those  aillic- 
live  situations,  such  as  the  happiness  which  in- 
stantly follows  the  death  of  saints,  and  the 
certainty  of  a  glorious  resurrection:  he  super- 
adds a  motive  wholly  of  another  kind;  this 
motive,  which  wo  shall  now  explain,  is  thusex- 
jjressed:  "  We  which  are  alive  and  remain  at 
the  coming  of  the  Lord,  shall  not  prevent  them 
which  are  asleep,"  &.c. 

What  might  there  be  in  the  opinion,  pecu- 
liar to  the  Ciiristians  of  tliat  age,  which  could 
thereby  assuage  their  anguish?  Among  the 
conjectures  it  has  excited,  this  appears  to  me 
the  most  rational; — it  was  a  sentiment  gene- 
rally received  in  the  apostolic  age,  and  from 
which  we  caimot  say  that  the  apostles  them- 
selves were  wholly  free,  that  the  last  day  was 
just  at  hand.  Two  considerations  might  have 
contributed  to  estai)lish  tliis  o|)inion. 

The  ancient  Rabbins  had  allirmed,  that  the 
second  temjjle  would  not  long  subsist  after  the 
■•idvent  of  the  Messiah;  and  believing  that  the 
Levitical  worship  should  be  coeval  with  the 
world,  they  believed  likewise  that  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead,  and  the  consummation 
of  the  ages,  would  speedily  follow  the  coming 
of  Christ.  Do  not  ask  how  they  reconciled 
tliose  notions  with  the  expectation  of  the  Mes 


cerning  which  St.  Paul  has  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist,  "That  their  somid  went  forth  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth:"  these  ideas  had  persuaded 
many  of  the  primitive  Christians,  that  the 
coming  of  the  Messiah,  the  destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem, and  the  end  of  the  world,  must  follow 
one  another  in  speedy  succession;  and,  the 
more  so,  as  the  Lord  had  subjoined  to  those 
I)redictions,  that  "  this  generation  should  not 
pass  away  until  all  these  things  be  fulfilled;" 
that  is,  the  men  then  alive.  This  text  is  of  the 
same  import  with  that  in  the  xvith  of  St.  Mat- 
thew: "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  there  be  some 
standing  here  which  shall  not  taste  of  death 
till  they  see  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  his 
kingdom,"  ver.  28. 

These  are  the  consideratiorre  which  induced 
many  of  the  first  Christians  to  believe  that  the 
last  day  would  soon  come.  And  as  the  Lord, 
the  more  strikingly  to  represent  the  surprise 
that  the  last  day  would  excite  in  men,  had 
compared  it  to  the  ap|)roach  of  a  thief  at  mid- 
night, the  primitive  Christiana  really  thought 
that  Jesus  (Christ  would  come  at  midnight; 
hence  some  of  them  rose  at  that  hour  to  await 
his  coming,  and  St.  Jerome  relates  a  custom, 
founded  on  apostolic  tradition,  of  never  dis- 
missing the  people  before  midnight  during  the 
vigils  of  Easter. 

Rut  what  should  especially  be  remarked  for 
illustration  ol  the  difficulty  proposed,  is,  that 
the  idea  of  the  near  approach  of  Christ's  ad- 
vent, was  so  very  far  from  exciting  terror  in 
the  minds  of  the  primitive  Christians,  that  it 
constituted  the  object  of  their  hope.  They  re- 
gard it  as  the  highest  privilege  of  a  Christian 
to  behold  his  advent.  The  hope  of  this  happi- 
ness had  inflamed  some  with  an  ardour  for 
martyrdom;  and  induced  to  deplore  the  lot  of 
those  who  had  died  before  that  happy  period. 
This  is  the  anguish  the  apostle  would  as- 
suage when  he  says,  "  I  would  not  have  you 
ignorant,  bretliren,  concerning  them  that  are 
asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  as  others;"  that  is, 
as  the  heathens,  who  have  no  hope. 

III.  But  tiie  consolation  he  gives,  to  comfort 
the  afflicted,  constitutes  one  of  the  difficulties 
in  my  text,  because  it  is  founded  on  a  doctrine 
concerning  which  the  Scriptures  are  not  very 
explicit,  and  of  which  inspired  men  had  but 
imperfect  knowledge.  Tliis  is  the  third  point 
to  be  illustrated. 

The  consolation  St.  Paul  gave  the  Thessa- 


siah's  temporal  kingdom;    we  know  that  the    lonians,  must  be  explained  in  a  way  assortablo 


Rabbinical  systems  are  but  little  connected; 
and  inconsistency  is  not  j)eculiar  to  them. 

But  secondly;  the  manner  in  whicii  Jesus 
Chrit^t  had  Ibretold  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem, might  have  contributed  to  persuade  the 
(list  Ciiri.stians,  tiiat  the  last  day  was  near.  He 
had  re|Hes('utcd  it  in  tiie  proi)hctic  style,  as  a 
universal  distiolution  of  nature,  and  of  the  ele- 
ments, in  that  day  "  the  sun  sjuill  be  darken- 
ed; tlie  moon  shall  be  turned  to  blood;  the 
stars  shall  full  from  heaven;  the  powers  of  hea- 
ven shall  be  shaken;  and  the  Son  of  man  him- 
self as  coming  on  the  clouds,  and  sending  his 
angels  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  to  gather 
together  his  elect  from  the  four  winds,"  Matt, 
xxiv.  -9.  31.  These  oriental  figures,  whereby 
ho  painted  the  extirpation  of  llie  Jewish  na 


to  their  affliction,  and  drawn  from  the  reasons 
that  induced  them  to  regret  the  death  of  the 
martyrs,  as  being  deprived  of  the  happiness 
those  would  have  who  shall  be  alive,  when 
Christ  should  descend  from  heaven  to  judge 
the  world.  St.  Paul  rejilies,  that  those  who 
should  then  survive,  would  not  have  any  pre- 
rogative over  those  that  slept,  and  that  both 
should  enjoy  the  same  glory:  this,  in  substance, 
is  the  sense  of  the  words  which  constitute  the 
third  difficulty  we  would  wish  to  remove. 
"  This  wo  say  unto  you,  by  the  word  of  the 
Lord,  that  wo  which  are  alive  and  remain  unto 
the  coming  of  the  Lord,  shall  not  prevent 
them  which  are  asleep.  For  the  Lord  himself 
shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout,  with 
the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with  the  trump 


tiou,  and  Uic  preaching  of  tho  apostles,  cou-  |  of  God:,  and  the  dead  iu  Christ  shall  rise  first: 


ON  THE  SORROW  FOR  THE  DEATH  OF 


[Ser.  XC. 


then  we  which  are  alive  and  remain,  shall  be 
caught  up  together  with  them  in  the  clouds, 
to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air;  and  so  shall  we 
ever  be  with  the  I.iOrd."  Concerning  these 
words  various  questions  arise,  which  require 
illustration. 

1.  What  did  St.  Paul  mean  when  he  affirm- 
ed, that  what  he  said  was  by  the  word  of  the 
Lord.'  You  will  understand  it  by  comparing 
the  expression  with  those  of  the  first  epistle  to 
the  Corinthians,  chap.  xv.  61,  where,  discuss- 
ing the  same  subject,  he  speaks  tlius:  "  Behold 
I  show  you  a  mystery;  we  shall  not  all  sleep, 
but  we  shall  be  changed."  These  words,  "  Be- 
hold I  show  you  a  mystery,"  and  those  of  my 
text,  are  of  the  same  import.  Properly  to  un- 
derstand them,  let  it  be  observed,  that  besides 
the  gift  of  inspiration,  by  which  the  sacred  au- 
thors knew  and  taught  the  things  essential  to 
salvation,  there  was  one  peculiar  to  some  pri- 
vileged Christians;  it  was  a  power  to  penetrate 
certain  secrets,  without  which  they  might  be 
saved,  but  which,  nevertheless,  was  a  glorious 
endowment  wherever  conferred.  Probably  St. 
Paul  spake  of  this  privilege,  when  enumerat- 
ing the  gifts  communicated  to  the  primitive 
church,  in  the  xiith  chapter  of  the  above  epis- 
tle. "  To  one,"  he  says,  "  is  given  by  the  same 
Spirit,  the  word  of  knowledge."  This  word 
of  knowledge,  he  distinguishes  from  another, 
called  just  before,  "The  word  of  wisdom." 
The  like  distinctions  occur  chap,  xiiith  and 
xivth,  in  the  same  epistle.  Learned  men,  who 
think  that  by  the  word  of  wisdom,  we  must 
understand  inspiration,  think  also,  that  by 
"  the  word  of  knowledge,"  we  must  under- 
stand an  acquaintance  witli  tlie  mysteries  of 
which  I  have  spoken.  Many  mysteries  are 
mentioned  in  the  sacred  writings.  The  mys- 
tery of  the  restoration  of  the  Jews;  the  mys- 
tery of  iniquity;  and  the  mystery  of  the  beast. 
The  passages  to  which  I  allude  are  known  to 
you,  and  time  docs  not  allow  me  to  enlarge, 
nor  even  a  full  recital. 

2.  Why  does  St.  Paul,  when  speaking  of 
those  who  shall  be  found  on  earth  when  Christ 
shall  descend  from  heaven,  add,  "  We  which 
are  alive,  and  remain  at  the  coming  of  the 
Lord?"  Did  he  flatter  himself  to  be  of  that 
number?  Some  critics  have  thought  so:  and 
when  pressed  by  those  words  in  the  second 
Epistle  to  Timothy,  "  Tlie  time  of  my  depar- 
ture is  at  hand;  1  am  ready  to  be  offered  up;" 
they  have  replied,  that  St.  Paul  had  changed 
his  ideas,  and  divested  himself  of  the  illusive 
hope  that  he  should  never  die! 


Lord  Jesus,  shall  raise  up  ub  also,"  chap.  iv. 
14.  But  in  my  text  he  seems  to  associate  him- 
self in  the  class  of  those  who  shall  not  be  rais- 
ed, being  alive  when  Christ  shall  descend  from 
heaven;  "  we  that  are  alive,  and  remain  at  the 
coming  of  the  Lord."  Emphasis,  then,  should 
not  be  laid  on  the  pronoun  tee,  it  signifies,  in 
general,  those  who;  and  it  ought  to  be  explain- 
ed, not  by  its  general  import,  but  by  the  nature 
of  the  things  to  which  it  is  applied,  which  do 
not  suffer  us  to  believe,  that  the  apostle  here 
meant  to  designate  himself,  as  I  think  is  proved. 
3.  In  what  respects  does  St.  Paul  prove,  that 
those  who  die  before  the  advent  of  the  Son  of 
God,  shall  not  thereby  retard  their  happiness; 
and  that  those  who  shall  tlien  survive,  shall 
not  enjoy  earlier  than  they  the  happiness  with 
which  the  Saviour  shall  invest  them? 

The  apostle  proves  it  from  the  supremacy  of 
Christ  at  the  consummation  of  the  age.  The 
instant  he  shall  descend  from  heaven,  he  shall 
awake  the  dead  by  his  mighty  voice.  The  bo- 
dies of  the  saints  shall  rise,  and  the  bodies  of 
those  that  are  alive  shall  be  purified  from  their 
natural  encumbrance,  according  to  the  asser- 
tion of  St.  Paul,  already  adduced;  "  we  shall 
not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  be  changed."  And 
it  must  also  be  remarked,  that  this  change,  he 
adds,  shall  be  made  "  in  a  moment,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye;"  that  is,  immediately  on 
the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ:  and  after  this 
change,  the  saints  who  shall  rise,  and  those 
who  shall  be  yet  alive,  shall  be  caught  up  to- 
gether to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air,  and  shall  be 
for  ever  with  the  Lord.  The  survivors,  there- 
fore, shall  have  no  prerogative  over  others;  so 
is  the  sense  of  the  text:  "We  which  are  alive 
and  remain  at  the  coming  of  the  Lord  shall 
not  prevent  them  which  are  asleep.  For  the 
Lord  sliall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout," 
like  that  of  sailors  to  excite  to  unity  of  labour, 
as  is  implied  by  the  Greek  term,  "  with  the 
voice  of  the  archangel,  and  the  trumpet  of 
God;"  I  would  say,  with  tlie  most  vehement 
shout;  for  in  the  sacred  style,  a  thing  angelic, 
angelical,  or  divine,  is  a  thing  which  excels  in 
its  kind:  "The  Lord  shall  descend,  and  the 
dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first.  Then  we  who 
are  alive  and  remain,  shall  be  caught  up  toge- 
ther with  them  in  the  clouds." 

But  this  is  a  very  extraordinary  kind  of  con- 
solation: St.  Paul  still  left  the  Thessalonians 
in  their  old  mistake,  that  some  of  them  should 
still  live  to  see  the  last  day;  why  did  he  not 
undeceive  them?  Why  did  he  not  say,  to  con- 
sole tiiem  in  their  trouble,  that  tlie  consumma- 


But  how  many  arguments  might  I  not  adduce    tion  of  the  ages  was,  as  yet,  a  very  di.stant  pe 


to  refute  this  error,  if  it  required  refutation, 
and  did  not  refute  itselP  How  should  St.  Paul, 
who  had  not  only  the  gift  of  inspiration,  but 
who  declared  tliat  what  he  said  was  by  the 
word  of  the  Lord,  or  according  to  his  miracu- 
lous gift,  fall  into  so  great  a  mistake  in  speak- 
ing on  this  subject'  How  do  they  reconcile 
this  presumption  witii  what  he  says  of  the  re- 
surrection in  his  epistles,  written  prior  to  this, 
from  which  we  liave  taken  our  text'  Not  to 
multiply  arguments,  there  are  some  texts  in 
which  St.  Paul  seems  to  class  himself  with 
those  who  shall  rise,  seeing  he  says  "  we."  Let 
UB  ne.xt  attend  to  that  in  the  second  Epistle 
to  the  Corinthians:  God,  "who  raised  up  the 


riod;  and  that  the  living  and  the  dead  should 
rise  on  the  same  day!  This  is  the  fourth,  and 
most  considerable  difficulty  in  the  words  of  my 
text. 

IV.  The  apostles  seem  to  have  been  igno- 
rant whether  the  end  of  the  world  should  hap- 
pen in  their  time,  or  whether  it  should  be  at 
the  distance  of  many  ages;  and  it  seems  that 
by  so  closely  circumscribing  the  knowledge  of 
inspired  men,  we  derogate  from  their  claims 
of  inspiration. — A  whole  dissertation  would 
scarcely  suffice  to  remove  this  difficulty;  1 
shall  content  myself  with  opening  the  sources 
of  its  solution. 

1.  Ignorance  of  one  truth  is  unconnected 


Ser.  XC] 


RELATIVES  AND  FRIENDS. 


837 


witli  the  revelation  of  another  truth;  I  would 
say,  it  does  not  follow  that  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
not  revealed  certain  things  to  sacred  autiiors, 
because  he  has  not  revealed  them  to  other». 
We  are  assured  he  did  not  acquaint  tiiein  with 
the  epoch  of  liie  consummation  of  the  ajjcs. 
This  epoch  was  not  only  concealed  from  the 
apostles,  but  also  from  Jesus  Christ  considered 
as  a  man;  hence  when  speaking  of  the  last  day, 
he  said,  tiiat  neither  the  angels  in  heaven,  nor 
even  the  Son  of  man,  knew  when  it  should 
occur;  the  secret  being  reserved  with  God 
alone,  Mark  xiii.  S2. 

2.  Though  the  apostles  might  be  ignorant 
of  the  final  period  of  the  world,  thougli  they 
might  have  left  the  C'iiristiaiis  of  their  own  age 
in  the  presumption  that  they  might  survive  to 
the  end  of  the  world,  the  point  however  they 
have  left  undetermined.  The  texts  which  seem 
repugnant  to  what  I  say,  regard  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem,  and  not  the  day  of  judgment; 
but  it  is  not  possible  to  examine  them  here  in 
support  of  what  I  assert. 

3.  But  though  the  apostles  were  ignorant 
of  the  final  period  of  the  world,  they  were  con- 
fident, however,  that  it  should  not  come  till 
the  prophecies,  respecting  the  destiny  of  tiie 
church,  were  accomplished.  This  is  suggested 
by  St.  Paul  in  his  second  Epistle  to  t!ie  Thes- 
salonians:  "  Now,  we  beseecii  you,  brethren, 
by  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
by  our  gathering  together  unto  him,  that  ye 
be  not  soon  shaken  in  your  mind,"  or  troubled, 
"neither  by  spirit,  nor  by  word,  nor  by  letter, 
as  from  us,  as  though  the  day  of  Christ  was  at 
hand.  Let  no  man  deceive  you  in  any  way 
whatever;  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  shall  not 
come  until  the  revolt  shall  have  previously 
happened,  and  till  that  man  of  sin,  the  son  of 
perdition,  shall  be  revealed,"  chap.  ii. 

4.  In  fine,  the  apostles  leaving  the  question 
undecided  respecting  the  final  period  of  the 
world;  a  question  not  essential  to  salvation, 
have  determined  the  points  of  which  we  can- 
not be  ignorant  in  order  to  be  saved;  I  would 
say,  the  manner  in  which  men  should  live  to 
whom  this  period  was  unknown.  They  have 
drawn  conclusions  the  most  just  and  certain 
from  the  uncertainty  in  which  those  Christians 
were  placed.  They  have  inferred,  that  the 
church  being  ignorant  of  tiie  day  in  which 
Christ  shall  come  to  judge  the  world,  should 
be  always  ready  for  that  event.  But  brevity 
obliges  me  to  suppress  the  texts  whence  the 
inferences  are  deduced. 

II.  Having  sufficiently  discharged  the  duties 
of  the  critic,  1  proceed  to  those  of  the  preacher. 
Taking  the  words  of  St.  Paul  in  all  their  ex- 
tent, we  see  the  sentiments  with  which  we 
should  be  animated  when  called  to  survive  our 
dearest  friends,  which  we  shall  now  discuss. 

St.  Paul  does  not  condemn  all  sorts  of  sor- 
row occasioned  by  the  loss  of  those  we  love;  he 
requires  only  that  Christians  should  not  be  in- 
consolable in  these  circumstances,  as  those  wiio 
have  no  hope.  Hence,  there  is  both  a  criminal 
and  an  innocent  sorrow.  The  criminal  sorrow 
is  that  which  confounds  us  witli  those  who  are 
destitute  of  hope;  but  the  innocent  sorrow  is 
compatible  with  the  Christian  hope.  On  these 
points  we  shall  enter  into  some  detail. 

First,  The  sorrow  occoâioued  to  us  by  the 
Vol.  II.— 43 


death  of  those  we  lovef,  confounds  us  with  those 
that  have  no  ho|)e,  when  it  proceeds  from  a 
principle  of  distrust.  Such  is  sometimes  our 
situation  on  earth,  that  all  our  good  devolves 
on  a  single  point.  A  house  rises  to  afiluence; 
it  acquires  a  rank  in  life;  it  is  distinguished  by 
equipage;  and  all  its  elevation  proceeds  from  a 
single  head:  this  head  is  the  mover  of  all  its 
springs:  he  is  the  protector,  the  father,  and 
friend  of  all:  this  head  is  cut  down:  this  fatlier, 
protector,  and  friend,  expires;  and  by  that  single 
stroke,  all  our  honours,  rank,  pleasures,  afilu- 
ence, and  enjoyments  of  life,  seem  to  descend 
with  him  to  the  tomb.  At  this  stroke  nature 
groans,  the  flesh  murmurs,  and  faith  also  is 
obscured;  the  soul  is  wholly  absolved  in  its  ca- 
lamities, and  conlemplatinff  its  own  loss  in  that 
of  others,  concentrates  itself  in  anguish.  Hence 
those  impetuous  passions;  hence  these  mourn- 
ful and  piercing  cries;  hence  those  Rachels, 
who  will  not  be  con)forted  because  their  chil- 
dren are  no  more.  Hence  those  extravagant 
portraits  of  past  happiness,  those  exaggerations 
of  present  evils,  and  those  gloomy  augurs  of 
the  future.  Hence  those  furious  bowlings, 
and  frightful  distortions,  in  the  midst  of  which 
it  would  seem  that  we  were  called  rather  as 
exorcists  to  the  possessed,  than  to  administer 
balm  to  afflicted  minds. 

It  is  not  iifl'icult  to  vindicate  the  judgment 
we  have  formed  of  the  grief  proceeding  from 
this  principle.  When  the  privation  of  a  tem- 
poral good  casts  into  despair,  it  was  obviously 
the  object  of  our  love;  a  capital  crime  in  the 
eye  of  religion.  The  most  innocent  connex- 
ions of  life  cease  to  be  innocent  when  they 
become  too  strongly  cemented.  To  fix  one's 
heart  upon  an  object,  to  make  it  our  happiness 
and  the  object  of  our  hope,  is  to  constitute  it 
a  god;  is  to  place  it  on  tiie  throne  of  the  Su- 
preme, and  to  form  it  into  an  idol.  Whether 
it  be  a  father,  or  a  husband,  or  a  child,  which 
renders  us  idolaters,  idolatry  is  not  the  less  odi- 
ous in  the  eyes  of  God,  to  whom  supreme  de- 
votion is  due.  Religion  requires  tliat  our 
strongest  passion,  our  warmest  attachment, 
and  our  firmest  support,  should  ever  have  God 
for  their  object;  and  being  only  in  the  life  to 
come  lliat  we  shall  be  perfectly  joined  to  God, 
religion  prohibits  the  making  of  our  happiness 
to  consist  in  tlie  good  things  of  this  life.  And 
though  religion  should  not  dictate  a  duty  so 
just,  connnon  prudence  should  supply  its  place; 
it  should  induce  us  to  place  but  a  submissive 
attachment  on  objects  of  transient  good.  It 
should  say,  "  Let  those  that  have  wives  be  as 
though  tliey  have  none;  and  they  that  weep, 
as  though  they  wept  not;  and  they  that  rejoice, 
as  though  they  rejoiced  not;  and  they  that  use 
this  world,  as  though  they  used  it  not,  for  the 
fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away. — Put  not 
your  trust  in  princes,  nor  in  great  men,  in  whom 
there  is  no  help:  his  soul  goeth  forth,  he  return- 
eth  to  the  earth,  ajid  in  that  very  day  his  pur- 
poses perish,"  1  Cor.  vii.  29;  Ps.  cxlvi.  3,  4. 

Hence,  when  driven  to  despair  by  the  occur- 
rence of  awful  events,  we  have  cause  to  form 
a  humiliating  opinion  of  our  faith.  These 
strokes  of  God's  hand  are  the  tests  whereby  he 
tries  our  faith  in  the  crucible  of  tribulation,  ac- 
cording to  the  apostle's  idea,  1  Pcf.  i.  1. 
When  in  atfluence  and  prosperity,  it  is  difficult 


838 


ON  THE  yuUKOVV  FOil  THE  DEATH  OF 


[Ser.  XC. 


to  determine  whether  it  bo  love  for  tiie  gift, 
or  the  giver,  whicli  excites  our  devotion.  It 
is  in  the  midst  of  tribulation  tliat  we  can  recog- 
nise a  genuine  zeal,  and  a  conscious  piety. 
When  our  faitii  abandons  us  in  the  trying  liour, 
it  is  an  evident  proof  that  we  had  taken  a  chi- 
mera for  a  reahty,  and  tiie  sliadow  for  the  sub- 
stance. Submission  and  hope  are  the  ciiarac- 
teristics  of  a  Christian. 

Tlie  example  of  the  father  of  the  faithful 
here  occurs  to  our  view.     If  ever  a  mortal  had 
cause  to  fix  his  ho])es  on  any  object,  it  was  un- 
doubtedly this  patriarcli.     Lsaac  was  the  son 
of  the  promise;   Isaac  was  a  miracle  of  grace; 
Isaac  was  a  striking  figure  of  the  blessed  Seed, 
in  whom  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to  be 
blessed.     God  commanded  him  to  sacrifice  this 
son;  who  then  had  ever  stronger  reasons  to  be- 
lieve that  his  hopes  were  lost?     But  what  did 
Abraham  do?     He  submitted,  he  hoped.     He 
submitted;  he  left  liis  house;  he  took  his  son; 
he  prepared  tiie  altar;  he  bound  the  innocent 
victim;  he  raised  his  arm;  he  wasTeady  to  dip 
his  paternal  hands  in  blood,  and  to  ])lunge  the 
knife  into  the  bosom  of  this  dear  son.     But  in 
submitting,  he  hoped,  he  believed.     How  did 
he  hope.'     He  hoped  against  hope.     How  did 
he  believe.'     He  believed  what  was  incredible, 
rather  than  persuade  himself  that  his  fidelity 
would  be  fatal,  and  that  God  would  be  defi- 
cient in  his  promise;   he  believed  tiiat  God 
would  restore  his  son  by  a  miracle,  having 
given  him  by  a  miracle;  and  that  this  son,  the 
unparalleled  fruit  of  a  dead  body,  should  be 
raised   in  a   manner   unheard   of     Believers, 
here  is  your  father.     If  you  are  the  children 
of  Abraham,  do  the  works  of  Abraliam.     I  say 
again,  that  submission  and  hope  are  the  marks 
of  a  Christian.     "  In  the  mountains  of  tlic  Lord 
he  will  there  provide.     For  tlie  mountains  shall 
depart,  and  tiie  hills  be  removed;  yet  my  kind- 
ness shall  not  depart  from  thee;  neither  shall 
the  covenant  of  my  peace  bo  removed.     But 
Zion  .said.  The  Lord  hath  forsaken  me;  and 
my  Lord  hath  forgotten  inc.     Can  a  woman 
forget  her  sucking-child,  that  she  should  not 
have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb.'  Yea, 
they  may  forget,  yet  will  not  I  forsake  thee. 
When  my  father  and  mother  forsake  me,  the 
Lord  will  take  me  up.     Though  thou  slay  me, 
yet  will  I  trust  in  thee,"  Isa.  xlix.  14;  liv.  10; 
rs.  xxvii.  10;  Job  xiii.  15. 

IJ.  We  have  reprobated  the  afliiction  of 
which  despondency  is  the  principle.  A  man 
judges  of  the  happiness  of  others,  by  the  notion 
of  his  own  happincss;  and  estimating  life  as  the 
supreme  good,  he  regards  the  jierson  deprived 
of  it,  as  worthy  of  the  tendercst  compassion. 
Death  presents  itself  to  us  under  the  imago  of 
a  total  privation.  The  deceased  seems  to  us 
to  be  strip|)ed  of  every  comfort.  Had  he,  by 
pome  awful  catastrophe,  lost  his  fortune;  had 
he  lost  his  sight,  or  one  of  his  limbs,  we  should 
have  syni|)alhized  in  his  afihction;  with  how 
much  more  propriety  ought  we  to  weep,  when 
he  haa  been  deprived  of  all  those  comforts  at  a 
stroke,  and  faUiUy  sentenced  to  live  no  more? 
This  sorrow  is  appropriate  to  those  who  are 
destitute  of  hope.  Tiiis  is  indisputable,  when 
it  has  for  its  object  those  who  have  finished  a 
Cliristian  course;  and  it  is  on  these  occasions 
more  Ihau  any  other,  wu  are  obliged  to  conlcsd 


that  most  Christians  draw  improper  consequen- 
ces, and  act  in  a  manner  wholly  oi)posed  to 
the  faith  they  profess.  We  believe  the  soul  to 
bo  immortal;  we  arc  confident  at  the  moment 
of  a  hajtpy  dealli  that  the  soul  takes  its  flight 
to  heaven;  and  that  the  angels  who  are  en- 
camped around  it  for  protection  and  defence, 
carry  it  to  the  bosom  of  God.  We  have  seen 
the  living  languish  and  sigh,  and  reach  forth 
to  the  moment  of  their  deliverance;  and  when 
they  attain  to  this  moment,  we  class  them 
among  the  unhappy!  ^Vas  1  not  right  in  say- 
ing, that  there  are  no  occasions  on  which 
Christians  reason  worse  than  on  these,  and  act 
more  directly  opposite  to  the  faith  they  pro- 
fess? While  the  deceased  were  with  us  in  this 
valley  of  tears,  they  were  subject  to  many  com- 
plaints. While  running  a  race  so  arduous, 
they  complained  of  being  liable  to  stumble. 
They  complained  of  the  calamities  of  the 
church  in  which  they  were  entangled.  They 
complained  when  meditating  on  revelation  that 
they  found  impenetrable  mysteries;  and  when 
aspiring  at  jieriection,  they  saw  it  placed  in  so 
exalted  a  view,  as  to  be  but  imperfectly  attain- 
ed. But  now  they  are  alHicted  no  more;  now 
they  see  God  face  to  face;  now  they  "  are  come 
to  Mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of  the  living  God, 
to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  to  tlie  myriads  of 
angels,  to  the  assembly  of  the  first-born." 
Now,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  has  said,  "  Blessed 
are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord;  for  they 
rest  from  their  labours,  and  their  works  do  fol- 
low them,"  Heb.  xii.  22;  Ps.  xvi.  11;  Rev. 
xiv.  13. 

These  remarks  concern  those  only  who  die 
the  death  of  the  righteous:  but  should  not  piety 
iiKJiilge  her  tears,  when  we  see  tliose  die  im- 
l)enitent  to  whom  we  are  joined  by  the  ties  of 
nature;  and  shall  we  call  that  a  criminal  sor- 
row when  it  is  the  death  of  reprobates  which 
excite  our  grief?  Is  there  any  kind  of  comfort 
against  this  painful  thought,  that  my  son  is 
dead  in  an  unregenerate  state?  And  can  any 
sorrow  bo  immoderate  which  is  excited  by  the 
loss  of  a  soul?  This  is  the  question  we  were 
wisiiful  to  illustrate,  when  we  marked,  in  the 
third  place,  as  a  criminal  sorrow,  that  which 
proceeds  from  a  mistaken  piety. 

III.  Wo  answer  first,  that  nothing  is  more 
presumptive  than  to  decide  on  the  eternal  loss 
of  men;  and  that  we  must  not  limit  the  extent 
of  the  divine  mercy,  and  the  ways  of  Provi- 
dence. A  contrite  heart  may,  perhaps,  be  con- 
cealed under  the  exterior  of  rej)robation;  and 
the  religion  which  enjoins  us  to  live  in  holy 
fear  of  our  own  salvation,  ever  requires  that 
we  should  presume  charitably  concerning  the 
salvation  of  others. 

But  peo]ilo  are  urgent,  and  being  unable  to 
find  any  mitigation  in  a  doubtful  case,  against 
which  a  thousand  circumstances  seem  to  mili- 
tate, they  ask  whether  one  ought  to  moderate 
the  anguish  excited  by  the  eternal  loss  of  one 
tlicy  love?  The  question  is  but  too  necessary 
in  this  nnliap|>y  ago,  where  wo  see  so  great  a 
number  of  our  brethren  die  in  a])ostacy,  and  in 
which  the  lives  of  those  who  surround  us  afford 
so  just  a  ground  of  awful  apprehensions,  con- 
cerning their  salvation. 

1  confess  it  would  bo  unreasonable  to  censure 
tears  in  a  situation  uo  olllictivc;  I  coufcis  that 


Ser.  XC] 


RELATIVES  AND  FRIENDS. 


339 


one  has  need  of  an  extraordinary  confidence  to 
repress  excess,  and  tliat  an  ordinary  piety  is  in- 
ade<|uate  to  the  task.  I  contend,  however,  tliat 
religion  fori)ids,  oven  in  this  case,  to  sorrow 
above  measure.  Two  remarks  shall  make  it 
manifest;  and  we  entreat  tlioso  whom  God  has 
struck  in  this  sensible  manner,  to  impress  them 
def^ply  on  their  mind. 

1.  Our  grief  really  proceeds  from  a  carnal 
principle,  and  our  heart  disguises  itself  from  its 
own  judgment,  when  it  ap[iarently  suggests 
that  religion  is  the  cause.  If  it  were  simply 
the  idea  of  the  loss  of  the  soul;  if  it  were  a 
jirinciple  of  love  to  God,  and  if  it  were  not  the 
relations  of  father  and  son;  in  a  word,  if  the 
motives  were  altogether  sjiiritual,  and  the 
charity  wholly  pure,  whicli  excites  our  grief, 
whence  is  it  that  this  one  object  should  excite 
it,  whilcso  great  a  multitude  of  unhappy  men 
are  precisely  in  a  similar  case?  Whence  is  it 
that  we  SCO  daily,  without  anxiety,  whole  na- 
tions running  headlong  to  perdition?  Is  it  less 
dishonourable  to  God,  that  those  multitudes 
are  excluded  from  his  covenant,  than  because 
it  is  precisely  your  friend,  your  son,  or  your 
father? 

Our  second  remark  is,  that  the  love  we  have 
for  the  creature  should  always  conform  itself 
with  the  Creator.  We  ought  to  love  our  neigli- 
bours,  because  like  us  they  bear  tiie  image  of 
God,  and  they  are  called  with  us  to  the  same 
glory.  On  this  principle,  when  we  see  a  sinner 
wantonly  rush  on  the  precipice,  and  risking 
salvation  by  his  crimes,  our  charity  ought  to 
be  alarmed.     Thus  Jesus  Christ,  placing  him- 


But  if  there  bo  one  kind  of  sorrow  incompati- 
ble with  the  hope  of  a  Christian,  there  is  an- 
other which  is  altogether  congenial  to  it,  and 
insc[)aral)le  in  its  tics,  and  such  is  the  sorrow 
which  proceeds  from  one  of  the  following  prin- 
ci|)les: — from  sympathy; — from  the  dictates  of 
nature; — and  from  repentance.    'I'o  be  explicit: 

I.  We  have  said  first,  from  sympathy. 
Though  we  have  censured  the  sorrow  excited 
by  the  loss  of  our  dearest  fiiends,  we  did  not 
wish  to  impose  a  rigorous  apathy.  The  sorrow 
we  have  censured  is  that  excessive  grief,  in 
whicli  despondency  prevailing  over  religion  in- 
duces us  to  deplore  the  dead,  as  though  there 
wa.s  no  hope  after  this  life,  and  no  life  after 
death.  But  the  submissive  sorrow  by  whicli 
we  feel  our  loss,  without  shutting  our  eyes 
against  the  resources  afforded  by  I'rovidence; 
the  sorrow  which  weeps  at  the  suiferings  of  our 
friends  in  the  road  to  glory,  but  confident  of 
th(!ir  having  attained  it;  tliis  sorrow,  so  far  from 
being  culi)ablc,  is  an  inseparable  sentiment  of 
nature,  and  an  indispensable  duty  of  religion. 
Yes,  it  is  allowed  on  seeing  this  body,  this 
corpse,  the  precious  remains  of  a  part  of  our- 
selves, carried  away  by  a  funeral  procession,  it 
is  allowed  to  recall  tiie  tender  but  painful  re- 
collections of  the  intimacy  we  had  with  him 
whom  death  lias  snatciicd  away.  It  is  allowed 
to  recall  the  counsel  he  gave  us  in  our  embar- 
rassments; tiie  care  he  took  of  our  education; 
the  solicitude  he  took  for  our  welfare;  the  un- 
affected marks  of  love  which  appeared  during 
the  whole  of  his  life,  and  which  were  redoubled 
at  the  period  of  his  death.     It  is  allowed  to  re- 


self  in  the  period  in  which  grace  was  still  offer-  |  call  the  endearments  that  so  precious  an  inli- 


cd  to  Jerusalem,  and  in  which  she  niiglit  ac 
cept  it,  groaned  beneath  her  hardness,  and  de- 
plored the  abuse  she  made  of  his  entreaties; 
"  O  th.it  thou  hadst  known,  at  least  in  this  thy 
day,  the  things  that  belong  to  thy  peace," 
Luke  xix.  42.  But  when  a  man  becomes  the 
avowed  enemy  of  God,  when  a  protracted 
course  of  vice,  and  a  final  perseverance  in 
crimes,  convinces  that  he  has  no  part  in  his 
covenant,  then  our  love  should  return  to  its 
centre,  and  associate  itself  with  the  love  of  our 
Creator.  "  Henceforth  know  we  no  man  after 
the  tlesh.  I  hate  them  with  a  perfect  liatred. 
If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let 
him  be  anathema.  If  any  man  love  father, 
mother,  son,  or  daughter,  more  than  me,  he  is 
not  worthy  of  me,"  2  Cor.  v.  16;  Ps.  c.xxxix. 
22;  Matt.  x.  37. 

This  duty  is,  perliaps,  too  exalted  for  the 
earth.  The  sentiments  of  nature  are,  perhaps, 
too  much  entwined  witli  those  of  religion  to 
be  so  perfectly  distinguished.  It  is  certain, 
however,  that  they  shidl  exist  in  heaven.  If 
you  should  suppose  the  contrary,  the  happiness 
of  heaven  would  be  imbittered  with  a  thousand 
I>ains:  you  can  never  conceive  how  a  father  can 
be  satisfied  with  a  felicity  in  which  his  son  has 
no  share;  nor  how  a  friend  can  be  composed 
while  his  associate  is  loaded  with  "chains  of 
darkness."  Whereas,  if  you  establish  the  prin- 
ciple that  perfect  charity  must  be  an  emanation 
of  divine  love,  you  will  develop  the  inquiry; 
and  you  will  also  conclude,  that  excessive  sor- 
row, excited  by  a  criminal  death,  is  a  criminal 
sorrow,  and  that  if  piety  be  its  principle,  it  is  a 
misguided  piety. 


macy  shed  on  life,  the  converisations  in  his  last 
sickness,  those  tender  adieus,  tho.se  assurances 
of  esteem,  that  frankness  of  ins  soul,  those  fer- 
vent prayers,  those  torrents  of  tears,  and  those 
last  efforts  of  an  expiring  tenderness.  It  is  al- 
lowed in  weeping  to  show  the  robes  that  Dor- 
cas had  made.  It  is  allowed  to  the  tender  Jo- 
seph, on  coming  to  the  threshing  floor  of  Atad, 
the  tomb  of  his  father;  it  is  allowed  to  pour  out 
his  heart  in  lamentations,  to  make  Canaan  re- 
sound with  the  cries  of  his  grief,  and  to  call 
the  place  Abcl-mizraim,  the  mourning  of  the 
Egyptians.  It  is  allowed  to  David  to  go  weep- 
ing, and  saying,  "  O  my  son  Absalom;  my  son, 
my  son  Absalom!  would  to  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  O  Absalom  my  son,  my  son!"  2  Sam. 
xviii.  33.  It  is  allowed  to  St.  Augustine  to 
weep  for  the  pious  Monica,  his  mother,  wlio 
had  slied  so  many  tears  to  obtain  the  grace  for 
him,  that  he  might  for  ever  live  with  God,  to 
use  the  expression  of  his  father.  ConfesB.  lih. 
ix.  c.  8,  &c. 

II.  A  due  regard  to  ourselves  should  affect 
us  with  sorrow  on  seeing  the  dying  and  the 
dead.  The  first  reflection  that  a  sight  of  a 
corpse  should  suggest  is,  that  we  also  must  die, 
and  that  the  road  he  has  just  taken,  is  "  the 
way  of  all  the  eartli."  This  is  a  reflection  that 
every  one  seems  to  make,  while  no  one  makes 
it  in  reality.  We  cast  on  the  dying  and  the 
dead  but  slight  and  transient  regards;  and  if 
we  say,  in  general,  that  this  must  be  our  final 
lot,  we  evade  the  particular  application  to  our 
heart.  While  we  subscribe  to  the  sentence, 
"  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,"  we 
uniformly  make  some  sort  of  exception  with 


340 


ON  THE  SORROW  FOR  THE  DEATH  OF,  Sic. 


[Ser.  XC. 


regard  to  ourselves:  because  we  never  hare 
died,  it  seems  as  though  we  never  should  die. 
Ié'  wc  are  not  so  far  infatuated,  as  to  flatter 
ourselves  concerning  the  fatal  necessity  impos- 
ed on  us  to  leave  the  world,  wc  flatter  our- 
selves with  regard  to  the  circumstances;  we 
consider  them  as  remote;  and  the  distance  of 
the  object  prevents  our  knowing  its  nature, 
and  regarding  it  in  a  just  light.  We  attend 
the  dying,  we  lay  thcni  in  the  tomb,  we  preach 
their  funeral  discourse;  we  follow  them  in  the 
funeral  train;  and  as  though  they  were  of  a 
nature  different  from  us,  and  as  though  we  had 
some  prerogative  over  the  dead,  we  return 
home,  iind  become  candidates  for  their  offices. 
We  divide  their  riches,  and  enter  on  their 
lands,  just  as  the  presumptive  mariner,  who, 
seeing  a  ship  on  the  shore,  driven  by  the  tem- 
pest and  about  to  be  bilged  by  the  waves,  takes 
his  bark,  braves  the  billows,  and  defies  the 
danger,  to  share  in  the  spoils  of  the  wreck. 

A  prudent  man  contemplates  the  death  of 
his  friends  with  other  eyes.  He  follows  tliem 
with  a  mind  attached  to  the  tomb;  he  clothes 
himself  in  their  shrouds;  he  extends  himself  in 
their  coffin;  he  regards  his  living  body  as  about 
to  become  like  their  corpse;  and  the  duty  he 
owes  to  himself  inspires  him  with  a  gracious 
sorrow  on  seeing  in  the  destiny  of  his  lamented 
friends  an  image  of  his  own. 

But  why  sliould  the  thought  of  dying  excite 
sorrow  in  a  saint,  in  regard  of  whom  the  divine 
justice  is  disarmed,  and  to  whom  nothing  is 
presented  beyond  the  tomb  but  inviting  objects.' 
The  solution  of  this  difficulty  associates  with 
what  we  said  in  the  third  place,  that  the  death 
of  persons  worthy  of  our  esteem,  should  e.xcite 
in  our  hearts  the  sentiments  of  repentance. 

HI.  It  is  a  question  often  agitated  among 
Christians,  that  seeing  Jesus  CJhrist  has  satisfied 
the  justice  of  the  Father  for  their  sins,  why 
should  they  still  die?     And  one  of  the  rnost 
pressing  diHiculties  opposed  to  the  evangelical 
system  results  from  it,  that  death  equally  reigns 
over  those  who  embrace,  and  those  who  reject 
it.     To  this  it  is  commonly  replied,  that  death 
is  now  no  longer  a  punishment  for  our  sins,  but 
a  tempest  that  rolls  us  to  the  port,  and  a  pas- 
sage to  a  better  life.    This  is  a  solid  reply:  but 
does  it  perfectly  remove  the  difficulty.'     Have 
we  not  still  a  right  to  ask,  Why  God  should 
lead  us  in  so  strait  a  way?    Why  he  pleases  to 
make  this  route  so  difficult'    Why  do  not  his 
chariots  of  fire  carry  us  up  to  heaven,  as  they 
once  took  Elijah?     Fo»  after  all  the  handsome 
things  one  can  say,  the  period  of  death  is  a 
terrible  period,  and  death  is  still  a  formidable 
foe.   What  labours,  what  conflicts,  what  throes, 
prior  to  the  moment!  what  doubts,  what  uncer- 
tainties, what  labouring  of  thought  before  we 
accpiire  the  degree  of  confidence  to  die  with 
fortitude!    How  disgusting  the  remedies!  How 
irksome  the  aids!    How  severe  the  separations! 
How  piercing  the  final  farewell!     This  consti- 
tutes the  difficulty,  and  the  ordinary  solution 
leaves  it  in  all  its  force. 

The  following  remark  to  me  seems  to  meet 
the  difliculty  in  a  manner  more  direct.  The 
death  of  the  righteous  is  an  evil,  but  it  is  an 
instructive  evil.  It  is  a  violent,  but  a  necessary 
remedy.     It  is  a  portrait  of  the  divine  justice 


in  view,  that  we  may  so  live  as  to  avoid  be- 
coming the  victims  of  that  justice.  It  is  an 
awful  monuincnt  of  the  horror  God  has  of  sin, 
which  should  teach  us  to  avoid  it.  The  more 
submissive  the  good  man  was  to  the  divine 
pleasure,  the  more  distinguished  is  the  monu- 
ment. The  more  eminent  he  was  for  piety, 
the  more  should  we  be  awed  by  this  stroke  of 
justice.  Come,  and  look  at  this  good  man  in 
the  tomb,  and  in  a  putrid  state;  trace  his  exit 
in  a  bed  of  aflliction  to  this  dark  and  obscure 
abode;  see  how,  after  having  been  emaciated 
by  a  severe  disease,  he  is  now  reserved  as  a 
feast  for  worms.  Who  was  this  man?  Was  he 
habitually  wicked?  Was  he  avowedly  an  ene- 
my of  God?  No:  he  was  a  believer;  he  was  a 
model  of  virtue  and  probity.  Meanwhile,  this 
saint,  this  friend  of  Christ,  died:  descended 
from  a  sinful  father,  he  submitted  to  the  sen- 
tence, "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt 
thou  return,"  Gen.  iii.  19.  And  if  those  re- 
mains of  corruption  were  subjugated  to  a  lot 
so  severe,  what  shall  be  the  situation  of  those 
in  whom  sin  reigns?  "  If  the  righteous  be  saved 
with  difficulty,  where  shall  the  wicked  appear? 
If  the  judgment  of  God  begin-  at  his  house, 
what  shall  the  end  be  of  those  that  obey  not 
the  gospel."'  1  Pet.  iv.  17,  18. 

The  law  imposed  on  us  to  die  is,  therefore, 
a  requisite,  but  indeed  a  violent  remedy;  and 
to  correspond  with  the  design,  we  must  drink 
the  cup.  The  death  of  those  who  are  worthy 
of  our  regret,  ought  to  recall  to  our  mind  the 
punishment  of  sin,  and  to  excite  in  us  that  sor- 
row which  is  a  necessary  fruit  of  true  repent- 
ance. 

These  are  the  three  sorts  of  sorrow  that  the 
death  of  our  friends  should  excite  in  our  breast. 
And  so  far  are  we  from  repressing  this  kind  of 
grief,  that  we  would  wish  you  to  feel  it  in  all 
its  force.  Go  to  the  tombs  of  the  dead;  o^en 
their  cofiins;  look  on  their  remains;  let  each 
there  recognise  a  husband,  or  a  parent,  or  chil- 
dren, or  brethren;  but  instead  of  regarding 
them  as  surrounding  him  alive,  let  him  suppose 
himself  as  lodged  in  the  subterraneous  abode 
with  the  persons  to  whom  he  has  been  closely 
united.  Look  at  them  deliberately,  hear  what 
they  say:  death  seems  to  have  condemned  him 
to  an  eternal  silence;  meanwhile  they  speak; 
they  preach  with  a  voice  far  more  eloquent 
than  ours. 

We  have  taught  you  to  shed  upon  their  tombs 
tears  of  tenderness:  hear  the  dead,  they  preach 
with  a  voice  more  eloquent  than  ours.  "  Have 
you  forgotten  the  relations  we  formed,  and  the 
ties  that  united  us?  Is  it  with  games  and  di- 
versions that  you  lament  our  loss?  Is  it  in  the 
circles  of  gayety,  and  in  public  places,  that  you 
commemorate  our  exit'" 

Wo  have  exhorted  you  to  shed  upon  their 
tomb  tears  of  duty  to  yourselves.  "  Hear  the 
dead;"  they  preach  with  a  voice  more  eloquent 
than  ours.  They  cry,  "  Vanity  of  vanities. 
All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof 
is  as  the  flower  of  the  field.  The  world  passeth 
away,  and  the  lusts  thereof.  Surely  man  walk- 
eth  in  a  vain  shadow,"  Eccles.  i.  2;  Isa.  xl.  6; 
1  John  ii.  H;  Ps.  .\xxix.  7.  They  recall  to  your 
mind  the  afflictions  they  have  endured,  the 
troubles  which  assailed  their  mind,  and  the  de- 


lyliich  God  requires  wo  should  constantly  have  1  liriunu  that  affected  their  brain.    They  recall 


Ser.  XCL] 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


those  objects  that  you  may  contemplate  in  their 
situation  an  imago  of  your  own;  that  you  may 
be  apprised  iiow  imperlbctly  quaUfied  a  man  is 
in  his  last  moments  for  recollection,  and  tlie 
work  of  his  salvation.  They  toll  you,  that  they 
once  had  the  same  liealtli,  the  same  strength, 
the  same  fortune,  and  the  same  honours  as  you; 
notwithstanding,  the  torrent  wliich  bore  us 
away,  is  doing  the  same  with  you. 

We  have  exiiorted  you  to  siicd  upon  tlieir 
tombs  tlie  tears  of  repentance.  Hear  tiie  dead; 
they  preach  with  an  eloijuence  greater  than 
ours;  they  say,  "  that  sin  has  brought  death  into 
the  world;  death  which  separates  the  father 
from  the  son,  and  the  son  from  the  fatiier;  which 
disunites  hearts  the  most  closely  attached,  and 
dissolves  tlie  most  intimate  and  tender  ties." 
They  say  more:  Hear  tiie  dead — hear  some  of 
them,  vviio,  from  the  abyss  of  eternal  flames, 
into  whicli  they  are  plunged  for  impenitency, 
exhort  you  to  repentance. 

O!  terrific  preachers,  preachers  of  despair, 
may  your  voice  break  the  hearts  of  those  hear- 
ers on  which  our  ministry  is  destitute  of  energy 
and  etfect. — Hear  tliose  dead,  they  speak  with 
a  voice  more  eloquent  than  ours  from  the  depths 
of  the  abyss,  from  the  deep  caverns  of  hell;  they 
cry,  "Who  among  us  shall  dwell  with  devour- 
ing fire?  Who  among  us  shall  dwell  with  ever- 
lasting burnings?  Ye  mountains  fall  on  us;  ye 
hills  cover  us.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  living  God,  when  he  is  angry," 
Isa.  x.v.xiii.  14;  Luke  x.xiii.  30;  Heb.  x.  31. 
Hear  the  father,  who  suftering  in  hell  for  the 
bad  education  given  to  the  family  he  left  on 
earth.  Hear  him  by  tiie  despair  of  his  condi- 
tion; by  the  chains  which  oppress  him;  by  the 
fire  which  devours  him;  and  by  the  remorse,  the 
torments,  and  the  anguish  which  gnaw  him, 
entreat  you  not  to  follow  him  to  that  abyss. 
Hear  the  impure,  the  accomplice  of  your  plea- 
sure, who  says,  that  if  God  had  called  you  the 
first,  you  would  have  been  substituted  in  his 
place,  and  who  entreats  to  let  your  eyes  become 
as  fountains  of  repentant  tears. 

This  is  the  sort  of  sorrow  with  which  we 
should  be  affected  for  the  death  of  those  with 
whom  it  has  pleased  God  to  connect  us  by  the 
bonds  of  society  and  of  nature.  May  it  pene- 
trate our  hearts;  and  for  ever  banish  the  sorrow 
which  confounds  us  with  those  who  have  no 
hope.  Let  us  be  compassionate  citizens,  faith- 
ful friends,  tender  fathers,  loving  all  those  with 
whom  it  has  pleased  God  to  unite  us,  and  not 
regarding  this  love  as  a  defect;  but  let  us  love 
our  Maker  with  supreme  affection.  Let  us  be 
always  ready  to  sacrifice  to  him  whatever  we 
have  most  dear  on  earth.  May  a  glorious  re- 
surrection be  tlie  ultimatum  of  our  requests. 
May  the  hope  of  obtaining  it  assuage  all  our 
sufferings.  And  may  God  Almighty,  who  has 
educated  us  in  a  religion  so  admirably  adapted 
to  support  in  temptation,  give  success  to  our 
efforts,  and  be  the  crown  of  our  hopes;  .linen. 
To  whom  be  honour  and  glory,  henceforth  and 
for  ever. 


341 


SERMON  XCI. 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


1  Kings  iii.  6 — 14. 
In  Giheon,  the  Lord  appeared  to  Solomon,  in  a 
dream  by  night:  and  God  said,  .Isk  ichal  I  shall 
give.     Jlnd  Solomon  said,  Thou  hast  showed 
unto  thy  servant  David,  my  father,  great  mercy, 
according  as  he  walked  before  thee  in  truth,  and 
in  righteousness,  and  in  uprightness  of  heart 
with  thee;  and  thou  hast  kept  for  him  this  great 
kindness,  that  thou  hast  given  him  a  son  to  sit 
on  his  throne,  as  it  is  this  day.     ^ind  now,  0 
Lord,  my  God,  thou  hast  made  thy  servant  king 
instead  of  David,  my  father;  and  I  am  but  a 
little  child;   I  kno%o  not  how  to  go   out  and 
come  in.    .ind  thy  servant  is  in  the  midst  of  thy 
people  which  thou  hast  chosen,  a  great  people, 
which  cannot  be  numbered  nor  counted  for  mul- 
titude.    Give,  therefore,  thy  servant  an  under- 
standing heart,  to  judge  thy  people,  that  J  may 
discern  between  good  and  bad:  for  who  is  able  to 
judge  this  thy  so  great  a  people?    And  the  speech 
pleased  the  Lord,  that  Solomon  had  asked  this 
thing.     And  God  said  unto  him.  Because  thou 
h(Uit  asked  this  thing,  and  hast  not  asked  for  thy- 
self long  life;  neither  hast  thou  asked  riches  for 
thyself;  nor  hast  asked  the  life  of  thine  enemies, 
but  hast  asked  for  thyself  understanding  to  dis- 
cern judgment:  Behold  I  have  done  according  to 
thy  ivords.     Lo,  I  have  given  thee  a  wise  and 
understanding  heart,  so  that  there  teas  none  like 
thee  before  thee,  neither  after  thee  shall  any  arise 
like  unto  thee.     And  I  have  also  given  thee  that 
which  thou  hast  not  asked,  both  riches  and  ho- 
nour; so  that  there  shall  not  be  any  among  the 
kings  like  unto  thee  all  thy  days.     And  if  thou 
ivilt  ivalk  in  my  ivays,  to  keep  my  statutes  and 
my  commandments,   as  thy  father  David  did 
walk,  then  ivill  1  lengthen  thy  days. 
"  Wo  to  thee,  O  land,  when  thy  king  is  a 
child!"    In  tliis  way  has  the  sage  expressed  the 
calamities  of  states  conducted  hymen  destitute 
of  experience.     But  this  gençral  maxim  is  not 
without  exceptions.     As  we  sometimes  see  the 
gayeties  of  youth  in  mature  age,  so  we  some- 
times perceive  in  youth  the  gravity  of  sober 
years.     There  are  some  geniuses  premature, 
with  whom  reason  anticipates  on  years;  and 
who,  if  I  may  so  speak,  on  leaving  the  cradle, 
discover  talents  worthy  of  the  throne.     A  pro- 
fusion of  supernatural  endowments,  coming  to 
tiie  aid  of  nature,  exemplifies  in  their  character 
the  happy  experience  of  the  prophet;  "  I  have 
more  understanding  than  all  my  teachers.     I 


•  Saurin,  placed  at  the  Hague  a3  first  minister  of  the 
persecuted  Protestants,  and  often  attended  by  illustrious 
characters,  saw  it  his  duty  to  apprise  them  of  the  moral 
sentiments  essential  for  an  entrance  on  high  office  and  ex- 
tensive authority.  The  Abbe  Mauri/,  in  his  treatise  on 
Elonuencc,  though  hostile  to  Saurin,  allows  this  Sermon 
on  the  }Visdom  of  Solomon,  to  be  one  of  the  best  speci- 
mens of  his  eloquence. 


342 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


[Ser.  XCl. 


understand  more  than  tho  ancients,"  Ps.  cxix. 
99,  100. 

Here  we  have  an  illustrious  proof.  Solomon, 
in  the  early  periods  of  life,  formed  tlie  corrcctest 
idea  of  government  which  had  ever  entered  tho 
mind  of  the  profoundest  philosojihcrs,  or  the 
most  consummate  statesmen.  Awed  by  tiie 
sceptre,  he  acknowledrfcd  tlic  impoteucy  of  liis 
arm  to  swiiy  it.  Of  the  high  privilege  granted 
of  God,  to  ask  whatever  he  would,  he  availed 
himself  solely  to  ask  wisdom.  Wiiat  an  ad- 
mirable choice!  How  many  aged  men  have  we 
seen  less  enligiitencd  tiian  tiiis  youth?  On  tlie 
other  hand,  God  honoured  a  petition  so  wise, 
by  superadding  to  the  petitioner  every  other 
endowment:  he  gave  to  Solomon  wisdom,  and 
with  wisdom,  glory  and  riches;  he  elevated  him 
to  a  scale  of  grandeur,  wiiicii  no  prince  ever 
did,  or  ever  shall  be  allowed  to  equal.  It  is  to 
tliis  petition  so  judicious,  and  to  this  reply  so 
magnificent,  that  we  shall  call  your  attention, 
after  having  bestowed  a  moment  on  occasion  of 
both. 

It  occurs  in  the  leading  words  of  our  text. 
It  was  a  divine  communication,  in  which  the 
place,  the  manner,  and  the  subject,  claim  parti- 
cular attention. 

1.  The  ])lace:  it  was  in  Gibeon;  not  the  city 
from  which  those  Gibeonites  derived  tiicir 
name,  who,  by  having  recourse  to  singular  arti- 
fice, saved  their  lives,  which  they  thought  them- 
selves unable  to  defend  by  force,  or  to  preserve 
by  compassion.  That,  I  would  say,  the  city  of 
those  Gibeonites,  was  a  considerable  place,  and 
called  in  the  Book  of  Joshua,  a  royal  city.  The 
other  was  situate  on  the  highest  mountains  of 
Judea,  distant,  according  to  Euscbius  and  St. 
Jerome,  about  eigiit  miles  from  Jerusalem. 

We  shall  not  enter  into  geograpiiical  discus- 
sions. What  claims  attention  is,  a  circumstance 
of  the  place  where  Solomon  was,  whicli  natu- 
rally recalls  to  view  one  of  the  weaknesses  of 
this  prince.  It  is  remarked  at  tiie  connnence- 
ment  of  the  chapter,  from  which  we  have  taken 
our  text,  that  "  the  people  sacrificed  in  high 
places."  The  choice  was,  probably,  not  exempt 
from  superstition:  it  is  certain,  at  least,  that 
idolaters  usually  selected  tlie  highest  mountains 
for  the  exercise  of  their  religious  ceremonies. 
Tacitus  assigns  as  a  reason,  that  in  those  places, 
being  nearer  the  gods,  they  were  the  more  likely 
to  be  heard.  Lucian  reasons  much  in  the  same 
way,  and,  without  a  doubt,  less  to  vindicate  the 
custom  than  to  expose  it  to  contempt.  God 
himself  has  forbidden  it  in  law. 

We  have,  however,  classed  this  circumstance 
in  Solomon's  life  among  his  frailties,  ratlier  than 
his  faults,  rrevenlion  for  high  places  was  much 
less  culpable  in  the  reign  of  this  prince,  than  in 
the  ages  which  followed.  In  those  ages,  the 
Israelites  violated,  by  sacrificing  on  high  places, 
the  law  which  forbade  any  sacrifice  to  be  ofiered, 
except  in  the  temple  of  Jerusalem;  whereas,  in 
the  age  of  which  we  now  speak,  the  temple  did 
not  exist.  The  people  sacrificed  on  the  l)ra/.en 
altar,  constructed  by  the  divine  command.  This 
altar  was  then  in  Gil)eon,  where  it  had  been 
escorted  witii  the  tabernacle,  as  we  read  in  the 
book  of  Chronicles. 

2.  The  manner  in  which  the  revelation  to 
Solomon  was  made,  supplies  a  second  source 
of  reflections.     It  was,  says  the  historian,  in  a  I 


dream.  We  have  elsewhere*  remarked,  that 
there  are  three  sorts  of  dreams.  Some  are  in 
tho  order  of  nature;  others  are  in  the  order  of 
providence;  and  a  third  class  are  of  an  order 
superior  to  both. 

1  call  dreams  in  tiie  order  of  nature,  those 
which  ought  merely  to  be  regarded  as  tho  irre- 
gular flights  of  imagination,  over  which  the 
will  has  lost,  or  partially  lost,  its  command. 

I  call  dreams  in  the  order  of  providence, 
those  which  without  deviation  from  the  course 
of  nature,  excite  certain  instructive  ideas,  and 
suggest  to  the  mind  truths,  to  whicli  we  were 
not  sufficiently  attentive  while  awake.  Provi- 
dence sometimes  directing  our  attention  to  pe- 
culiar circumstances  in  a  way  purely  natural, 
and  destitute  of  all  claims  to  the  supernatural, 
and  much  less  to  the  marvellous. 

Some  dreams,  however,  are  of  an  order  su- 
perior to  those  of  nature,  and  of  providence. 
It  was  by  this  sort  of  dreams  that  God  revealed 
his  pleasure  to  the  prophets:  but  this  dispensa- 
tion being  altogether  divine,  and  of  which  tho 
Scriptures  say  little,  and  being  impossible  for 
the  researches  of  the  greatest  philosopher  to 
supply  the  silence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  shall 
make  no  fruitless  efforts  farther  to  illustrate 
the  manner  of  the  revelation  with  which  Solo- 
mon was  honoured. 

3.  A  reason  very  dissimilar  supersedes  our 
stopping  to  illustrate  the  subject;  I  would  say, 
it  has  no  need  of  illustration.  God  was  wish- 
ful to  put  Solomon  to  the  proof,  by  prompting 
him  to  ask  whatsoever  he  would,  and  by  en- 
gaging to  fulfil  it.  Solomon's  reply  was  wor- 
thy of  the  test.  His  sole  request  was  for  wis- 
dom. God  honoured  this  enlightened  request; 
and  in  granting  profound  wisdom  to  his  ser- 
vant, he  superadded  riches,  and  glory,  and 
long  life. — It  is  this  enlightened  request,  and 
this  munificent  reply,  we  are  now  to  examine. 
We  shall  examine  them  jointly,  placing,  at  the 
same  time,  the  harmony  of  the  one  with  the 
other,  in  a  just  and  proper  view.  Four  re- 
marks demand  attention  in  Solomon's  request 
to  God,  and  fuur  in  God's  reply. 

I.  Consider,  in  Solomon's  request,  the  recol- 
lection of  past  mercies:  "  Thou  hast  showed 
unto  thy  servant  David,  my  father,  great  mer- 
cy:" and  mark,  in  the  reply,  how  pleasing  this 
recollection  was  to  God. 

II.  Consider,  in  Solomon's  request,  the  as- 
pect under  which  he  regarded  the  regal  power. 
He  considered  it  solely  with  a  view  to  the  high 
duties  on  which  it  obliged  him  to  enter.  "  Thy 
servant  is  in  the  midst  of  thy  people  which 
thou  hast  cliosen,  a  great  people,  which  can- 
not be  numbered  nor  counted  for  multitude. 
Who  is  able  to  judge  tiiis  thy  so  great  a  peo- 
ple?" And  in  God's  re])ly,  mark  the  opposite 
seal,  with  regard  to  this  idea  of  tho  supreme 
authority. 

HI.  Consider,  in  Solomon's  request,  tho  sen- 
timents of  his  own  weakness  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  insufliciency:  "  I  am  but  as  a  little 
child,  and  know  not  how  to  go  out,  and  to 
come  in:"  and  in  God's  reply,  mark  how  high- 
ly he  is  delighted  with  humility. 

IV.  In  Solomon's  reijuest,  consider  tlie  wis- 
dom of  his  choice;  "Give,  therefore,  unto  thy 


'  DiKoura  Hist.  torn.  v.  p.  184. 


Ser.  XCL] 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


343 


servant  an  understanding  heart  to  judge  thy 
people:"  and  in  God's  reply,  mark  how  Solo- 
mon's prayer  was  heard,  and  his  wisdom 
crowned.  Four  objects,  all  worthy  of  our  re- 
gard. 

I.  Consider,  in  Solomon's  request,  the  recol- 
lection of  mercies.     It  was  the  mercies  of  Da- 
vid, his  father.     Solomon  made  this  reference 
as  a  motive  to  obtain  the  divine  mercies  and 
aids  his  situation  required.     lie  aspired  at  the 
blessings  which  God  confers  on  the  children  of 
faithful  fathers.     lie  wished  to  become  the  ob- 
ject of  that  promise  in  which  God  stands  en- 
gao-ed  to  "  show  mercy  to  tliousands  of  gene- 
rations of  those  that  love  him,"  Exod.  xx.  6. 
This  is  the  first  object  of  our  discourse.  The 
privilege  of  an  illustrious  birth,  I  confess,  is 
sometimes  extravagantly  amplified.     This  kind 
of  folly  is  not  novel  in  the  present  age:  it  was 
the  folly  of  the  Hebrew  nation.     To  most  of 
the  rebukes  of  their   prophets,  they  opposed 
this  extraordinary   defence:    ''  We  are  Abra- 
ham's seed;  we  have  Abraham  to  our  father," 
Matt.  iii.  9.     What  an  apology!     Does  an  il- 
lustrious birth  sanction  low  and  grovelling  sen- 
timents.    Do  the  virtues  of  our  ancestors  ex- 
cuse us  from  being  virtuous?     And  has  God 
for  ever  engaged  to  excuse  impious  children, 
because  their  parents  were  pious?     You  are  the 
children  of  Abraham;  you  have  an  illustrious 
descent;  your  ancestors  were  the  models  and 
glory  of  their  age.     Then  you  are  the  more 
inexcusable  for  being  the  reproach  of  your  age; 
then  you  are  the  faithless  depositories  of  the 
nobility  with  which  you  have  been  intrusted; 
then  you  have  degenerated  from  your  former 
grandeur:  then  you  shall  be  condemned  to  sur- 
render to  nature  a  corrupted  blood,  which  you 
received  pure   from  those  to  whom  you  owe 
your  birth. 

It  is  true,  however,  all  things  being  weighed, 
i  that,  in  tracing  a  descent,  it  is  a  singular  fa- 
vour of  Heaven  to  be  able  to  cast  one's  eyes 
on  a  long  line  of  illustrious  ancestors.  I  am 
not  about  to  offer  incense  to  the  idol  of  distin- 
guished families;  the  Lord's  church  has  more 
correct  ideas  of  nobility.  To  be  accounted  no- 
ble in  the  sanctuary,  we  must  give  proof  of 
virtue,  and  not  of  empty  titles,  which  often 
owe  their  origin  to  the  vanity,  the  seditions, 
and  fawning  baseness  of  those  who  display 
them  with  so  much  pride.  To  be  noble  in  the 
language  of  our  Scriptures;  and  to  be  impure, 
avaricious,  haughty,  and  implacable,  are  dif- 
ferent ideas.  But  charity,  but  patience,  but 
moderation,  but  dignity  of  soul,  and  a  certain 
elevation  of  mind,  place  the  possessor  above 
the  world  and  its  maxims.  These  are  charac- 
teristics of  the  nobility  of  God's  children. 

In  this  view,  it  is  a  high  favour  of  Heaven, 
in  tracing  one's  descent,  to  be  able  to  cast  the 
eye  on  along  line  of  illustrious  ancestors.  How 
often  have  holy  men  availed  themselves  of 
these  motives  to  induce  the  Deit}',  if  not  to  bear 
with  the  Israelites  in  their  course  of  crimes,  at 
least  to  pardon  them  after  the  crimes  have 
been  committed?  How  often  have  they  said, 
in  the  supplications  they  opposed  to  the  wrath 
of  Heaven,  "  O  God,  remember  Abraham, 
and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  thy  servants!"  How 
often  has  God  yielded  to  the  strength  of  these 


argumenta'  How  often  has  lie,  for  the  sake  of 
the  patriarchs,  for  the  sake  of  David,  heard 
prayer  in  behalf  of  their  children? 

Let  these  maxims  be  deej)ly  imprinted  on 
the  heart.  Our  own  interest  should  be  motive 
sufficient  to  prompt  us  to  piety.  But  we 
should  also  be  e.xcited  to  it  by  the  interest  of 
our  children.  The  recollection  of  our  virtues 
is  the  best  inheritance  we  can  leave  them  after 
death.  These  virtues  aflbrd  them  claims  to 
the  divine  favours.  The  good  will  of  Hea- 
ven, is,  in  some  sort,  entailed  on  families  who 
fear  the  Lord.  IIapi)y  the  fathers,  when  ex- 
tended on  the  bed  of  death,  who  can  say,  "  My 
cliildren,  I  am  about  to  appear  before  the  awful 
tribunal,  where  there  is  no  resource  for  poor 
mortals,  but  humility  and  repentance.  Mean- 
while, I  bless  God,  that  notwithstanding  my 
defects,  which  I  acknowledge  with  confusion 
of  face,  you  will  not  have  cause  to  blush  on 
pronouncing;  the  name  of  your  father.  I  have 
been  faithfiil  to  the  truth,  and  have  constantly 
walked  before  God,  "in  the  uprightness  of  my 
heart."  Happy  the  children  who  have  such  a 
descent;  I  would  prefer  it  to  titles  the  most 
distinguished,  to  riches  the  most  dazzling,  and 
to  offices  the  most  lucrative.  "  O  God,  thou 
hast  showed  iBito  thy  servant  David,  my  fa- 
ther, great  mercy,  according  as  he  walked  be- 
fore thee  in  truth,  and  in  righteousness,  and  in 
uprightness  of  heart!"  Here  is  the  recollec- 
tion of  past  mercies,  the  recollection  of  which 
God  approves,  and  the  first  object  of  our  dis- 
course. 

II.  Consider,  secondly,  in  the  prayer  of  So- 
lomon, the  aspect  under  which  he  contemplated 
the  regal  pùwer.  He  viewed  it  principally 
with  regard  to  the  high  duties  it  imposed. 
"  Thy  ser  Vint  is  in  the  midst  of  thy  people 
which  thou  hast  chosen;  who  is  able  to  judge 
this  thy  so  great  a  people,  which  cannot  be 
numbered.'*  The  answer  of  God  is  a  corres- 
pondent seal  to  this  idea  of  supreme  authority- 
And  whative  here  say  of  the  regal  power,  wc 
apply  to  eVery  other  office  of  trust  and  dignity. 
A  man  of  integrity  must  not  view  them  with 
regard  to  the  emoluments  they  produce,  but 
with  regard  to  the  duties  they  impose. 

What  iB  the  end  proposed  by  society  on  ele- 
vating certain  men  to  high  stations?  Is  it  to 
augment  their  pride?  Is  it  to  usher  them  into 
a  style  af  life  the  most  extravagant'  Is  it  to 
a2'gran<iize  their  families  by  the  ruin  of  the 
widow  and  the  orphan?  Is  it  to  adore  them  as 
idols?  Is  it  to  become  their  slaves?  Potentates 
and  magistrates  of  the  earth,  ask  those  sub- 
jects to  whom  you  are  indebted  for  the  high 
scale  of  elevation  you  enjoy.  Ask,  Why  those 
dignities  were  conferred?  They  will  say,  it 
was  to  intrust  you  with  their  safety  and  repose; 
it  was  to  procure  flithers  and  protectors;  it  was 
to  find  peace  and  prosperity  under  the  shadow 
of  your  tribunals.  To  induce  you  to  enter  on 
those  arduous  duties,  they  have  accompanied 
them  with  those  inviting  appendages  which 
soothe  the  cares,  and  alleviate  the  weights  of 
oflice.  They  have  conferred  titles;  they  have 
sworn  obedience,  and  ensured  revenue.  En- 
trance then  on  a  high  duty  is  to  make  a  con- 
tract with  the  people,  over  whom  you  proceed 
to  exercise  it;    it  is  to  make  a  compact,  by 


d44 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


[Ser.  XCI. 


which  certain  duties  are  required  on  certain 
conditions.  To  require  the  emoluments,  when 
the  conditions  of  the  engagements  are  violated, 
is  an  abominable  usurpation;  it  is  a  usurpation 
of  honour,  of  homage,  and  of  revenue.  I  speak 
literally,  and  without  even  a  shadow  of  exag- 
geration: a  magistrate  who  deviates  from  the 
duties  of  his  office,  after  having  received  the 
emolument,  ought  to  come  under  the  penal 
statutes,  as  those  who  take  away  their  neigh- 
bours' goods.  These  statutes  require  restitu- 
tion. Before  restitution,  he  is  liable  to  this 
anathema,  "  Wo  to  him  that  increaseth  tiiat 
which  is  not  his  own,  and  to  him  tliat  ladetli 
himself  with  thick  clay,  for  the  stone  shall 
cry  out  of  the  wall,  and  the  beam  out  of  the 
timber  shall  answer  it,"  Hah.  ii.  6,  11.  Before 
restitution,  he  is  unworthy  of  the  Lord's  table, 
and  included  in  the  curse  we  denounce  against 
thieves,  whom  we  repel  from  the  lioly  Eucha- 
rist. Before  restitution,  he  is  unable  to  die  in 
peace,  and  he  is  included  in  the  list  of  those 
"  who  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God." 
But  into  what  strange  reflections  do  these 
considerations  involve  us?  What  awful  ideas 
do  they  excite  in  our  minds?  And  what  alarm- 
ing consequences  do  they  draw  on  certain 
kings? — Ye  Moseses;  ye  Elijahs;  ye  John  Bap- 
tists; faithful  servants  of  the  living  God,  and 
celebrated  in  every  age  of  the  c.iurch  for  your 
fortitude,  your  courage,  and  ycur  zeal;  you, 
who  know  not  how  to  temporize,  nor  to  trem- 
ble; no,  neither  before  Pharaoh,  nor  before 
Ahab,  nor  before  Herod,  nor  before  Herodias, 
why  are  you  not  in  this  pulpit?  Why  do  you 
not  to-day  supply  our  place,  to  communicate 
to  the  subject  all  the  energy  of  which  it  is  sus- 
ceptible? "  Be  wise,  O  ye  kings;  be  instructed, 
ye  judges  of  the  earth,"  Ps.  ii.  10. 

111.  We  have  remarked,  thirtly,  in  the 
prayer  of  Solomon,  the  sentiments  of  his  own 
weakness;  and  in  God's  reply,  the  ligh  regard 
testified  towards  humility.  The  ciaracter  of 
the  king  whom  Solomon  succeedsd,  tlie  ar- 
duous nature  of  the  duties  to  which  he  was 
called,  and  the  insufficiency  of  his  age,  were 
to  him  three  considerations  of  humility. 

1.  The  character  of  the  king  to  whom  he 
succeeded.  "  Thou  hast  showed  uno  tliy  ser- 
vant David,  my  father,  great  mercy,  iccording 
as  he  walked  before  thee  in  truth,  and  in  right- 
eousness, and  in  the  uprightness  of  nis  heart; 
and -thou  hast  given  him  a  son  to  sit  apon  his 
throne.  How  dangerous  to  succeed  an  illus- 
trious prince!  The  brilliant  actions  of  fi  prede- 
cessor, are  so  many  sentences  against  the  faults 
of  his  successor.  The  people  never  fail  to 
make  certain  oblique  contrasts  between  the 
past  and  the  present.  They  recollect  the  vir- 
tues they  have  attested,  tiio  hap|)incss  tliey 
have  enjoyed,  the  prosperity  with  which  they 
have  been  loaded,  and  the  distinguished  quali- 
fications of  the  prince,  whom  death  has  recent- 
ly snatched  away.  And  if  the  idea  of  iiaving 
had  an  illustrious  predecessor  is,  on  all  occa- 
sions, a  subject  of  serious  consideration  for  him 


phet,  the  piety  of  a  good  man,  and  even  the 
virtues  of  a  saint  of  the  first  rank. 

2.  The  extent  of  the  duties  imposed  on  So- 
lomon, was  the  second  object  of  his  diffidence. 
"  Who  is  able  to  judge  this  thy  so  great  a  peo- 
ple'"    Adequately  to  judge  a  great  nation,  a 
man  must  regard  iiimself  as  no  more  his  own, 
but  wholly  devoted  to  the  people.    Adequately 
to  judge  a  great  nation,  a  man  must  have  a 
consummate  knowledge  of  human  nature,  of 
civil  society,  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and  of  the 
peculiar  laws  of  the  provinces  over  which  he 
presides.     Adequately  to  judge  a  nation,  he 
must  have  his  house  and  his  heart  ever  open  to 
the  solicitations  of  tliose  over  whom  he  is  ex- 
alted.   Adequately  to  judge  a  people,  he  must 
recollect,  that  a  small  sum  of  money,  that  a 
foot  of  land,  is  as  much  to  a  poor  man  as  a 
city,  a  province,  and   a   kingdom,   are  to  a 
prince.  Adequately  to  judge  a  people,  he  must 
habituate  himself  to    the  disgust  excited  by 
listening  to  a  man  who  is  quite  full  of  his  sub- 
ject, and  who  imagines  that  the  person  ad- 
dressed, ought  to  be  equally  impressed  with  its 
importance.     Adequately  to  judge  a  people, 
a  man  must  be  exempt  from  vice:  nothing  is 
more  calculated  to  prejudice  the  mind  against 
the  purity  of  his  decisions,  than  to  see  him 
captivated  by  some  predominant  passion.  Ade 
quately  to  judge  a  people,  he  must  be  desti- 
tute of  personal  respect;  he  must  neither  yield 
to  the  entreaties  of  those  who  know  the  way 
to  his  heart,  nor  be  intimidated  by  the  high 
tone  of  others,  who  threaten  to  hold  up  as 
martyrs,  the  persons  they  obstinately  defend. 
Adequately  to  judge  a  people,  a  man  must  ex- 
pand, if  I  may  so  speak,  all  the  powers  of  his 
soul,  that  he  may  be  equal  to  tiie  dignity  of 
his  duty,  and  avoid  all  distraction,  which,  on 
engrossing  the  capacity  of  the  mind,  obstruct 
its  perception  of  tiie  main  object.    And  "  who 
is  sufficient  for  these  things?"  who  is  able  to 
judge  this  thy  so  great  a  people?  2  Cor.  ii.  16. 
3.  The  snares  of  youth  form  a  third  object 
of  Solomon's  fear,  and  a  third  cause  of  his  dif- 
fidence.   "  I  am  but  a  little  ciiild;  I  know  not 
how  to  go  out  and  come  in."  Some  chronolo- 
gists  are  of  opinion,  that  Solomon,  when  he 
uttered  .these  words,  "  I  am  but  a  little  child," 
was  only  twelve  years   of  age,  which   to  us 
seems  insupportable;  for  besides  its  not  being 
proved  by  the  event,  as  we  shall  explain,  it 
ouirht  to  be  placed  in  tlie  first  year  of  tiiis 
prince's  reign:  and  the  style  in  which  David 
addressed  him  on  his  investiture  with  the  reins 
of  government,  sufficiently    jiroves,    that   he 
spake  not  to  a  cliild.     He  calls  hini  wise,  and 
to  this  wisdom  he  confides  the  punishment  of 
Joab  and  of  Shimci. 

Neither  do  wo  think  that  we  can  attach  to 
these  words,  "  I  am  but  a  little  child,"  with 
better  grace,  a  sense  purely  metapiiorical,  as 
implying  nothing  more  than  Solomon's  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  infancy  of  his  under- 
standing. The  opinion  most  probable,  in  our 
apprehension,  (and  wo  omit  the  detail  of  the 


who  h;is  to  follow,  never  had  a  prince  a  justcr  1  reasons  by  which  we  are  convinced  of  it)  is, 
cause  to  be  awed  than  Solomon.  I  lo  succeed-  1  that  of  those  who  think  that  Solomon  calls  him- 
ed  a  man  who  was  the  model  of  kings,  in  self  a  little  child,  nnich  in  the  same  sense  as 
whose  person  was  united  the  wisdom  of  a  the  term  is  applied  to  Benjamin,  to  Joshua, 
statesman,  the  valour  of  a  soldier,  the  expe-  and  to  the  sons  of  Eli. 
rience  of  a  marshal,  the  illumination  of  a  pro-  I      It  was,  tlierefore,  I  would  suppose,  at  the 


Ser.  XCI.] 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMOX. 


345 


age  of  twenty  or  of  twenty-six  years,  that  So- 
lomon saw  himself  called  to  fill  tiic  throne  of 
the  greatest  kings,  and  to  enter  on  tiiose  ex- 
alted duties,  of  which  we  have  given  but  an 
imperfect  sketch.  How  disproporlioned  did 
the  vocation  seem  to  the  age!  It  is  then  that 
wo  give  scope  to  presumption,  whicli  has  a 
plausible  appearance,  being  as  yet  unmorlified 
by  the  recollection  of  past  errors.  It  is  then, 
that  a  jealousy  of  not  being  yet  chissed  by 
others  among  great  men,  prompts  a  youth  to 
place  himself  in  that  high  rank.  It  is  then 
that  we  regard  counsels  as  so  many  attacks  on 
the  authority  we  assume  to  ourselves.  It  is 
then  that  we  oppose  an  untractablo  disposition 
as  a  barrier  to  the  advice  of  a  faithful  friend, 
who  would  lead  us  to  propriety  of  conduct.  It 
is  then,  that  our  passions  hurry  us  to  excess, 
and  become  the  arbitrators  of  truth  and  false- 
hood, of  equity  and  injustice. 

Presumptuous  youths,  who  make  the  assu- 
rance with  which  you  asjjire  at  the  first  offices 
of  state,  the  principal  ground  of  success,  how 
can  I  better  impress  you  with  this  head  of  my 
discourse,  than  by  atlirming,  that  the  higher 
notions  you  entertain  of  your  own  sufficiency, 
the  lower  you  sink  at  the  bar  of  equity  and 
reason.  The  more  you  account  yourselves 
qualified  to  govern,  the  less  you  are  capable  of 
doing  it.  The  sentiment  Solomon  entertained 
of  his  own  weakness,  was  the  most  distinguish- 
ed of  his  royal  virtues.  The  profound  humility 
with  which  he  asked  God  to  supply  his  ina- 
bility, was  the  best  disposition  for  obtaining 
the  divine  support. 

IV.  We  are  come  at  length  to  the  last,  and 
to  the  great  object  of  tlie  history  before  us. 
Here  we  must  show  you,  on  ihe  one  hand,  our 
hero  preferring  the  requisite  talents,  to  pomp, 
splendour,  riches,  and  all  tliat  is  grateful  to 
kings;  and  from  the  vast  source  opened  by 
Heaven,  deriving  but  wisdom  and  understand- 
ing. VVe  must  show,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
God,  honouring  a  prayer  so  enlightened,  ac- 
corded to  Solomon  the  wisdom  and  under- 
standing he  had  asked,  and  with  tliese,  riches, 
glory,  and  long  life. 

Wlio  can  forbear  being  delighted  with  tlie 
first  object,  and  wiio  can  sufficiently  api)laud 
the  magnanimity  of  Solomon.'  Place  your- 
selves in  the  situation  of  this  prince.  Ima- 
gine, for  a  moment,  that  you  are  tlie  arbitrators 
of  your  own  destiny,  and  that  )'ou  hear  a  voice 
i'rom  the  blessed  God,  saying,  "  Ask  what  I 
shall  give  tliee."  How  awful  would  tliis  test 
prove  to  most  of  our  hearers!  If  we  may  judge 
of  our  wishes  by  our  pursuits,  what  strange  re- 
plies should  we  make  to  God!  What  a  choice 
would  it  be!  Our  privilege  would  become  our 
ruin,  and  we  should  have  the  awful  ingenuity 
to  find  misery  in  the  very  bosom  of  happiness. 
Who  would  say,  Lord,  give  me  wisdom  and 
understanding;  Lord,  help  me  worthily  to  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  the  station  with  which  I 
am  intrusted?  This  is  the  utmost  of  all  my 
requests;  and  to  this  alone  I  would  wish  thy 
mimificence  to  be  confined.  On  the  contrary, 
biassed  by  the  circumstance  of  situation,  and 
swayed  by  some  predominant  passion,  one 
would  say,  Lord,  augment  my  heaps  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  in  proportion  as  my  riches  shall  in- 
crease, diminish  the  desire  of  expenditure:  ano- 
VoL.  II.— 14 


ther,  Lord,  raise  inc  to  the  highest  scale  of 
grandeur,  and  give  me  to  trample  under  foot, 
men  who  shall  have  the  assurance  to  become 
my  eijuals,  and  whom  1  regard  as  the  worms  of 
earth.  How  little,  for  the  most  part,  do  we 
know  ourselves  in  prosperity!  How  incorrect 
are  our  ideas!  Great  God,  do  thou  determine 
our  lot,  and  save  us  from  the  reproach  of  mak- 
ing an  unhappy  clioice,  by  removing  the  occa- 
sion. Solomon  was  incomparably  wiser.  Fill- 
ed with  the  duties  of  his  august  station,  and 
awed  by  its  ditliculties,  he  said,  "  Lord,  give 
thy  servant  an  understanding  heart  to  judge 
thy  people,  that  I  may  discern  between  good 
and  bad." 

But  if  we  ap[)laud  the  wisdom  of  Solomon'."» 
prayer,  how  nmch  more  should  we  applaud 
the  goodness  and  munificence  of  God's  reply.* 
"  Because  thou  hast  asked  this  thing,  and  hast 
not  asked  for  thyself  long  life,  neither  hast 
thou  asked  riches  for  thyself,  nor  hast  asked 
the  life  of  tiiine  enemies.  But  hast  asked  un- 
derstanding to  discern  judgment.  Behold,  I 
have  done  according  to  thy  word.  Lo,  I  have 
given  thee  a  wise  and  an  understanding  heart; 
and  I  have  also  given  thee  that  which  thou 
hast  not  asked,  both  riches  and  honour,  so  that 
there  shall  not  be  any  among  the  kings  like 
unto  thee  all  thy  days." 

How  amply  was  this  promise  fulfilled,  and 
how  did  its  accomplishment  correspond  witli 
the  munificence  of  him  by  whom  it  was  made! 
By  virtue  of  this  promise,  I  "  have  given  thee 
an  understanding  heart,"  we  see  Solomon  car- 
rying the  art  of  civil  government  to  t.'ie  high- 
est perfection  it  can  ever  attain.  Witness  the 
profound  prudence  by  which  he  discerned  the 
real  from  the  pretended  mother,  when  he  said 
witli  divine  promptitude,  "  Bring  me  a  sword. 
Divide  the  living  child  into  two  parts,  and 
give  half  to  the  one,  and  half  to  the  other,"  1 
Kings  iii.  24,  2o.  Witness  the  profound  peace 
he  procured  for  his  subjects,  and  which  made 
the  sacred  historian  say,  that  "  Judah  and 
Israel  dwell  safely,  every  nian  under  his  vine, 
and  under  his  fig-tree,"  iv.  25.  Witness  the 
eulogiuin  of  t!)e  sacred  writings  on  this  sub- 
ject, "  that  it  excelled  the  wis<lom  of  all  the 
children  of  the  east,  and  all  the  wisdom  of 
Egypt;  that  he  was  wiser  than  Ethan,  than 
Herman,  than  Ciialcol,  and  Darda;"  that  is  to 
say,  he  was  wiser  than  every  man  of  his  own  age. 
Witness  the  embas-sies  from  all  the  kings  of  tlie 
earth  to  heat  his  wisdom.  ^Vitness  the  accla- 
mation of  the  queen,  who  came  from  the  re- 
motest kingdom  of  the  eartli  to  hear  this  pro- 
digy of  wisdom.  "  It  was  a  true  report  that  I 
heard  in  mine  own  land  of  thy  wisdom,  and 
behold,  the  half  was  not  told  me.  Thy  wis- 
dom and  pros|)erity  e.vceedeih  the  fame  which 
I  heard.  Happy  are  these  thy  men,  happy  are 
these  thy  servants,  which  stand  continually 
before  tliee,  and  that  hear  thy  wisdom,"  1 
Kings  X.  6 — 8. 

And  in  virtue  of  this  other  promise,  "  I  have 
given  thee  glory  and  riches;"  we  see  Solomon 
raise  superb  edifices,  form  powerful  alliances, 
and  sway  the  sceptre  over  every  prince,  from 
the  river  even  unto  the  land  of  the  Philistines, 
that  is,  from  the  Euphrates  to  the  eastern 
branch  of  the  Nile,  which  separates  Palestine 
from  Egypt,  and  making  gold  as  plentiful  in 


346 


ON  THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON. 


[Ser.  XCI. 


Jerusalem  as  stones,  2  Cliron.  ix.  26;  1  Chron. 
i.  15. 

It  would  bo  easy  to  extend  these  reflections, 
but  were  I  to  confine  myself  to  this  alone,  I 
siiould  fear  being  cliarged  with  having  evaded 
the  most  difficult  part  of  the  subject  to  dwell 
on  that  which  is  sufficiently  ])laiii.  The  e.v- 
traordinary  condescension  whii:h  God  evinced 
towards  Solomon;  the  divine  gifts  with  which 
he  was  endowed,  the  answer  to  his  prayer, 
"  I  have  given  thee  an  understanding  heart," 
collectively  involve  a  difficulty  of  the  most  se- 
rious kind.  How  shall  we  reconcile  the  fa- 
vours with  the  events?  How  could  a  man  so 
wise  commit  those  faults,  and  perpetrate  tiiose 
crimes,  which  stained  his  lustre  at  the  close  of 
life?  How  could  he  follow  the  haughty  license 
of  oriental  princes,  who  displayed  a  haram 
crowded  with  concubines?  How,  in  abandon- 
ing his  heart  to  sensual  pleasure,  could  he 
abandon  his  faith  and  his  religion?  And  after 
having  the  baseness  to  offer  incense  to  their 
beauty,  could  he  also  oiler  incense  to  their 
idols?  I  meet  this  question  with  the  greater 
pleasure,  as  the  solution  we  shall  give  will  de- 
monstrate, Jlfst,  the  difficulties  of  superior  en- 
dowments; secondly,  the  danger  of  bad  company; 
thirdly,  the  peril  of  human  grandeur;  andfourtli- 
ly,  the  poison  of  voluptuousness;  four  important 
lessons  by  which  this  discourse  shall  close. 

First,  the  responsibility  attendant  on  superior 
talents.  Can  we  suppose  that  God,  on  the  in- 
vestiture of  Solomon  witii  s\iperior  endow- 
ments, exempted  him  from  the  law  which  re- 
quires men  of  the  humblest  talents  to  improve 
them?  What  is  implied  in  these  words,  "  1 
have  given  thee  understanding?"  Uo  they 
mean,  I  take  solely  on  myself  the  work  of  thy 
salvation,  that  thou  mayest  live  without  re- 
straint in  negligence  and  pleasure?  Brave  tiie 
strongest  temptations;  I  will  obstruct  thy  fall- 
ing? Open  thy  heart  to  the  most  seductive  ob- 
jects; I  will  interpose  my  buckler  for  tiiy  pre- 
servation and  defence? 

On  this  subject,  my  brethren,  some  minis- 
ters have  need  of  a  total  reform  in  their  creed, 
and  to  abjure  a  system  of  theology,  if  I  may  so 
dare  to  speak,  inconceivably  absurd.  Some 
men  have  formed  notions  of  1  know  not  what 
grace,  which  takes  wholly  on  itself  the  work 
of  our  salvation,  which  suficrs  us  to  sleep  as 
much  as  we  choose  in  the  arms  of  concupis- 
cence and  pleasure,  and  which  redoubles  its 
aids  in  proportion  as  the  sinner  redoubles  re- 
sistance. Undeceive  yourselves.  God  never 
yet  bestowed  a  talent  without  requiring  its 
cultivation.  The  higher  are  our  endowments, 
the  greater  are  our  responsibilities.  The  greater 
efforts  grace  makes  to  save  us,  the  more  should 
we  labour  at  our  salvation.  The  more  it 
watches  for  our  good,  the  more  we  are  called 
to  the  exercise  of  vigilance.  You — you  who 
surpass  your  neighbour,  in  knowledge,  tremble; 
an  account  will  be  reipiired  of  that  superior 
light.  You, — you  who  have  more  of  genius 
than  the  most  of  men,  tremble;  an  account 
will  be  required  of  that  genius.  You, — you 
who  have  most  advanced  in  the  grace  of  sancti- 
ficationv*remble;  an  account  will  bo  required 
of  that  grace.  Do  you  call  this  truth  in  ques- 
tion? Go, — go  SCO  it  excinjilificd  in  the  person 
of  Solomon.     Go,  and  see  the  abyss  into  which 


he  fell  by  burying  his  talents.  Go,  and  see 
this  man  endowed  with  talents  superior  to  all 
the  world.  Go,  and  see  him  enslaved  by  seven 
hundred  wives,  and  prostituted  to  three  hun- 
dred concubines.  Go,  see  him  prostrated  be- 
fore the  idol  of  the  Sidonians,  and  before  the 
abomination  of  the  Ammonites;  and  by  the 
awful  abyss  into  which  he  was  plunged  by  the 
neglect  of  his  talents,  learn  to  improve  yours 
with  sanctifying  fear. 

Our  second  solution  of  the  difficulty  proposed, 
and  the  second  caution  we  would  derive  from 
the  fall  of  Solomon,  is  the  danger  of  bad  com- 
pany; and  a  caution  rendered  the  more  essen- 
tial by  the  inattention  of  the  age.  A  contagi- 
ous disease  whicii  extends  its  ravages  at  a  thou- 
sand miles,  excites  in  our  mind  terror  and 
alarm.  We  use  the  greatest  precaution  against 
tile  danger.  Wc  guard  the  avenues  of  the  state, 
and  lay  vessels  on  their  arrival  in  port  under 
the  strictest  quarantine:  we  do  not  suffer  our- 
selves to  be  approached  by  any  suspected  per- 
son. But  the  contagion  of  bad  company  gives 
us  not  the  smallest  alarm.  We  respire  without 
fear  an  air  the  most  impure  and  fatal  to  the 
soul.  We  form  connexions,  enter  into  engage- 
ments, and  contract  marriages  with  profane, 
sceptical,  and  worldly  people,  and  regard  all 
those  as  declaimers  and  enthusiasts  who  declare, 
that  "  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man- 
ners." But  see, — see  indeed,  by  the  sad  ex- 
perience of  Solomon,  whether  we  are  declaim- 
ers and  enthusiasts  when  we  talk  in  this  way. 
See  into  what  a  wretched  situation  we  are 
plunged  by  contracting  marriages  with  persons 
whose  religion  is  idolatrous,  and  wiiose  morals 
are  corruj)!.  Nothing  is  more  contagious  than 
bad  example.  The  sight,  the  presence,  the 
voice,  the  breath  of  the  wicked  is  infected  and 
fatal. 

The  danger  of  human  grandeur  is  a  new  so- 
lution of  the  difficulty  proposed,  and  a  third 
caution  we  derive  from  the  fall  of  Solomon. 
Mankind,  for  the  most  part,  have  a  brain  too 
weak  to  bear  a  liigli  scale  of  elevation.  Daz- 
zled at  once  with  the  rays  of  surrounding  lustre, 
they  can  no  longer  support  the  sight.  You 
are  astonished  that  Solomon,  this  prince,  who 
reigned  from  the  river  even  to  the  land  of  the 
riiilistines;  this  prince,  who  made  gold  in  his 
kingdom  as  plentiful  as  stones;  this  prince, 
who  was  surrounded  with  llatterers  and  cour- 
tezans; this  prince,  who  heard  nothing  but 
eulogy,  acclamation  and  applause,  you  arc  as- 
tonislied  that  he  should  be  tiius  intoxicated 
with  the  high  endowments  God  had  granted 
liiin  for  the  discharge  of  duty,  and  that  he 
should  so  far  forget  himself  as  to  fall  into  the 
enormities  just  described.  Seek  in  your  own 
heart,  and  in  your  life,  the  true  solution  of  this 
difficulty.  VVe  are  blinded  by  the  smallest 
prosjjcrity,  and  our  head  is  turned  by  the  least 
elevation  of  rank.  A  name,  a  title,  added  to 
our  dignity;  an  ac^c  of  land  added  to  our  estate, 
an  augmentation  of  etjuipage,  a  little  informa- 
tion added  to  our  knowledge,  a  wing  to  our 
mansion,  or  an  inch  to  our  stature,  and  here  is 
more  than  enough  to  give  us  high  notions  of 
our  own  consequence,  to  make  us  assume  a 
decisive  tone,  and  wish  to  be  considered  as 
oracles:  here  is  more  than  enough  to  make  us 
I  forget  our  ignorance,  our  weakness,  our  cor- 


Ser.  XCII.] 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


347 


ruption,  the  disease  wliich  consumes  us,  tlic 
tomb  which  awaits  us,  the  death  wliich  pursues 
us,  treading  on  our  heels,  the  sentence  already 
preparing,  and  tiic  account  which  God  is  about 
to  require.     Let  us  distrust  ourselves  in  pros- 

f)erity:  let  us  never  forget  what  we  are;  let  us 
lave  people  about  us  to  recall  its  recollection: 
let  us  request  our  friends  constantly  to  cry  in 
our  ears,  remember  that  you  are  loaded  with 
crimes;  that  you  arc  but  dust  and  ashes;  and 
in  the  midst  of  your  grandeur,  and  your  rank, 
remember  that  you  are  poor,  frail,  wretched, 
and  abject. 

4.  In  short,  the  beguiling  charms  of  pleasure 
are  the  first  solution  of  the  difficulty  proposed, 
and  the  last  instruction  we  derive  from  the  fall 
of  Solomon.  The  sacred  historian  has  not  over- 
looked this  cause  of  the  faults  of  this  prince. 
"  Solomon  loved  many  strange  women,  and 
they  turned  away  his  heart  from  the  Lord," 
1  Kings  xi.  1.3.  1  am  here  reminded  of  the 
wretched  mission  of  lîalaam.  Commanded  by 
powerful  princes,  allured  by  miignificent  re- 
wards, his  eyes  and  heart  already  devoured  the 
presents  which  awaited  his  services.  He  as- 
cended a  mountain,  he  surveyed  the  camp  of  the 
Israelites,  he  invoked  by  turns  the  power  of 
God's  Spirit,  and  the  power  of  the  devil.  Poind- 
ing that  prophecy  atlbrded  him  no  resource, 
ho  had  recourse  to  divinations  and  enchant- 
ments. Just  on  tlie  point  of  giving  full  effect 
to  his  detestable  art,  he  felt  himself  fettered  by 
the  force  of  truth,  and  exclaimed,  "  there  is  no 
enchantment  against  Jacob,  there  is  no  divina- 
tion against  Israel,"  Numb,  xxxiii.  23.  He 
temporized;  yes,  he  found  a  way  to  supersede 
all  the  prodigies  which  God  had  done  and  ac- 
complished for  his  people. — This  way  was  the 
way  of  pleasure.  It  was,  that  they  should  no 
more  attack  tho  Israelites  with  open  force,  but 
with  voluptuous  delights;  that  they  should  no 
more  send  among  them  wizards  and  enchant- 
ers, but  the  women  of  Midian,  to  allure  them 
to  their  sacrifices;  then  this  people,  before  in- 
vincible, 1  will  deliver  into  your  liands!  !  ! 

Of  the  success  of  this  advice,  my  brethren, 
you  cannot  be  ignorant.     But  why  fell  not 
every    Balaam    by   the    sword    of   Israelites! 
Numb.  xxxi.  8.     Why  were  the  awful  conse- 
quences of  this  counsel  restricted  to  the  un- 
happy culprits,  whom  the  holy  hands  of  I'hi- 
neas  and  Eleazar,  sacrificed  to  the  wrath  of 
Heaven!     David,  Solomon,  Samson,  and  you, 
my  brethren;  you  who  may  yet  preserve,  at 
least,  a  part  of  your  innocence.     Let  us  arm 
them  against  voluptuousness.     Let  us  distrust 
enchanting  pleasure.     Let  us  fear  it,  not  only 
when  it  presents  its  horrors;  not  only  when  it 
discovers  the  frightful  objects  which  follow  in 
its  train,  adultery,  incest,  treason,  apostacy, 
with  murder  and  assaiisination;  but  let  us  fear 
it,  when  clothed  in  the  garb  of  innocence,  when 
authorized  by  decent  freedoms,  and  assuming 
the  pretext  of  religious  sacrifices.     Let  us  ex- 
clude it  from  every  avenue  of  the  heart.     Let 
us  restrict   our   senses.     Let  us  mortify  our 
members  which   are   on   the   earth.     Let  us 
crucify  the  flesh  with  the  concupiscence.    And 
by  the  way  prescribed  in  the  gospel;  the  way 
of  retirement,  of  silence,  of  austerity,  of  the 
cross,  and  of  mortification,  let  us  attain  hap- 
piness, and  immortal  bliss.     May  God  grant 


us  the  grace.     To  him  bo  honour,  and  glory, 
for  ever.     Amen. 


SERMON  XCII. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 

I'readied  Nov.  20,  1720. 


MicAn  vi.  9. 
Jlear  ye  the  rod,  and  xcho  hal.h  appoinUd  it. 
AwFi'L  indeed  was  the  complaint  wliich 
Jeremiah  once  made  to  God  against  Israel: 
"O  Lord,  thou  hast  stricken  them,  but  they 
have  not  grieved;  thou  hast  consumed  them, 
but  they  liave  refused  to  receive  correction: 
they  have  made  their  faces  harder  than  a  rock," 
Jer.  V.  3.  Hero  is  a  view  of  the  last  period 
of  corruption;  for  however  insuperable  the  cor- 
ruption of  men  may  appear,  they  sin  less  by  en- 
mity than  dissipation.  Few  are  so  consummate- 
ly wicked  as  to  sin  solely  through  the  wanton- 
ness of  crime.  The  mind  is  so  constantly  at- 
tached to  exterior  objects,  as  to  be  wholly  ab- 
sorbed by  their  impression;  and  here  is  the 
ordinary  source  of  all  our  vice.  Have  we  some 
real,  or  some  imaginary  advantage?  The  idea 
of  our  superiority  engrosses  our  whole  atten- 
tion: and  hure  is  the  source  of  our  pride.  Are 
we  in  the  presence  of  an  object  congenial  to 
our  cupidity?  The  sentiment  of  pleasure  im- 
mediately fills  the  whole  capacity  of  tlie  soul; 
and  here  is  the  source  of  our  intemperance:  it 
is  the  same  with  every  vice.  Have  you  the 
art  of  fixing  the  attention  of  men,  of  recalling 
their  wandering  thoughts:  and  thereby  of  re- 
claiming them  to  duty;  you  will  acknowledge, 
that  the  beings  you  had  taken  for  monsters,  aro 
really  men,  who,  as  I  said,  sin  less  by  malice 
than  dissipation. 

But  of  all  the  means  calculated  to  produce 
the  recollection  so  essential  to  make  us  wise, 
adversity  is  tho  most  effectual.  How  should 
a  man  delight  his  heart  with  a  foolish  gran- 
deur; how  should  he  abandon  himself  to  pride, 
when  all  around  him  speaks  his  meanness  and 
impotency;  when  appalled  by  the  sight  of  a 
sovereign  judge,  and  burdened  by  his  heavy 
hand:  he  has  no  resource  but  liumility  and 
submission?  How  should  he  give  up  himself 
to  intemperance  when  afflicted  with  excruci- 
ating pains,  and  oppressed  with  the  approaches 
of  death?  When,  therefore,  adversity  is  uii- 
îivailing;  when  a  people  equally  resist  the  ter- 
rific warnings  of  the  prophet,  and  the  strokes 
of  God's  hand,  for  whom  he  speaks;  when  their 
corruption  is  proof  against  mortality,  against 
the  plague,  against  famine;  what  resource  re- 
mains for  their  conversion?  This  was,  how- 
ever, the  degree  of  hardness  to  which  the  Jews, 
in  Jeremiah's  time,  had  attained.  "  O  Lord, 
thou  hast  stricken  them,  but  they  have  not 
grieved;  thou  hast  consumed  them,  but  they 
have  refused  to  receive  instruction;  they  have 
made  their  faces  harder  than  a  rock." 

"O  Lord,  thou  hast  stricken  them."  My 
brethren,  the  first  part  of  our  prophet's  words 
is  now  accomjdished  in  our  country,  and  in  a 
very  terrific  manner.  Some  difference  the 
mercy  of  God  does  make  between  us,  and  those 
neighbouring  nations,  among  whom  the  plague 


348 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


[Ser.  XCU. 


is  making  so  dreadful  a  progress;  but  though 
our  horizon  is  not  yet  infected,  though  the 
breath  of  onr  hearers  is  not  yet  corrupt,  and 
thouçh  our  sln^cls  present  not  yet  to  our  view 
heaps  of  dead,  wiiose  mortal  exhalations, 
threaten  llie  hving,  and  to  wliose  burial,  those 
who  survive  arc  scarcely  Butticient,  we  are 
nevertheless  under  the  hand  of  God;  I  would 
say,  under  his  avenginjr  hand;  his  hand  already 
uplifted  to  plunge  us  into  the  abyss  of  national 
ruin.  What  else  are  tliose  plagues  which 
walk  in  our  streets?  What  is  this  mortality 
of  our  cattle  which  has  now  continued  so  many 
years?  what  else  is  this  suspension  of  credit, 
this  loss  of  trade,  this  ruin  of  so  many  families, 
and  so  many  more  on  tlie  brink  of  ruin?  "  O 
Lord,  thou  hast  stricken  tliem."  The  first  part 
then  is  but  too  awfully  accomplisiied  in  our 
country. 

I  should  deem  it  an  abuse  of  the  liberty  al- 
lowed me  in  tiiis  pulpit,  were  I  to  say,  without 
restriction,  that  the  second  is  likewise  accom- 
plished; "but  they  have  not  grieved."  The 
solemnity  of  the  day;  the  proclamation  of  our 
fast;  the  whole  of  these  provinces  prostrated  to- 
dayatthe  feet  of  the  MostHigli;  so  many  voices 
crying  to  Heaven,  "  O  tliou  sword  of  the  Lord, 
into.xicated  with  blood,  return  into  tiiy  scab- 
bard;" all  would  convict  mc  of  declamation,  if 
I  should  say,  "O  Lord  thou  hast  stricken  them, 
but  they  have  not  grieved." 

But,  my  brethren,  have  we  then  no  part  in 
this  reproach?  Do  we  feel  as  we  ouglit,  the 
calamities  that  God  halii  sent?  Come  to-day. 
Christians;  come  and  learn  of  our  projjhet  to 
hearken  to  the  voice  of  God.  Wiiat  voice?  the 
voice  strong  and  miglity;  the  voice  whicii  light- 
eneth  with  flames  of  fire;  the  loud  voice  of  his 
judgments.  "  Hear  ye  the  rod,  and  him  who 
hath  appointed  it." 

My  brethren,  on  the  hearing  of  this  voice, 
what  sort  of  requests  shall  we  make?  Shall  we 
not  sa}',  as  the  ancient  people,  "  Let  not  the 
Lord  speak  to  us  lest  we  die?"  No,  let  us  not 
adopt  this  language. — O  great  God,  the  con- 
tempt we  have  made  of  thy  staff*,  when  thy 
clemency  caused  us  to  repose  in  green  pastures, 
renders  essential  the  rod  of  thy  correction.  Now 
is  the  crisis  to  suffer,  or  to  perish.  Strike,  strike, 
Jjord,  provided  we  may  be  converted  and  saved. 
Speak  with  thy  lifjhtning;  speak  with  thy  thun- 
der; speak  with  thy  flaming  bolts;  but  teacli  us 
to  hear  thy  voice.  "  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  ser- 
vants hear."  And  you,  my  brethren,  "  Hear 
ye  the  rod,  and  him  wlio  hatii  appointed  it." 
Amen. 

This,  in  substance,  is, 

I.  To  feel  the  strokes  of  God's  hand: 

II.  To  trace  their  consequences  and  connex- 
ions: 

III.  To  examine  their  origin  and  causes. 

IV.  To  discover  their  resources  and  remedies. 
This  is  to  comply  with  the  exhortation  of  Mi- 
cah;  this  is  to  shelter  ourselves  from  the  charge 
of  Jeremiah;  tiiis  is  especially  to  comply  with 
the  design  of  tiiis  solemnity.  If  we  feel  the 
strokes  of  God's  liand,  we  shall  shake  off"  a  cer- 
tain state  of  indolence  in  which  many  of  us  are 
found,  and  be  clotlied  with  the  sentiments  of 
humiliation:  this  is  the  first  duly  of  the  day.  If 
we  trace  the  consequences  a/id  connexion  of 
our  calamities,  we  shall  bo  inspired  with  the 


sentiments  of  terror  and  awe:  this  is  the  second 
disposition  of  a  fast.  If  we  examine  their  origin 
and  cause,  we  shall  be  softened  with  sentiments 
of  sorrow  and  repentance:  this  is  the  third  dis- 
position of  a  fast.  If  we,  lastly,  discover  the 
remedies  and  resources,  we  shall  be  animated 
with  the  sentiments  of  genuine  conversion:  this 
is  the  fourth  disposition  of  a  fast.  It  is  by  re- 
flections of  this  kind  that  I  would  close  these 
solemn  duties,  and  make,  if  I  may  so  speak,  the 
applications  of  those  energetic  words  addressed 
to  us  by  the  servants  of  God  on  this  day. 

I.  "  Hear  ye  the  rod:"  feel  the  strokes  with 
which  you  are  already  struck.  There  is  one 
disposition  of  the  mind  which  may  be  con- 
founded with  that  we  would  wish  to  inspire. 
The  sensation  of  these  calamities  may  be  so 
strong  as  to  unnerve  the  understanding,  and 
overspread  the  mind  with  a  total  gloom  and  de- 
jection. The  soul  of  which  we  speak,  feasts  on 
its  grief,  and  is  wholly  absorbed  in  the  causes 
of  its  anguisl).  The  privation  of  a  good  once 
enjoyed,  renders  it  perfectly  indiflferent  as  to  the 
blessings  which  still  remain.  The  strokes  which 
God  has  inflicted,  appear  to  it  the  greatest  of 
all  calamities.  Neither  the  beauties  of  nature, 
nor  the  pleasures  of  conversation,  nor  the  mo- 
tives of  piety,  have  charms  adequate  to  extin- 
guish, nor  even  assuage  anguish  which  corrodes 
and  consumes  the  soul.  Hence  those  torrents 
of  tears;  hence  those  deep  and  frequent  sighs; 
hence  those  loud  and  bitter  complaints;  hence 
those  unqualified  augurs  of  disaster  and  ruin. 
To  feel  afflictions  in  this  way,  is  a  weakness  of 
mind  which  disqualifies  us  for  supporting  the 
sliglilest  reverses  of  life.  It  is  an  ingratitude 
which  obstructs  our  acknowledging  the  favours 
of  that  God,  who,  "  in  the  midst  of  wrath,  re- 
members mercy,"  and  who  never  so  far  afllicts 
his  creature,  as  to  deprive  him  of  reviving  hope. 

The  insensibility  we  wish  to  prevent,  is  a  vice 
directly  opposed  to  that  we  have  just  decried. 
It  is  the  insensibility  of  the  man  of  pleasure. 
He  must  enjoy  life;  but  nothing  is  more  strik- 
ingly calculated  to  correct  his  notions,  and  de- 
range the  system  of  present  pleasure,  than  this 
idea:  the  sovereign  of  the  universe  is  irritated 
affainst  us:  his  sword  is  suspended  over  our 
heads:  his  avenging  arm  is  making  awful  havoc 
around  us:  thousands  have  already  fallen  be- 
neath his  strokes  on  our  right,  and  ten  thousand 
on  our  left,  Ps.  xci.  7.  VVe  banish  these  ideas: 
but  this  being  diflicult  to  do,  we  repose  behind 
intrenchments  which  they  cannot  penetrate; 
and  by  augmenting  the  confusion  of  the  pas- 
sions, we  endeavour  to  divert  our  attention  from 
the  calamities  of  the  public. 

The  insensibility  we  wish  to  prevent,  is  a  phi- 
losophical apathy.  We  brave  adversity.  We 
fortify  ourselves  with  a  stoical  firmness.  We 
account  it  wise,  superior  wisdom  to  be  unmoved 
by  the  greatest  catiistrophes.  We  enshroud  the 
mind  in  an  ill-named  virtue;  and  we  pique  our- 
selves on  the  vain  glory  of  being  unmoved, 
tliougli  the  universe  were  dissolved. 

The  insensibility  we  wish  to  prevent  is  that 
which  arises  from  a  stupid  ignorance.  Some 
men  are  naturally  more  difficult  to  be  moved 
than  the  brutes  destitute  of  reason.  They  are 
resolved  to  remain  where  they  are,  until  extri- 
cated by  an  exterior  cause;  and  these  are  the 
very  men  who  resist  that  cause.     They  shut 


Ser.  XCIL] 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


349 


their  eyes  against  the  avenues  of  alarm;  they 
harden  their  hearts  against  calamities  by  the 
mere  dint  of  reason,  or  rather  by  the  mere  in- 
stinct of  nature;  because  if  seriously  regarded, 
some  efforts  would  be  required  to  avert  the  vi- 
sitation. 

But  whether  God  afilict  us  in  love,  or  strike 
in  wrath;  wheliier  he  afilict  us  for  instruction, 
or  chasten  us  for  correction,  our  first  duty  un- 
der the  rod  is  to  acknowledge  the  equity  of  his 
hand. 

Does  he  aftlict  us  for  the  exercise  of  our  re- 
signation and  our  patience?  To  correspond  with 
his  design,  we  must  acknowledge  the  equity  of 
his  hand.  Wc  must  each  say.  It  is  true,  my 
fortune  fluctuates,  my  credit  is  injured,  and  my 
prospects  are  frustrated;  but  it  is  the  great  Dis- 
poser of  all  events  who  has  assorted  my  lot;  it 
is  my  Lord  and  Ruler.  O  God,  "  thy  will  be 
done,  and  not  mine.  I  was  dumb,  and  opened 
not  my  mouth,  because  it  was  thy  doing,"  Matt, 
^xvi.  39;  Ps.  xx.\ix.  9. 

Does  he  afflict  us  in  order  to  put  our  love  to 
the  proof.'  To  correspond  with  his  design,  we 
must  acknowledge  the  equity  of  his  hand.  We 
must  learn  to  say,  "  I  think  that  God  has  made 
us  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  to  angels,  and  to 
men.  If  in  this  life  only  we  have  hope  in  Christ, 
we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable."  O  God! 
"  though  thou  slay  me,  yet  will  1  trust  in  thee," 
1  Cor.  iv.  9;  xv.  19;  Job  xiii.  15. 

Does  he  afflict  us  in  order  to  detach  us  from 
the  world?  To  correspond  with  his  design,  we 
must  acknowledge  the  equity  of  his  hand.  It 
is  requisite  that  this  son  should  die,  who  con- 
stitutes the  sole  enjoyment  of  our  life;  it  is  re- 
quisite that  we  should  feel  the  anguish  of  the 
disease  to  which  we  are  exposed;  it  is  requisite 
this  health  should  fail,  without  which  the  asso- 
ciation of  every  pleasure  is  insipid  and  obtrusive, 
that  we  may  learn  to  place  our  happiness  in  the 
world  to  come,  and  not  establish  our  hopes  in 
this  valley  of  tears. 

Does  he  afflict  us  to  make  manifest  the  enor- 
mity of  vice?  To  correspond  with  his  design, 
we  must  acknowledge  the  equity  of  his  hand. 
We  must  acknowledge  the  horrors  of  the  ob- 
jects our  passions  had  painted  with  such  be- 
guiling tints.  Amid  the  anguish  consequent  on 
crimes,  we  must  put  the  question  to  ourselves 
which  St.  Paul  put  to  the  Romans;  "  What 
fruits  had  you  then  in  those  things,  whereof  you 
are  now  ashamed?  For  the  end  of  those  things 
is  death."  Sensibility  of  the  strokes  God  has 
already  inflicted  by  his  rod,  was  the  first  dis- 
position of  mind  which  Micah  in  his  day,  re- 
quired of  the  Jews. 

If  you  ask  what  those  strokes  were  with  which 
God  afflicted  the  Israelites,  it  is  not  easy  to  give 
you  satisfaction.  The  correctest  researches  of 
chronology  do  not  mark  the  e.xact  period  in 
which  IVficah  delivered  the  words  of  my  text. 
We  know  only  that  he  exercised  his  ministry 
under  three  kings,  under  Jotham,  under  Ahaz, 
under  Hezekiah;  and  that  under  each  of  these 
kings,  God  afflicted  the  kingdom  of  Judah,  and 
of  Israel  with  severe  strokes. — And  the  solem- 
nities of  the  present  day  excuse  me  from  the 
laws,  binding  to  a  commentator,  of  illustrating 
a  text  in  all  the  original  views  of  the  author. 
We  must  neither  divert  our  feelings  nor  divide 
our  attention,  between  the  calamities  God  sent  I 


on  Judah  and  Israel,  and  those  he  has  sent  on 
us.  We  exhort  you  to  sensibility  concerning 
the  visitations  of  Providence:  four  ministers  of 
•the  God  of  vengeance  address  you  with  a  voice 
more  loud  and  pathetic  than  mine.  These  mi- 
nisters arc,  the  tempests;  the  murrain;  the 
plague;  and  the  spirit  of  indifl^erence. 

The  first  minister  of  the  God  of  vengeance  is 
the  tempest.  Estimate,  if  you  are  able,  the  de- 
vastations made  by  the  tempest  during  the  last 
ten  years;  the  districts  they  have  ravaged;  the 
vessels  they  have  wrecked;  the  inundations  they 
have  occasioned;  and  the  towns  they  have  laid 
under  water.  Would  you  not  have  thought 
that  the  earth  was  about  to  return  to  its  original 
chaos;  tliat  the  sea  had  broke  the  bounds  pre- 
scribed by  the  Creator;  and  that  the  earth  had 
ceased  to  be  "  balanced  on  its  poles.''"  Job 
xxxviii.  6. 

The  second  minister  of  the  God  of  vengeance, 
exciting  alarm,  is  the  mortality  of  our  cattle. 
The  mere  approaches  of  this  calamity  filled  us 
with  terror,  and  became  the  sole  subjects  of  con- 
versation. Your  sovereign  appointed  public 
prayers  and  solemn  humiliations,  to  avert  the 
scourge.  Your  preachers  made  extraordinary 
efforts,  entreating  you  to  enter  into  the  design 
of  God,  who  had  sent  it  upon  us.  But  to  what 
may  not  men  become  accustomed?  We  some- 
times wonder  how  they  can  enjoy  the  least  re- 
pose in  places  where  the  earth  often  quakes; 
wliere  its  dreadful  jaws  open;  where  a  black  vo- 
lume of  smoke  obscures  the  light  of  heaven; 
where  mountains  of  flame,  from  subterranean 
caverns,  rise  to  the  highest  clouds,  and  descend 
in  liquid  rivers  on  houses,  and  on  whole  towns. 
Let  us  seek  in  ourselves  the  solution  of  a  diffi- 
culty suggested  by  the  insensibility  of  others. 
We  are  capable  of  accustoming  ourselves  to  any 
thing.  Were  we  to  judge  of  the  impressions 
future  judgments  would  produce  by  the  effects 
produced  by  those  God  has  already  sent,  we 
should  harden  our  hearts  against  both  pestilence 
and  famine;  we  should  attend  concerts,  though 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  the  groans  of 
dying  men,  and  join  the  public  games  in  pre- 
sence of  the  destroying  angel  sent  to  extermi- 
nate the  nation. 

The  third  minister  of  God's  vengeance,  ex- 
citing us  to  sensibility,  is  the  plague,  which  ra- 
vages a  neighbouring  kingdom.  Your  provinces 
do  not  subsist  of  themselves;  they  have  an  inti- 
mate relation  with  all  the  states  of  Europe. 
And  such  is  the  nature  of  their  constitution, 
that  they  not  only  suffer  from  the  prosperity, 
but  even  from  the  adversity,  of  their  enemies. 
But  what  do  I  say?  from  tlieir  enemies!  The 
people  whom  God  has  now  visited  with  this 
awful  scourge,  are  not  our  enemies;  they  are 
our  allies;  they  are  our  brethren;  they  are  our 
fellow-countrymen.  The  people  on  whom  God 
has  laid  his  hand  in  so  terrible  a  manner,  is  the 
kingdom  which  gave  some  of  us  birth,  and 
which  still  contains  persons  to  whom  we  are 
united  by  the  tenderest  ties.  Every  stroke  this 
kingdom  receives,  recoils  on  ourselves,  and  it 
cannot  fall  without  involving  us  in  its  ruins. 

The  fourth  minister  of  the  tjrod  of  vengeance, 
which  calls  for  consideration,  is  the  spirit  of 
slumber.  It  would  seem  that  God  had  desig- 
nated our  own  hands  to  be  our  own  ruin.  It 
would  seem  tliat  he  had  given  a  demon  from 


350 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


[Ser.  XCII 


the  depths  of  hell  a  commission  like  that  granted 
to  tlie  spirit  mentioned  in  the  first  Book  of 
Kino-s.  "  The  Lord  said,  who  shall  persuade 
Ahab  that  he  may  go  up  and  fall  at  Jlamotli-. 
Gilead?  And  there  came  forth  a  spirit,  and  said, 
I  will  persuade  him.  And  the  Lord  said.  Yea, 
thou  shalt  persuade  him,  and  prevail,"  xxii.  20. 
22.  Yea,  a  spirit  who  has  sworn  the  overthrow 
of  our  families,  the  ruin  of  our  arts  and  manu- 
factures, tiie  destruction  of  our  commerce,  and 
the  loss  of  our  credit,  this  spirit  lias  fascinated 
us  all.  He  seizes  the  great  and  the  small,  the 
court  and  the  city.  But  I  abridge  my  intentions 
on  this  subject;  1  yield  to  the  reasons  which  for- 
bid my  extending  to  farther  detail.  To  feel  the 
strokes  of  God's  hand,  is  most  assuredly  the  first 
duty  he  requires.  "  Hear  ye  the  rod,  and  who 
hath  appointed  it." 

n.  Tliis  rod  requires  us,  seconiUij,  to  trace 
the  causes  and  the  origin  of  our  calamities. 
Micah  wished  the  Jews  to  comprehend  that 
the  miseries  under  which  they  groaned  were  a 
consequence  of  their  crimes.  We  would  wish 
you  to  form  the  same  judgment  of  yours.  But 
here  the  subject  has  its  dillicultics.  Under  a 
pretence  of  entering  into  the  spirit  of  humilia- 
tion, there  is  danger  of  our  falling  into  the 
puerilities  of  superstition.  Few  subjects  arc 
more  fertile  in  erroneous  conclusions  than  this 
subject.  Temporal  prosperity  and  adversity 
are  very  equivocal  marks  of  the  favour  and  dis- 
pleasure of  God.  If  some  men  are  so  wilfully 
blind  as  not  to  see  that  a  particular  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  is  productive  of  certain  pun- 
ishments, there  are  others  who  fancy  that  they 
every  where  see  a  particular  providence.  Tlie 
commonest  occurrences,  however  closely  con- 
nected with  secondary  causes,  seem  to  them 
the  result  of  an  extraordinary  counsel  in  him 
who  holds  the  helm  of  the  world.  The  slight- 
est adversity  they  regard  as  a  stroke  of  his  an- 
gry arm.  Generally  speaking,  we  should  al- 
ways recollect  that  tiie  conduct  of  Providence 
is  involved  in  clouds  and  darkness.  We  should 
form  the  criterion  of  our  guilt  or  innocence  not 
by  the  exterior  prosperity  or  adversity  sent  of 
God,  but  by  our  obedience  or  disobedience  to 
his  word;  and  we  should  habituate  ourselves  to 
see,  without  surprise  in  this  world,  the  wicked 
prosperous,  and  the  righteous  aillicted. 

But  notwithstanding  the  obscurity  in  which 
it  has  pleased  God  to  involve  his  ways,  there 
arc  cases,  in  which  we  cannot  witiiout  impiety 
refuse  assent,  that  adversity  is  increased  by 
crimes.  It  is  peculiarly  apparent  in  two  cases: 
first,  when  there  is  a  natural  connexion  between 
the  crimes  you  have  committed,  and  the  ca- 
lamities wc  sulfcr:  the  second  is,  when  tlie  great 
calamities  immediately  follow  the  perpetration 
of  enormous  crimes.     Let  us  explain: 

First,  we  cannot  doubt  that  punishment  is  a 
consequence  of  crime,  when  there  is  an  essen- 
tial tie  between  the  crime  we  have  conmiitted, 
and  the  calamity  we  sufier.  One  of  the  finest 
proofs  of  the  lioliness  of  the  God,  to  wliom  all 
creatures  owe  their  preservation  and  being,  is 
derived  from  the  harmony  ho  has  placed  be- 
tween happiness  and  virtue.  Trace  this  har- 
mony in  the  circles  of  society,  and  in  private 
life.  1.  In  private  life.  An  enlightened  mind 
can  find  no  solid  happiness  but  in  the  exercise 
of  virtue.     The  passions  may  indeed  excite  a 


transient  satisfaction;  but  a  state  of  violence 
cannot  be  permanent.  Each  passion  offers  vio- 
lence to  some  faculty  of  the  soul,  to  which  that 
faculty  is  abandoned.  The  happiness  procured 
by  the  passions  is  founded  on  mistake:  the  mo- 
ment the  soul  recovers  recollection,  the  happi- 
ness occasioned  by  error  is  dissipated.  The 
happiness  ascribed  to  ayarice  is  grounded  on 
the  same  mistake:  it  is  couched  in  this  princi- 
ple, that  gold  and  silver  are  the  true  riches: 
and  the  moment  that  the  soul  which  establish- 
ed its  happiness  on  a  false  principle  becomes 
enlightened;  the  moment  it  investigates  the 
numerous  cases  in  which  riches  are  not  only 
useless,  but  destructive,  it  loses  the  happiness 
founded  on  mistake.  We  may  reason  in  the 
same  manner  concerning  the  other  passions. 
There  is  then  in  the  soul  of  every  man  a  har- 
mony between  happiness  and  virtue,  misery 
and  crime. 

2.  This  harmony  is  equally  found  in  the 
great  circles  of  national  society.  I  am  not 
wholly  unacquainted  with  the  maxims  which 
a  false  polity  would  advance  on  the  subject.  I 
am  not  ignorant  of  what  Hobbes,  Machiavel, 
and  their  disciples,  ancient  and  modern,  have 
said.  And  I  frankly  confess,  that  I  feel  the 
force  of  the  difliculties  opposed  to  this  general 
thesis,  of  the  happiness  of  nations  being  insepa- 
rable from  their  innocence.  But  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  difficulties  of  which  the  thesis  is 
susceptible,  I  think  myself  able  to  maintain, 
and  prove,  that  all  public  happiness  founded 
on  crime,  is  like  the  happiness  of  the  individual 
just  described.  It  is  a  state  of  violence,  which 
cannot  be  permanent.  From  the  sources  of 
those  same  vices  on  which  a  criminal  polity 
would  found  the  happiness  of  the  state,  pro- 
ceeds a  long  train  of  calamities  which  are  evi- 
dently productive  of  total  ruin. 

Without  encumbering  ourselves  with  these 
discussions,  without  reviving  this  controversy, 
the  better  to  keep  in  view  the  grand  objects 
of  the  day,  I  affirm,  that  the  calamities  under 
which  we  groan  are  the  necessary  consequence 
of  our  crimes;  and  in  such  sort,  that  though 
there  were  no  God  of  vengeance  who  holds  the 
helm  of  the  universe,  no  judge  ready  to  exe- 
cute justice,  our  degeneracy  into  every  vice 
would  suffice  to  involve  our  country  in  misery. 
Under  what  evils  do  we  now  groan.'  Is  it 
because  our  name  is  less  respected?  Is  it  be- 
cause our  credit  is  less  established?  Is  it  be- 
cause our  armies  are  less  formidable?  Is  it  be- 
cause our  union  is  less  compact?  But  whence 
do  these  calamities  proceed?  Are  they  the 
mysteries  of  "a  God,  who  hideth  himself?" 
Are  they  strokes  inflicted  by  an  invisible  hand? 
Or  are  they  the  natural  eftects  and  consequen- 
ces of  our  crimes.'  Does  it  require  miracles  to 
produce  tiicm?  If  so,  miracles  would  be  requi- 
site to  prevent  them.  INIen  of  genius,  pro- 
found statesmen,  you  who  send  us  to  our  books, 
and  to  the  dust  of  our  closets,  when  we  talk 
of  Providence,  and  of  plagues  inflicted  by  an 
avcnnrin"'  God,  I  summon  your  speculation  and 
superior  information  to  this  one  point;  "  our 
destruction  is  of  ourselves:"  and  the  Judge  of 
the  universe  has  no  need  to  punish  our  crimes 
but  by  our  crimes. 

I  have  said,  in  the  second  place,  that  great 
calamities  foUowuig  great  crimes,  ought  to  be 


Ser.  XCIL] 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


351 


regarded  as  their  punishment.  And  shall  we 
refuse,  in  tiiis  day  of  humiliation,  ascribing  to 
this  awful  cause  the  strokes  witli  wliicli  we  are 
afflicted?  Cast  your  eyes  for  a  moment  on  tiie 
nature  of  tiie  crimes  which  reproacii  tlicse  pro- 
vinces. All  nations  have  their  vices,  and  vices 
in  which  they  resemble  one  another;  all  nations 
afford  the  justcst  cause  for  reprehension.  Read 
the  various  books  of  morality;  consult  tlie  ser- 
mons delivered  among  the  most  enlightened 
nations,  and  you  will  every  wiiere  sec  that  tiie 
great  are  proud,  the  poor  impatient,  the  aged 
covetous,  the  young  voluptuous,  and  so  of 
every  class.  Meanwiiile  all  sorts  of  vice  have 
not  a  resemblance.  Weigh  a  passage  in  Deu- 
teronomy in  whicli  you  will  find  a  distinction 
between  sin  and  sin,  and  a  distinction  worthy 
of  peculiar  regard.  "  Their  spot,"  says  Moses, 
"  is  not  the  spot  of  the  children  of  God,"  xxxii. 
5.  There  is  tlien  a  spot  of  the  children  of  God, 
and  a  spot  which  is  not  of  his  children.  There 
arc  infirmities  found  among  a  people  dear  to 
God,  and  there  are  defects  incompatible  with 
his  people.  To  receive  the  sacrament  of  the 
Eucharist,  but  not  with  all  the  veneration  re- 
quired by  so  august  a  mystery;  to  celebrate 
days  of  humiliation,  but  not  with  all  the  deep 
repentance  we  should  bring  to  these  solemni- 
ties; tiiese  are  great  spots;  but  they  are  spots 
common  to  the  cliildren  of  God.  To  fall, 
however,  as  the  ancient  Israelites,  whose  eyes 


with  whicli  wo  are  struck,  is  to  develop  their 
consequences  and  connexions.  Some  calami- 
ties are  less  formidable  in  themselves  than  in 
the  awful  consequences  they  produce.  There 
are  "  deeps  which  call  unto  deeps  at  the  noise 
of  God's  water-spouts,"  Ps.  xlii.  8;  and  to  sum 
up  all  in  one  word,  there  are  calamities  whose 
distinguished  characteristic  is  to  be  the  fore- 
runners of  calamities  still  more  terrible.  Such 
was  the  character  of  those  inflicted  on  the  king- 
dom of  Judah  and  of  Israel  in  Micah's  time,  as 
is  awfully  proved  by  tiio  ruin  of  both. 

Is  tliis  the  idea  we  should  form  of  the  plagues 
with  whicli  we  are  struck?  Never  was  question 
more  serious  and  interesting,  my  brethren;  and, 
at  the  same  time,  never  was  question  more  deli- 
cate and  diflicult.  Do  not  fear,  tliat  forgetting 
tiie  limits  with  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
circumscribe  our  knowledge,  we  are  about  with 
a  profane  hand  to  raise  the  veil  which  conceals 
futurity,  and  pronounce  with  temerity  awful 
predictions  on  the  destiny  of  these  provinces. 
We  shall  merely  mark  the  signs  by  which  the 
prophet  would  have  the  ancient  people  to  un- 
derstand, that  the  plagues  God  had  ahready  in- 
flicted were  but  harbingers  of  those  about  to 
follow.  Supply  by  your  own  reflections,  the 
cautious  silence  we  shall  observe  on  this  sub- 
ject: examine  attentively  what  connexion  may 
exist  between  calamities  we  now  suffer,  and 
those  which  made  the  ancient  Jews  expect  a 


were  still  struck  with  the  miracles  wrought  on  ,|^total  overthrow.     And  those  signs  of  an  im- 


tlieir  leaving  Egypt;  "  to  change  the  glory  of 
God  into  tlie  similitude  of  an  ox  that  eateth 
grass;  and  to  raise  a  profane  shout.  These  be 
thy  gods,  O  Israel,  which  have  brought  thee 
up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,"  is  a  spot,  but 
not  "the  spot  of  the  children  of  God,"  Exod. 
xxxii.  8. 

Now,  my  brethren,  can  you  cast  your  eyes 
on  these  provinces,  without  recognising  a  num- 
ber of  sins  of  the  latter  class?  In  some  fami- 
lies, the  education  of  youth  is  so  astonishingly 
neglected,  that  we  see  parents  training  up  their 
children  for  the  first  offices  of  the  republic,  for 
offices  which  decide  the  honour,  the  fortune, 
and  the  lives  of  men,  without  so  much  as  initi- 
ating tiieni  into  the  sciences,  essentially  requi- 
site for  the  adequate  discharge  of  professional 
duties.  Profaneness  is  so  prevalent,  and  indif- 
ference for  the  homage  we  pay  to  God  is  so 
awful,  that  we  see  people  passing  whole  years 
without  ever  entering  our  sanctuaries;  me- 
chanics publicly  follow  their  labour  on  the  sab- 
bath; women  in  the  polished  circles  of  society 
choose  the  hour  of  our  worsliip  to  pay  their 
visits,  and  expose  card-tables,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
in  the  sight  of  our  altars.  Infidelity  is  so  rife, 
that  tlie  presses  groan  with  works  to  immorta- 
lize blasphemies  against  the  being  of  God,  and 
to  sap  tlie  foundation  of  public  morals.  How 
easy  would  it  be  to  swell  this  catalogue!  My 
brethren,  on  a  subject  so  awful,  let  us  not  de- 
ceive ourselves;  these  are  not  the  spots  of  the 
cliildren  of  God;  they  are  tiie  very  crimes 
which  bring  upon  nations,  the  malediction  of 
God,  and  which  soon  or  late  occasion  their  to- 
tal overthrow. 

III.  To  feel  the  calamities  under  which  we 
now  groan,  and  to  trace  their  origin  is  not 
enough:  we  must  anticipate  the  future:  the 
third  sort  of  regard  required  for  the  strokes 


pending  calamity  are  less  alarming  in  them- 
selves, than  the  dispositions  of  the  people  on 
whom  they  are  inflicted. 

1.  One  calamity  is  the  forerunner  of  a  great- 
er, when  the  people  whom  God  afflicts  have 
recourse  to  second  causes  instead  of  the  first 
cause;  and  when  they  seek  the  redress  of  their 
calamities  in  political  resources,  and  not  in  re- 
ligion. This  is  the  portrait  which  Isaiah  gives 
of  Sennacherib's  first  expedition  against  Judea. 
Tlie  prophet  recites  it  in  the  twenty-second 
chapter  of  his  book.  "  He  discovered  the  co- 
vering of  Judah,  and  thou  didst  look  in  that 
day  to  the  armour  of  the  liouse  of  the  forest. 
Ye  have  seen  also  the  breaches  of  the  city  of 
David,  that  they  are  many:  and  ye  gathered 
together  the  waters  of  the  lower  pool.  And 
ye  have  numbered  the  house  of  Jerusalem,  and 
the  houses  have  yc  broken  down  to  fortify  the 
wall.  Ye  made  also  a  ditch  between  the  two 
walls,  for  the  water  of  the  old  pool;  but  ye 
have  not  looked  unto  the  Maker  thereof,  nei- 
ther have  ye  had  respect  unto  him  that  fa- 
sliioncd  it  long  ago.  And  in  that  day  did  the 
Lord  God  of  Hosts  call  to  weeping  and  to 
mourning,  and  to  plucking  of  the  hair,  and  to 
girding  with  sackcloth.  And  beliold,  joy  and 
gladness,  slaying  oxen  and  killing  sheep,  eating 
flesh,  and  drinking  wine:  let  us  eat  and  drink 
for  to-morrow  we  shall  die.  And  it  was  re- 
vealed in  mine  cars  by  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  sure- 
ly this  iniquity  shall  not  be  purged  from  you." 
It  belongs  to  you  to  make  the  application  of 
this  passage;  it  belongs  to  you  to  inquire  what 
resemblance  our  present  conduct  may  have  to 
that  of  tlie  Jews  in  a  similar  situation.  Whe- 
ther it  is  to  the  first  cause  you  have  had  re- 
course for  the  removal  of  your  calamities,  or 
whetlier  you  have  solely  adhered  to  second 
causes?  whether  it  is  the  maxims  of  rcUgion 


353 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


[Ser.  XCII. 


jou  have  consulted,  or  the  maxims  of  pohcy? 
whether  it  is  a  barrier  you  have  pretended  to 
put  to  the  war,  to  the  pestilence,  and  famine; 
or  whether  you  have  put  one  to  injustice,  to 
hatred,  to  fornication,  and  to  fraud,  tlie  causes 
of  those  calamities! 

2.  One  calamity  is  the  forerunner  of  great- 
er calamities,  when  instead  of  liuniiliation  on 
the  reception  of  the  warnings  God  sends  by 
his  servants,  we  turn  those  warnings  into  con- 
tempt. By  this  sign,  the  author  of  the  second 
Book  of  Chronicles  wished  the  Jews  to  under- 
stand that  their  impiety  had  attained  its  height. 
"  The  Lord  God  of  their  fathers  sent  unto 
them  by  his  messengers,  rising  up  betimes  and 
sending;  because  he  had  compassion  on  his 
people;  but  they  mocked  the  messengers  of 
God;  they  despised  his  word,  and  misused  his 
prophets,  until  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  arose 
against  his  people,  so  that  there  was  no  re- 
medy," xxxvii.  15,  16. 

My  brethren,  it  is  your  duty  to  inquire  how 
far  you  are  affected  by  this  doctrine.  It  is 
your  duty  to  examine  whether  your  present 
desolating  calamities  are  characterized  as  har- 
bingers of  greater  evils.  Do  you  discover  a 
teachable  disposition  towards  the  messengers 
of  God  who  would'  open  your  eyes  to  see  the 
effects  of  his  indignation;  or,  do  you  revolt 
against  their  word.'  Do  you  love  to  be  re- 
proved and  corrected,  or  do  you  resemble  the 


incorrigible  man  of  whom  the  prophet  says,j  heaven  as  iron,  and  your  earth  as  brass.     And 


thou  hatest  instruction,"  Ps.  1.  17.  What  a 
humiliating  subject,  my  brethren,  what  an  aw- 
ful touchstone  of  our  misery! 

3.  One  calamity  is  the  forerunner  of  great- 
er calamities,  when  the  anguish  it  excites  pro- 
ceeds more  from  the  loss  of  our  perishable 
riches  than  from  sentiments  of  the  insults  of- 
fered to  God.  This  sign,  the  prophet  Hosea 
gave  to  the  inhabitants  of  Samaria,  "  Though 
1  have  redeemed  tiiém,"  says  he,  speaking  for 
God,  "  they  have  not  cried  unto  me  with  their 
heart,  when  they  howled  upon  their  beds." 
It  was  for  corn  and  wine,  tliat  tliey  cut  them- 
selves when  they  assembled  together;  or  as 
migiit  be  better  rendered,  when  tiiey  assem- 
bled for  devotion.*  Examine  again,  or  rather 
censure  a  subject  wliich  presents  the  mind  with 
a  question  less  for  inquiry  than  for  the  admis- 
sion of  a  fact  already  decided.  We  would  in- 
terrupt our  business;  we  would  suspend  our 
pleasures;  we  would  shed  our  tears;  we  would 
celebrate  fasts  on  the  recollection  of  our 
crimes,  provided  we  could  be  assured  that 
God  would  remit  the  punishment'  We  "  cut 
ourselves;  we  assemble  to-day  for  wine  and 
wheat;"  because  commerce  is  obstructed;  be- 
cause our  repose  is  interrupted  in  defiance  of 
precaution;  because  the  thunderbolts  fallen  on 
the  heads  of  our  neighbours  threaten  us,  and 
our  friends,  our  brethren,  and  our  ciiildren;  or 
is  it  because  that  those  paternal  regards  of 
God  are  obscured,  which  should  constitute  our 
highest  fulicity,  and  all  our  joys.'     I  say  again, 

*  The  original  worj  is  »o  translated  in  the  French  bi- 
blei,  Pi.  lïi.  7;  lix.  4.  The  French  rersiou,  in  rccard  to 
the  former  phrase,  They  cut  themselves,  seems  to  harmo- 
niie  beUer  with  «le  scop.-  of  the  passage  than  the  English, 
Tkey  rcid,  because  it  Ibllows,  Though  I  had  hound  and 
Mtrengthencd  their  arm?,  meaning  their  wounded  arms. 


this  is  a  subject  already  decided  rather  than  a 
question  of  investigation. 

4,  Not  wishful  to  multiply  remarks,  but  to 
comprise  the  whole  in  a  single  thought,  one 
plague  is  the  forerunner  of  greater  plagues 
when  it  fails  in  producing  the  reformation  of 
those  manners  it  was  sent  to  cha.stise.  Weigh 
those  awful  words  in  the  twenty-sixth  chapter 
of  Leviticus.  "  Jf  ye  will  not  hearken  unto 
me,  but  walk  contrary  unto  me;  then  I  will 
walk  contrary  also  unto  you  in  fury;  and  I, 
even  I,  will  chastise  you  seven  times  for  your 
sins."  The  force  of  these  words  depends  on 
those  which  proceed.  We  there  find  a  grada- 
tion of  calamities  whose  highest  period  extends 
to  the  total  destruction  of  the  people  against 
whom  they  were  denounced.  "  If  you  will 
not  hearken,"  Moses  had  said  in  behalf  of 
God,  verse  14,  "I  will  even  appoint  over  you 
terror,  the  consumption,  and  the  burning  ague, 
that  shall  consume  the  eyes,  and  cause  sorrow 
of  heart.  And  I  will  set  my  face  against  you, 
and  ye  shall  be  slain  before  your  enemies: 
they  that  hate  you  shall  reign  over  you,  and 
ye  shall  flee  when  none  pursueth  you."  Im- 
mediately he  adds,  "  If  ye  will  not  for  all  this 
hearken,"  and  these  words  occur  at  the  eigh- 
teenth verse,  "  If  ye  will  not  yet  for  all  this 
hearken  unto  me,  then  will  I  punish  you  seven 
times  more  for  your  sins.  And  I  will  break 
the  pride  of  your  power;  and  I  will  make  your 


if  ye  walk  contrary  to  me,  I  will  bring  seven 
times  more  plagues  upon  you  according  to 
your  sins.  And  I  will  send  the  wild  beast 
against  you,  and  they  shall  rob  you  of  your 
children,  and  make  you  few  in  number,  and 
your  highways  shall  be  desolate."  Then  he 
denounces  a  new  train  of  calamities,  after 
whicli  the  words  I  have  cited  immediately  fol- 
low. "  If  ye  will  not  be  reformed  by  all  these 
things,  but  will  walk  contrary  unto  me,  then 
will  1  also  walk  contrary  unto  you  in  fury,  and 
will  punish  you  yet  seven  times  for  your  sins. 
And  ye  shall  eat  the  flcsli  of  your  sons,  and 
the  flesh  of  your  daughters.  And  I  will  de- 
stroy your  high  places,  and  cut  down  your 
images,  and  cast  your  carcase  upon  the  carca- 
ses of  your  idols.  And  I  will  make  your  cities 
waste,  and  bring  your  sanctuary  unto  desola- 
tion." 

Make,  my  brethren,  the  most  serious  reflec- 
tions on  these  words  of  God  to  his  ancient 
people.  If  in  the  strictest  sense,  they  are  in- 
applicable to  you,  it  is  because  your  present  ca- 
lamities require  less  than  sevenfold  more  to  ef- 
fectuate your  total  extermination.  Do  I  exag- 
gerate tlie  subject?  Are  your  sea-banks  able 
to  sustain  sevenfold  greater  siiocks  than  they 
have  already  received?  Are  your  cattle  able 
to  sustain  sevenfold  heavier  strokes?  Is  your 
connnerce  able  to  sustain  a  sevenfold  greater 
depression?  Is  there  tiicn  so  wide  a  distance 
between  your  present  calamities,  and  your 
total  ruin? 

IV.  Let  us  proceed  to  other  subjects.  Hi- 
therto, my  dear  brethren,  we  have  endeavour- 
ed to  open  your  eyes,  and  fix  them  steadfastly 
on  dark  and  aillictive  objects;  we  have  solici- 
ted your  attention  but  for  bitter  reproaches, 
and  terrific  menaces.    We  have  sought  the  way 


Seh.  XCII.] 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  ROD. 


353 


to  your  hearts,  but  to  excite  terror  and  alarm. 
The  close  of  tliis  day's  devotion  shall  bo  more 
conformable  to  praycrw  we  oHcr  for  you,  to  the 
goodness  of  tiie  God  we  worship,  and  to  tiie 
character  of  our  ministry.  We  will  no  longer 
open  your  eyes  but  to  fix  them  on  objects  of 
consolation;  we  will  no  longer  solicit  your  at- 
tention to  hear  predictions  of  misery:  we  will 
seek  access  to  your  hearts  solely  to  aiiirineiit 
your  peace  and  consolation.  "  Hear  the  rod, 
and  who  hath  appointed  it;"  and  amid  the 
whole  of  your  calamities,  know  what  are  your 
resources,  and  what  are  your  hopes.  This  is 
our  fourth  part. 

One  of  the  most  notorious  crimes  of  which 
a  nation  can  be  guilty  when  Heaven  calls 
them  to  repentance,  is  that  charged  on  the 
Jews  in  Jeremiah's  time.  The  circumstance 
is  remarkable.  It  occurs  in  the  sixteenth 
chapter  of  this  prophet's  revelations.  His 
mission  was  on  the  evo  of  their  approaching 
ruin:  its  object  was  to  save  by  fear  the  men 
whom  a  long  course  of  prosperity  could  not 
instruct.  He  discharged  those  high  duties 
with  the  firmness  and  magnanimity  which  the 
grandeur  of  God  was  calculated  to  ins|)ire, 
whose  minister  he  had  the  glory  to  be.  "  Be- 
cause your  fathers  have  forsaken  me,"  he  said 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  "  and  have  walked 
after  other  gods,  and  have  served  them,  and 
have  worshipped  before  them;  and  because  ye 
have  done  worse  than  your  fatheis,  therefore 
will  I  cast  you  out  of  this  land,  into  a  land 
which  neither  ye,  nor  your  fatliers  know," 
ver.  11—13. 

Jjcst  the  apprehension  of  ruin  without  re- 
source should  drive  them  to  despair,  God 
made  to  Jeremiah  a  farther  communication;  he 
honoured  him  with  a  vision  saying,  "  Arise, 
and  go  down  to  the  potter's  house,  and  there 
I  will  cause  thee  to  hear  my  words."  The 
prophet  obeyed;  he  went  to  the  potter's  house; 
the  workman  was  busy  at  the  wheel.  He 
formed  a  vase,  which  was  marred  in  his  hand; 
he  made  it  anew,  and  gave  it  a  form  according 
to  his  pleasure.  This  emblem  God  explained 
to  the  prophet,  saying.  Go,  and  speak  these 
words  to  the  house  of  Israel.  "  O  house  of 
Israel,  cannot  I  do  with  you  as  this  potter? 
saith  the  Lord.  Behold  as  the  clay  is  in  the 
potter's  hand,  so  are  ye  in  my  hand,  O  house 
of  Israel.  At  what  instant  I  shall  speak  con- 
cerning a  nation,  and  concerning  a  kingdom 
to  pluck  up,  and  to  pull  down,  and  to  destroy 
it:  if  that  nation  against  whom  I  have  pro- 
nounced, turn  from  their  evil,  I  will  repent  of 
the  evil  that  I  thought  to  do  unto  them.  Re- 
turn yo  now  every  one  from  his  evil  way,  and 
amend  your  ways."  What  effects  might  not 
this  mission  have  produced.'  But  the  incorri- 
gible dej)ravity  of  the  people  was  proof  against 
this  additional  overture  of  grace;  those  abomi- 
nable men,  deriving  arguments  of  obduracy 
even  from  the  desperate  situation  of  tiieir  na- 
tion, replied  to  the  prophet,  "  There  is  no  hope, 
we  will  walk  after  our  own  devices,  and  we 
will  every  one  do  the  imagination  of  his  evil 
neart,"  xviii.  1 — 12. 

Revolting   at  those   awful  dispositions,  we 
arc,  my  brethren,  invested  with  the  same  com- 
mission ;is  Jeremiah.     God  has  said  to  us  as 
well  as  to  this  prophet,  "  Go  down  to  tiie  pot- 
VoL.  11.— 45 


ter's  house;  see  him  mar,  and  form  his  vessels 
anew,  giving  them  a  form  according  to  his 
plca.sure."  Behold,  a.s  the  clay  is  in  the  pot- 
ter's hand,  so  are  ye  in  my  hand,  O  house  of 
Israel.  At  what  instant  I  shall  speak  concern- 
ing a  nation,  and  concerning  a  kingdom  to 
|)hick  up,  and  pull  down,  and  to  destroy  it;  if 
that  nation  against  whom  I  have  pronounced, 
turn  from  their  evil,  I  will  repent  of  the  evil 
that  I  thought  to  do  unto  them."  The  foun- 
dation of  these  hopes  is  stronger  than  all  that 
we  can  ask. 

In  particular,  we  found  our  hope  on  the  lovo 
which  God  has  uniformly  cherished  for  this 
rei)ublic.  Has  not  God  established  it  by  a  se- 
ries of  miracles,  and  has  he  not  preserved  it 
by  a  scries  of  miracles  still  greater.'  Has  he 
not  at  all  times  surrounded  it  as  with  a  wall  of 
fire,  and  been  himself  tiie  buckler  on  the  most 
pressing  occasions.'  Has  he  not  inverted  the 
laws  of  nature,  and  of  the  elements  for  its 
defence.' 

We  found  our  hopes  on  the  abundant  mer- 
cies with  which  God  has  loaded  us  during  the 
time  of  visitation.  With  the  one  hand  ho 
abases,  with  the  other  he  exalts.  With  the  one 
hand  he  brings  the  pestilence  to  our  gates,  and 
with  the  other  he  obstructs  it  from  entering; 
from  desolating  our  cities,  and  attacking  our 
persons. 

We  found  our  hope  on  the  resources  he  has 
still  left  the  state  to  recover,  and  to  re-estab- 
lish itself  in  all  the  extent  of  its  glory  and 
prosperity.  We  found  our  iK)pes  also  on  the 
solenmities  of  this  day;  on  the  abundance  of 
tears  which  will  be  shed  in  the  presence  of 
God,  on  the  many  jjrayers  which  will  he  offer- 
ed to  heaven,  and  on  the  numerous  purposes 
of  conveision,  which  will  be  formed.  Frus- 
trate not  these  hopes  by  a  superficial  devotion, 
by  forgetfulness  of  promises,  and  violation  of 
vows.  Your  happiness  is  in  your  own  hands. 
"  Return  ye  now  every  one  from  his  evil  way, 
and  amend  your  doings."  Here  is  the  law, 
here  is  the  condition.  This  law  is  general;  thia 
condition  concerns  you  all. 

Yes,  this  law  concerns  you;  this  condition  is 
imposed  on  all.  Iligli  and  mighty  lords:  it  is 
required  of  you  this  day  to  lay  a  new  founda- 
tion for  the  security  of  this  people:  Return  ye 
then,  my  lords,  from  your  evil  ways  and  be 
converted.  In  vain  shall  you  have  proclaimed 
a  fast,  if  you  set  not  the  fairest  example  of  de- 
cency in  its  celebration.  In  vain  shall  you 
have  commanded  pastors  to  preach  against  the 
corruption  whicii  predominates  among  us,  if 
you  lend  not  an  arm  to  suppress  it;  if  you  suf- 
fer profaneness  and  infidelity  to  lift  their  head 
with  impunity;  if  you  suffer  the  laws  of  chas- 
tity to  be  violated  in  the  face  of  the  sun,  and 
houses  of  infamy  to  be  open  as  those  of  tem- 
ples consecrated  to  the  glory  of  God;  if  vou 
sufier  public  routs  and  sports  to  subsist  in  all 
their  fury;  if  you  abandon  the  reins  to  mam- 
mon, to  establish  its  nia.vims,  and  connnuni- 
catc  its  poison,  if  po.^sible,  to  all  our  towns  and 
provinces.  Have  compassion,  then,  on  the  ca- 
lamities of  our  country.  Be  impressed  with 
its  siglis.  I'lace  her  under  the  immediate  pro- 
tection of  Almighty  God.  May  he  deign,  ia 
clothing  you  with  his  grandeur  and  ])ower,  to 
clothe  you  also  with  holiness  and  equity.   May 


354 


THE  VOICE  OF  TIJE  ROD. 


[Ser.  XCU. 


he  deign  to  give  you  tlie  Spirit  of  Esdras,  of 
Neheiniah,  of  Josiah,  of  Hezckiah,  princes 
distinguished  in  the  sacred  Scriptures,  wiio 
brought  tiieir  nation  back  to  reformation  and 
piety,  and  thereby  to  happiness  and  glory. 

This  law  concerns  you,  this  condition,  pas- 
tors, is  imposed  on  you.  "  Return  from  your 
evil  ways  and  amend."  The  ministry  with 
which  God  has  invested  you;  tliis  ministry,  at 
all  times  weighty  and  dirticult,  is  particularly 
BO  in  this  age  of  contradiction  and  universal 
depravity.  You  are  appointed  to  censure  the 
vices  of  the  people,  and  every  one  is  enraged 
against  you,  the  moment  you  cast  an  eye  on 
his  particular  crimes.  They  will  treat  you  as 
enemies  when  you  tell  them  the  truth.  No 
matter.  Force  your  hearers  to  respect  you. 
Testify  to  them  by  your  generosity  and  disin- 
terestedness, that  you  are  ready  to  make  every 
eacrifice  to  sustain  the  glory  of  your  ministry. 
Give  them  as  many  e.xamples  as  precepts;  and 
then  ascend  the  pulpit  with  a  mind  confident 
and  firm.  You  liave  the  same  right  over  the 
people,  as  the  Isaiahs,  as  the  Micahs,  and  as 
the  Jeremiahs,  had  over  Israel  and  Judah. 
"You  can  say  like  them,  the  Lord  has  spoken. 
And  may  the  God  who  has  invested  you  with 
the  sacred  office  you  fill,  may  he  grant  you  the 
talents  requisite  for  its  faithful  discharge;  may 
he  assist  you  by  the  most  intimate  communi- 
cations in  the  closet,  to  bear  the  crosses  laid 
upon  you  by  the  public;  may  he  deign  to  ac- 
cept the  purity  of  your  intentions,  to  have 
compassion  on  your  weakness,  and  enable  you 
to  redouble  your  ellbrts  by  the  blessings  he  shall 
shed  on  your  work! 

This  law  concerns  you,  this  condition  is  im- 
posed on  you,  rebellious  men:  on  you  sinners, 
who  have  excelled  in  the  most  awful  courses 
of  vice,  in  lighting,  in  hatred,  in  brutality,  in 
profanoness,  in  insolence,  and  every  other 
crime  whicli  confounds  tlie  human  kind  with 
demons.  It  is  you,  chiefly  you  who  have  up- 
lifted the  arm  of  vengeance  which  pursues  us; 
it  is  you  who  have  dug  tliose  pits  which  are 
under  our  feet.  But  "  return  from  your  evil 
ways,  and  amend."  Let  your  roformation  have 
some  proportion  to  your  profligacy,  and  your 
repentance  to  your  crimes.  And  may  the  God 
who  can  of  these  stones  raise  up  children  unto 
Abraham,  and  make  to  rush  from  the  hardest 
rocks  fountains  of  living  water,  may  he  deign 
to  display  on  you  the  invincible  power  he  has 
over  the  heart:  may  he  penetrate  the  abyss  of 
your  souls,  and  strike  them  in  places  tlie  most 
tender  and  susceptible  of  anguish,  of  shame, 
and  of  repentance! 

This  law  concerns  you,  it  is  imposed  on  you 
believers;  and  believers  even  of  the  first  class. 
How  pure  soever  your  virtues  may  biî,  they  are 
still  mixed  with  imperfections:  how  linn  soever 
the  fabric  of  your  i)iety  may  be,  it  still  requires 
support;  and  how  sincere  soever  your  endea- 
vours may  be,  they  must  still  bo  repeated.  It 
is  on  you  that  the  salvation  of  the  nation  de- 
volves. It  is  your  piety,  your  fervour,  and 
your  zeal,  which  must  for  the  future  sustain 
this  tottering  republic.  May  there  bo  ten 
righteous  persons  in  our  Sodom,  lest  it  be  con- 
•umed  by  fire  from  heaven:  may  there  still  be 


a  Moses,  who  knows  liow  to  stay  the  arm  of 
God,  and  to  say,  O  Lord,  pardon  this  people; 
"  and  if  not,  blot  me,  I  pray  thee,  out  of  thy 
book,"  E.xod.  x.\xii.  32.  O  how  glorious  to  be 
in  a  republic,  if  I  may  venture  so  to  speak,  the 
stay  of  the  state,  and  the  cause  of  its  exist- 
ence! May  he  who  has  chosen  you  to  those 
exalted  duties,  assist  you  to  discharge  them 
with  fidelity.  May  he  purify  all  your  yet  re- 
maining defects  and  imperfections!  May  he 
make  you  the  salt  of  the  earth,  and  enable 
you  to  shine  as  lights  in  the  midst  of  this 
crooked  and  perverse  generation,  and  cause 
you  to  find  in  the  delights  which  piety  shall 
afford,  the  first  rewards  of  all  the  advantages 
it  procures. 

This  law  concerns  us  all,  tliis  condition  is 
imposed  on  each.  "  Let  us  return  from  our 
evil  ways,  and  amend."  Why  would  we  delay 
conversion?  Why  would  we  delay  disarming 
the  wrath  of  heaven  till  overwhelmed  with 
its  vengeance?  Why  should  we  delay  our  sup- 
plications till  God  shall  "  cover  himself  with 
a  cloud,  that  our  prayers  cannot  pass  through?" 
Lam.  iii.  44.  W^hy  should  we  delay  till  wholly 
enveloped  in  the  threatened  calamities'  To 
say  all  in  a  single  word,  why  should  we  delay 
till  Holland  becomes  as  Provence,  and  the 
Hague  as  Marseilles? 

Ah!  what  word  is  that  we  have  just  pro- 
nounced? what  horrors  does  it  not  oblige  us  to 
retrace?  O  consuming  fire,  God  of  vengeance, 
animate  our  souls;  and  may  the  piercing  and 
awful  ideas  of  thy  judgments,  induce  us  to 
avert  the  blow.  O  dreadful  times,  where  death 
enters  our  houses  with  the  air  we  breathe,  and 
with  the  food  we  eat;  every  one  shuns  himself 
as  death;  the  fatlier  fears  the  breath  of  his  son, 
and  the  son  tlie  breath  of  his  father.  O  dread- 
ful times,  already  come  on  so  many  victims, 
and  j)erliaps  ready  to  come  on  us,  exhibit  tho 
calamities  in  all  their  horrors!  1  look  on  my- 
self as  stretched  on  my  dying  bed,  and  aban- 
doned by  my  dearest  friends;  I  look  on  my 
children  as  entreating  me  to  help  them;  I  am 
terrified  by  their  approach,  I  am  ajipalled  by 
their  embraces,  and  receive  the  contagion  by 
their  last  adieu! 

My  brethren,  tlie  throne  of  mercy  is  yet  ac- 
cessible. The  devotion  of  so  many  saints  who 
have  besieged  it  to-day,  have  opened  it  to  us. 
Let  us  approach  it  with  broken  and  contrite 
hearts.  Let  us  approach  it  with  promises  of 
conversion,  and  oaths  of  fidelity.  Let  us  ap- 
proach it  with  ardent  prayers  for  the  salvation 
of  this  republic;  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
church;  for  tlio  peace  of  Europe;  and  for  the 
salvation  of  tiiose  victims,  which  tiic  divine 
justice  is  ready  to  sacrifice.  Let  us  prostrate 
before  God  as  David  at  tho  sight  of  the  de- 
stroying angel,  and  may  we  like  that  prince 
succeed  in  staying  the  awful  executions.  May 
this  year,  hitherto  filled  with  alarms,  with  hor- 
ror, and  carnage,  close  with  hope  and  consola- 
tion. May  this  day,  which  has  been  a  day  of 
fasting,  humiliation,  and  repentance,  produce 
tho  solemnities  of  joy  and  thanksgiving.  God 
grant  us  the  grace.  To  whom  be  honour  and 
glory  for  ever.    Amen. 


Ser.  xciii.]      difficulties  of  the  christian  religion. 


SERMON  XCIII. 


difficulties  of  the  christian 
religion. 


1  Cor.  xii.  9. 
We  know  in  part. 

The  systems  of  pag.an  theology  have,  in  gen- 
eral, artected  an  air  of  mystery;  they  liave 
evaded  the  light  of  fair  investigation;  and,  fa- 
voured by  I  know  not  what  cliarm  of  sancti- 
fied ol)scurity,  they  have  given  full  effect  to  er- 
ror and  immorality.  On  this  subject,  the  ene- 
mies of  Christianity  have  had  the  presumption 
to  confound  it  with  the  pagan  superstition. 
They  have  said,  that  it  has,  according  to  our 
own  confession,  impenetrable  mysteries;  that 
it  is  wishful  to  evade  investigation  and  re- 
search; and  that  they  have  but  to  remove  the 
veil  to  discover  its  weakness.  It  is  our  design 
to  expose  the  injustice  of  this  reproach  by  in- 
vestigating all  the  cases,  in  which  mysteries 
can  excite  any  doubts  concerning  the  doctrines 
they  contain,  and  to  demonstrate  on  this  head, 
as  on  every  other,  that  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  superior  to  every  other  religion  in  the 
world.  It  is  solely  in  this  point  of  view,  tiiat 
we  proceed  to  contemplate  this  avowal  of  our 
apostle,  and  in  all  its  principal  bearings.  "  We 
know  in  part." 

There  are  chiefly  four  cases  in  which  mys- 
teries render  a  religion  doubtful. 

I.  When  they  so  conceal  the  origin  of  a  re- 
ligion, that  we  cannot  examine  whether  it  has 
proceeded  from  the  spirit  of  error,  or  from  the 
spirit  of  truth.  For  example,  Mahomet  seclud- 
ed himself  from  his  follower.^;  he  affected  to 
hold  conversations  with  God,  concealed  from 
the  public,  and  he  has  refused  to  adduce  the 
evidence.  In  this  view,  there  is  nothing  mys- 
terious in  the  Christian  religion;  it  permits  you 
to  trace  its  origin,  and  to  weigh  the  authen- 
ticity of  its  proofs. 

II.  Mysteries  should  render  a  religion  doubt- 
ful, when  they  imply  an  absurdity.  For  ex- 
ample, the  Roman  Catholic  religion  establishes 
one  doctrine  which  avowedly  revolts  common 
sense,  and  annihilates  every  motive  of  credi- 
bility. But  the  mysteries  of  our  faith  have  no- 
thing which  originated  in  the  human  mind, 
and  which  our  frail  reason  can  in  equity  reject. 

III.  Mysteries  should  render  a  religion  doubt- 
ful, when  they  tend  to  promote  a  practice  con- 
trary to  virtue,  and  to  purity  of  morals.  For 
example,  the  pagan  tiieology  had  mysteries  of 
iniquity;  and  under  the  sanction  of  religious 
concealment,  it  favoured  practices  the  most 
enormous,  and  the  foulest  of  vices.  But  the 
mysteries  of  the  gospel,  are  "  mysteries  of  god- 
liness," 1  Tim.  iii.  15. 

IV.  In  a  word,  mysteries  should  render  a  re- 
ligion doubtful,  when  we  find  a  systerti  less  en- 
cumbered witir  difliculties  than  the  one  we  at- 
tack: but  when  the  difficulties  of  the  system 
we  propose,  surpass  those  of  our  religion,  then 
it  ought  still  to  have  the  preference.  For  ex- 
ample, the  system  of  infidelity  and  of  atheism, 
is  exempt  from  the  difficulties  of  Christianity; 
but,  ita  whole  mass  is  a  fertile  source  of  incom- 


355 


prchcnsible  absurdities,  and  of  difficulties  which 
cannot  be  resolved. 

The  whole  of  these  propositions,  my  bre- 
thren, claim  the  most  careful  investigation.  If 
Heaven  shall  succeed  our  efforts,  we  shall 
have  a  new  class  of  arguments  for  the  support 
of  our  faith.  We  shall  have  a  new  motive  to 
console  ourselves  within  the  limits  God  has 
prescribed  to  our  knowledge,  and  await  with 
ardour  and  patience,  the  liappy  period,  till 
"that  wliich  is  perfect  shall  come;"  till  that 
"  which  is  in  part  sliall  be  done  away;"  till 
"  we  shall  behold  the  Lord  witli  open  face, 
and  be  ciiangcd  into  glory  by  his  Spirit."  So 
be  it.     Amen. 

1.  Mysteries  should  render  a  religion  doubt- 
ful, when  we  cannot  examine  whether  that  re- 
ligion proceed  from  the  spirit  of  truth,  or  from 
the  spirit  of  error.  Mankind  neither  can,  nor 
ought  to  receive  any  religion  as  divine,  unless 
it  bear  the  marks  of  divine  autiiority,  and  pro- 
duce its  documents  of  credibility. 

For  example,  if  you  should  require  Maho- 
met to  produce  the  proofs  of  his  mission,  ho 
would  say''  that  it  had  a  peculiar  character, 
and  a  singular  sort  of  privilege;  that  till  his 
call,  all  the  sent  of  God  were  obliged  to  prove 
the  divinity  of  their  mission;  and  the  prophets 
gave  signs  by  which  they  might  be  known: 
that  Jesus  Christ  gave  sight  to  the  blind,  hear- 
ing to  the  deaf,  health  to  the  sick,  and  life  to 
the  dead:  but  on  his  part,  he  had  received  au- 
thority to  consign  over  to  eternal  torments, 
every  one  who  shall  dare  to  doubt  the  truth  of 
his  doctrine;  and  anticipating  the  punishment, 
he  put  every  one  to  the  sword  who  presumed 
to  question  the  divine  authority  of  his  religion. 
But  if  you  require  of  Jesus  Christ  the  proofs 
of  his  mission,  he  will  give  you  evidence  the 
most  obvious  and  satisfactory.  "Though  ye 
believe  not  me,  believe  the  works.  If  I  had 
not  come  and  spoken  unto  them;  if  I  had  not 
done  among  them  the  works  which  no  other 
man  did,  they  had  not  had  sin.  But  now  are 
tliey  without  excuse.  The  works  that  I  do  in 
my  Father's  name,  they  bear  witness  of  me," 
John  X.  25.  38;  xv.  22.  24. 

If  you  ask  the  followers  of  Mahomet,  how 
they  know  that  the  Alcoran  was  really  trans- 
mitted by  the  prophet,  they  will  confess  that 
he  knew  neither  how  to  read  nor  write;  and 
that  the  name  of  prophet  is  ot\en  assumed  by 
men  ignorant  of  letters:  but  they  will  add, 
that  he  conversed  for  twenty  years  with  the 
angel  Gabriel;  that  this  celestial  spirit  reveal- 
ed to  him,  from  time  to  time,  certain  passages 
of  the  Alcoran;  that  Mahomet  dictated  to  his 
disciplesj  the  subjects  of  his  revelation;  that 
they  carefully  collected  whatever  dropped  from 
his  lips;  and  that  the  collection  so  made  con- 
stitutes the  subject  of  the  Alcoran.  But,  if 
you  wish  to  penetrate  farther,  and  to  trace  the 
book  to  its  source,  you  will  find  that  afler  the 
death  of  Mahomet,  his  pretended  revelations, 
were  preserved  merely  on  fugitive  scrolls,  or  in 
tiie  recollection  of  those  who  had  heard  him; 
that  his  successor,  wishful  to  associate  the  scat- 


*  See  the  Alcoran,  chap,  on  the  lin.  of  Joach;  chap,  on 
pratilications;  chap,  on  Jonah;  chap,  on  thunder;  chap, 
on  the  nocturnal  journey;  chap,  on  the  Creator;  chap. 
on  the  spider. 

t  See  Maraccio  on  the  Alcoran,  page  36. 


356 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  THE 


[Seu.  xcin. 


tored  limbs  in  one  body,  made  the  collection 
■  more  with  presumption  than  precision;  that 
this  collection  was  a  subject  of  lonp  debate 
amon<r  the  Mahometans,  some  contending  tliat 
the  prince  had  omitted  many  revelations  of  the 
projiiiet;  and  others,  tiiat  he  had  <ido])ted  some 
whicli  were  doubtful  and  spurious.  You  will 
find,  that  tliose  disputes  were  appeased  solely 
by  tite  atithority  of  the  prince  under  whom  they 
orio'inatcd,  and  by  llie  ()ernianent  injimctions 
of  those  who  succeeded  iiim  on  tiie  throne. 
Consequently,  it  is  very  doubtful,  whether  the 
impostures  of  Mahomet  really  proceeded  from 
himself,  or  were  imputed  to  him  by  his  fol- 
lowers. 

Some  even  of  Mahomet's  disciples  afHrm, 
that  of  the  three  parts  which  compose  the  Al- 
coran, but  one  is  the  genuine  production  of 
the  prophet.  Hence,  when  you  show  them 
any  absurdity  in  the  book,  they  will  reply, 
that  it  ought  to  be  classed  among  the  two 
spurious  parts  which  tiiey  reject.* 

Rut  if  you  ask  us  iiow  we  know  tliat  the 
books,  containing  tlie  fundamentals  of  our 
faith,  were  composed  by  the  holy  men  to  whom 
they  are  ascribed,  we  readily  ofler  to  submit 
them  to  the  severest  tests  of  criticism.  Let 
them  produce  a  book  whoso  antiquity  is  the 
least  disputed,  and  the  most  unanimously  ac- 
knowledged to  be  the  production  of  the  author 
whose  name  it  bears;  let  them  adduce  the  evi- 
dences of  its  authenticity;  and  we  will  adduce 
the  same  evidences  in  favour  of  the  canon  of 
our  gospels. 

If  you  ask  the  followers  of  Mahomet  to 
show  you  in  the  Alcoran,  some  characteristics 
of  its  divine  autlienticity,  they  will  e.xtol  it  to 
the  skies,  and  tell  you  "  tliat  it  is  an  un- 
created work;  the  trutii  by  way  of  excellence; 
the  miracle  of  miracles;  superior  to  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead;  promised  by  Moses  and 
the  apost.lcs;  intelligible  to  God  alone;  worthy 
to  be  received  of  all  intelligent  beings,  and 
constituted  their  rule  of  conduct."!  l^ut  wiien 
you  come  to  investigate  the  work  of  which 
they  have  sjjoken  in  such  extravagant  terms, 
you  will  find  a  book  destitute  of  instruction, 
except  what  its  author  had  borrowed  from  the 
books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament;  con- 
cerning the  unity  of  God;  the  reality  of  future 
judgment;  the  certainty  of  tlio  life  to  come; 
and  tiiose  various  maxims,  that  "  we  must  not 
give  alms  in  ostentation;  that  God  loveth  a 
cheerful  giver,  tliat  all  things  are  possible  to 
him;"  and  that  "  lie  seaiciies  the  heart."  You 
will  find  a  book  in  many  places  directly  opjios- 
ed  to  the  maxims  of  tiic  sacreil  authors,  even 
when  it  extols  the  Deity,  as  in  the  laws  it  pre- 
scribes respecting  divorce;  in  the  j)ermission  of 
a  new  marriage  granted  to  repudiated  women; 
in  Itie  liberty  of  iiaving  as  many  wives  as  we 
please,  a  liberty  of  wliich  Mahomet  availed 
himself;  in  what  he  recounts  of  Pharaoh's 
conversion;  of  Jesus  Christ's  speaking  in  the 
cradle  with  the  same  ficility  as  a  man  of 
thirty  or  of  fifty  years  of  age;  in  what  ho  ad- 
vances concerning  a  middle  |)lace  between 
heaven  and  hell,  where  those  must  dwell  who 
have  done  neither  good  nor  evil,  and  those 


whose  good  and  evil  arc  equal;  in  what  he  says 
concerning  Jesus  Christ's  escape  from  crucifix- 
ion, having  so  far  deceived  the  Jews  that  they 
crucified  another  in  his  place,  who  very  much 
resembled  liim.* 

You  will  find  a  book  replete  with  fabulous 
tales.  Witness  w'hat  he  says  of  God  having 
raised  a  mountain,  which  covered  the  Israel- 
ites with  its  shadow. t  Witness  the  dialogue 
he  imagined  between  God  and  Abraham.  Wit- 
ness the  puerile  proofs  he  adduces  of  the  inno- 
cence of  Joseph.  Witness  the  history  of  the 
seven  sleepers.  Witness  what  he  .isserts  that 
all  the  devils  were  subject  to  Solomon. J  Wit- 
ness the  ridiculous  fable  of  the  ant  that  com- 
manded an  army  of  ants,  and  addressed  them 
with  an  articulate  voice.  Witness  the  notions 
he  gives  us  of  paradise  and  hell.||  Whereas, 
if  you  require  of  Christians  the  characteristic 
authorities  of  their  books,  they  adduce  sub- 
lime doctrines,  a  pure  morality,  prophecies 
punctually  accomplished,  and  at  the  predicted 
period,  a  scheme  of  happiness  the  most  noble 
and  the  most  assortable  with  the  wants  of  man 
that  ever  entered  the  mind  of  the  most  cele- 
brated philosophers. 

If  you  ask  the  sectarians  of  Mahomet  what 
signs  God  has  wrought  in  favour  of  their  re- 
ligion, they  will  tell  you,  that  his  mother  bore 
him  without  pain;  that  the  idols  fell  at  his 
birth;  that  the  sacred  fires  of  Persia  were  ex- 
tinguished; that  the  waters  in  lake  Sava  di- 
minished; that  the  palace  of  Chosroes  fell  to 
the  ground. §  They  will  tell  you,  that  Mahomet 
himself  performed  a  great  number  of  miracles, 
that  he  made  water  proceed  from  his  fingers; 
that  he  cut  the  moon,  and  made  a  part  of  it 
fall  into  his  lap.H  They  will  tell  you,  that  the 
stones,  and  the  trees  saluted  him,  saying, 
Peace,  peace  be  to  the  ambassador  of  God.** 
They  will  tell  you,  that  the  sheep  obeyed  his 
voice;  that  an  angel  having  assumed  the  figure 
of  a  dragon,  became  his  guardian.  They  will 
tell  you,  that  two  men  of  enormous  stature 
grasped  him  in  their  hands,  and  placed  him  on 
tlio  top  of  a  high  mountain,  opened  his  bowels, 
and  took  from  his  heart  a  black  drop,  the  only 
evil  Satan  possessed  in  his  heart:  having  after- 
ward restored  him  to  his  place,  they  affixed 
their  seal  to  the  fact. ft  Fabulous  tales,  adduc- 
ed without  ])roofs,  and  deservedly  rejected  by 
the  more  enlightened  followers  of  Mahomet. 

But,  if  you  require  of  the  Christians  mira- 
cles in  favour  of  their  religion,  they  will  pro- 
duce them  without  number.  Miracles  wrought 
in  tlie  most  public  places,  and  in  presence  of 
the  people;  miracles,  the  i)ower  of  which  was 
connnunicated  to  many  of  those  who  embraced 
C'hrislianity;  miracles  admitted  by  Zosimen, 
by  Porphyry,  by  Julian,  and  by  the  greatest 
enemies  of  the  gospel;  miracles  which  demon- 
strate to  us  the  truth  by  every  test  of  which 
remote  facts  are  susceptible;  miracles  sealed 
by  the  blood  of  innumerable  martyrs,  and  ren- 
dered in  some  sort  still  visible  to  us  by  the  cou- 


*  See  Jo>e|>li  of  St.  Maria  ou  the  expedition  to  the 
East  Indii». 

t  Maraecio  ou  the  Alcoran,  chap.  vi. 


•  Chap,  on  women.  |  Preface,  page  14. 

}  Chap,  on  Ruth,  ||  Chap,  of  orders. 

&  See  Maraccio's  Life  of  Maihomet,  page  10. 
IT  Simon's  Hist.  Crit.  of  the  Faith  of  the  Nations  of 
the  Levant. 

*•  Mararcio,  preface,  page  14.  col.  2. 
tt  Ibid,  page  13. 


Ser.  XCIII.] 


CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


357 


version  of  tlio  pagan  world,  and  by  tlio  pro- 
gress of  tlic  gospel,  and  whicli  can  find  no 
parallel  in  the  religion  of  Maliomet,  projjagat- 
ed  with  the  sword,  as  is  confessed  by  his  fol- 
lowers, who  say,  that  he  fought  sixty  battles, 
and  called  himscK  llie  military  propliet.  Where- 
as Christianity  was  established  by  the  prodigies 
of  the  Spirit,  and  by  force  of  argument.  The 
mysteries  of  the  gospel  are  not  therefore  in  the 
first  class,  which  render  a  religion  suspected. 
They  do  not  conceal  its  origin.  This  is  what 
wo  pro|)osed  to  prove. 

II.  Mysteries  should  expose  a  religion  to 
suspicion,  when  tliey  impl}'  an  absurdity.  Yes, 
and  if  Christianity  notwitlistanding  the  lumin- 
ous proofs  of  its  divine  authority;  notwith- 
standing the  miracles  of  its  founder;  notwith- 
standing the  sublimity  of  its  doctrines;  notwith- 
standing the  sanctity  of  its  moral  code,  the 
completion  of  its  prophecies,  the  magnificence 
of  its  promises;  notwithstanding  the  convinc- 
ing facts  which  prove  that  the  books  contain- 
ing this  religion  were  written  by  men  divinely 
inspired;  notwithstanding  the  number  and  the 
grandeur  of  its  miracles;  notwithstanding  the 
confession  of  its  adversaries,  and  its  public 
monuments;  if  it  was  possible,  notwithstand- 
ing all  this,  should  the  Christian  religion  in- 
clude absurdities,  it  ought  to  be  rejected.  Be- 
cause, 

Every  character  of  the  divinity  here  adduc- 
ed, is  founded  on  argument.  Whatever  is  de- 
monstrated to  a  due  degree  of  evidence  ought 
to  be  admitted  without  dispute.  The  proofs 
of  the  divine  authority  of  religion  are  demon- 
strated to  that  degree;  therefore  the  Christian 
religion  ought  to  be  received  without  dispute. 
But  were  it  possible  that  a  contradiction  should 
exist;  were  it  possible  that  a  proposition,  ap- 
jjearing  to  us  evidently  false,  should  be  true, 
evidence  would  no  longer  then  be  the  charac- 
ter of  truth,  and  if  evidence  should  no  longer 
be  the  character  of  truth,  you  would  have  no 
farther  marks  by  which  you  could  know  that  a 
religion  is  divine.  Consequently,  you  could 
not  be  assured,  that  the  gospel  is  divine.  To 
me,  nothing  is  more  true  than  this  proposition, 
a  whole  is  greater  than  a  part.  I  would  reject  a 
religion  how  true  soever  it  might  appear,  if  it 
contradicted  this  fact;  because,  how  evident 
soever  the  proofs  might  be  alleged  in  favour 
of  its  divinity,  they  could  never  be  more  evi- 
dent than  the  rejected  proposition,  that  a  whole 
is  greater  than  a  part.  Our  proposition  is  there- 
fore confirmed,  that  mysteries  ought  to  render 
a  religion  suspected  when  they  imply  absurdi- 
ties. We  wish  you  to  judge  of  the  Christian 
religion  according  to  this  rule. 

Now  if  there  be  in  our  gospels  a  doctrine 
concerning  which  a  good  logician  has  apparent 
cause  to  exclaim,  it  is  this;  a  God,  who  has 
but  one  essence,  and  who  nevertheless  has 
three  persons;  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
who  is  God;  and  these  three  are  but  one.  The 
Father,  who  is  with  the  Son,  docs  not  become 
incarnate,  when  the  Son  becomes  incarnate. 
The  Son,  who  is  with  the  Fatlicr,  no  longer 
maintains  the  rights  of  justice  in  Gethsemane, 
when  the  Father  maintains  them.  The  Holy 
Spirit,  who  is  with  the  Father  and  the  Son, 
proceeds  from  both  in  a  manner  ineffable:  and 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  who  is  with  the  Holy 


Spirit,  do  not  proceed  in  this  manner.  Are  not 
these  ideas  contradictory?  No,  my  brethren. 
If  we  should  say,  that  God  has  but  one  es- 
sence, and  that  he  has  three  essences,  in  the 
same  sense  that  we  maintain  ho  has  but  one; 
if  wo  should  say,  that  God  is  three  in  the 
same  sense  he  is  one,  it  would  bo  a  contradic- 
tion. But  this  is  not  our  thesis.  We  believe 
on  the  faith  of  a  divine  book,  that  God  is  one 
in  the  sense  to  which  we  give  the  confused 
name  of  essence.  We  believe  that  he  is  three 
in  a  sense  to  which  we  give  the  confused  name 
of  persons.  We  determine  neither  what  is  this 
essence,  nor  what  is  this  personality.  That  sur- 
passes reason  but  does  not  revolt  it. 

If  we  should  say,  that  God  in  the  sense  wo 
have  called  Essence,  is  become  incarnate,  and 
at  the  same  time  this  notion  is  not  incarnate, 
we  should  advance  a  contradiction.  But  this 
is  not  our  tjiesis.  We  believe  on  the  faith  of 
a  divine  book,  that  what  is  called  the  person 
of  the  Son  in  the  Godhead,  and  of  which  we 
confess  that  we  have  not  a  distinct  idea,  is 
united  to  the  humanity  in  a  manner  we  cannot 
determine,  because  it  has  not  pleased  God  to 
reveal  it.  This  surpasses  reason,  but  does  not 
revolt  it. 

If  we  should  advance,  that  God  (the  Spirit) 
in  the  sense  we  have  called  Essence,  proceeds 
from  the  Father  and  the  Son,  while  tiie  Father 
and  the  Son  do  not  proceed,  we  should  advance 
a  contradiction.  But  this  is  not  our  thesis. 
We  believe  on  the  credit  of  a  divine  book, 
that  what  is  called  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  God- 
head, and  of  which  we  confess  we  have  no 
distinct  idea,  because  it  has  not  pleased  God 
to  give  it,  has  procession  ineffable,  while  what 
is  called  the  Father  and  the  Son,  differing 
from  the  Holy  Spirit  in  that  respect,  do  not 
proceed.  This  surpasses  reason,  but  does  not 
revolt  it. 

We  go  even  farther.  We  maintain  not  only 
that  there  is  no  contradiction  in  those  doc- 
trines, but  that  a  contradiction  is  impossible. 
What  is  a  contradiction  in  regard  to  us?  It  is 
an  evident  opposition  between  two  known 
ideas.  For  instance,  I  have  an  idea  of  this  pul- 
pit, and  of  this  wall.  I  see  an  essential  differ- 
ence between  the  two.  Consequently,  I  find  a 
contradiction  in  the  proposition,  that  this  wall, 
and  this  pidj)it  are  the  same  being. 

Such  being  the  nature  of  a  contradiction,  I 
say,  it  is  impossible  that  any  should  be  found 
in  this  proposition,  that  there  is  one  divine  es- 
sence in  tlu-ee  persons:  to  find  a  contradiction, 
it  is  requisite  to  have  a  distinct  idea  of  what  I 
call  essence,  and  of  what  I  call  person:  and,  as 
I  i)rofess  to  be  perfectly  ignorant  of  the  one, 
and  the  other,  it  is  impossible  I  should  find  an 
absurdity.  VVlien,  therefore,  I  atfirm,  that 
there  is  a  divine  essence  in  tlirce  persons,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  explain  either  the  nature  of  the 
unity,  or  the  natiu-e  of  the  Trinity.  I  pretend 
to  advance  only  that  there  is  something  in  God 
which  surpasses  me,  and  which  is  the  basis  of 
this  proposition;  viz.  there  is  a  Father,  a  Son, 
and  a  Holy  Spirit. 

But  though  the  Christian  religion  be  fully 
exculpated  for  teaching  doctrines  which  destroy 
themselves,  the  Church  of  Rome  cannot  be  jus- 
tified, whatever  efforts  her  greatest  geniuses 
may  make,  in  placing  the  doctrine  of  the  Trini- 


358 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  THE 


[Ser.  XCIII. 


ty,  on  tlie  parallel  with  the  doctrine  of  tran- 
substantiation,  and  in  defending  it  against  us 
with  tlie  same  argument  witii  which  we  defend 
tiic  other  against  unbelievers. 

Were  we,  I  allow,  to  seek  the  faith  of  the 
church  of  Rome  in  the  writings  of  some  indi- 
vidual doctors,  this  doctrine  would  be  less  lia- 
ble to  objections.  Some  of  them  iiave  express- 
ed themselves,  on  this  subject,  in  an  undeter- 
mined way;  and  have  avoided  detail.  They 
say  in  general,  that  the  body  of  Ciirist  is  in  the 
sacrament  of  the  euciiarist,  and  that  they  do 
not  presume  to  define  the  manner. 

J5ut  we  must  seek  the  faith  (and  it  is  the 
method  which  all  should  follow  who  have  a 
controversy  to  maintain  against  those  of  that 
communion;)  we  must,  I  say,  seek  the  faith  of 
the  church  of  Rome  in  the  decisions  of  lier  ge- 
neral councils,  and  not  in  the  works  of  a  few 
individuals.  And  as  the  doctors  of  the  council 
of  Trent  lived  in  a  dark  age,  in  whicli  philoso- 
phy had  not  purified  the  errors  of  the  schools, 
they  had  the  indiscretion,  not  only  to  deter- 
mine, but  also  to  detail  this  doctrine;  and  there- 
by committed  themselves  by  a  manifest  contra- 
diction. Hear  the  third  canon  of  the  third  ses- 
sion of  the  council  of  Trent.  "  If  any  one 
deny,  that  in  the  venerable  sacrament  of  the 
eucharist,  the  body  of  Christ  is  really  present 
in  both  kinds,  and  in  such  sort  that  the  body 
of  Christ  is  wholly  present  in  every  separate 
part  of  the  host,  let  him  be  anathematized." 

Can  one  fall  into  a  more  manifest  contradic- 
tion? If  you  should  say,  that  the  bread  is  de- 
stroyed, and  that  the  body  of  Christ  intervenes 
by  an  effort  of  divine  omnipotence,  you  might 
perhaps  shelter  yourself  from  the  reproach  of 
absurdity;  you  might  escape  under  the  plea  of 
mystery,  and  the  limits  of  the  human  mind. 
But  to  affirm  that  the  substance  of  the  bread  is 
destroyed,  while  the  kinds  of  bread,  which  are 
still  but  the  same  bread,  modified  in  such  a 
manner,  subsist,  is  not  to  advance  a  mystery, 
but  an  absurdity.  It  is  not  to  prescribe  bounds 
to  the  human  mind,  but  to  revolt  its  convic- 
tions, and  extinguish  its  knowledge. 

If  you  should  say,  that  tho  body  of  Clirist, 
which  is  in  heaven,  passes  in  an  instant  from 
heaven  to  earth,  you  might  perhaps  shelter 
yourself  from  the  reproach  of  absurdity,  and 
escape  under  the  plea  of  mystery,  and  of  tho 
limits  of  the  human  mind.  But  to  affirm,  tiiu^: 
the  body  of  Christ,  while  it  is  wholly  in  hea- 
ven, is  wholly  on  earth,  is  not  to  advance  a 
mystery,  but  to  maintain  a  contradiction.  It 
is  to  revolt  all  its  convictions,  and  to  extinguish 
all  its  knowledge. 

If  you  should  say,  that  some  parts  of  the 
body  of  Jesus  Christ  arc  detached,  and  mixed 
'vith  the  symbols  of  tho  holy  sacrament,  you 
miirht  perhaps  avert  the  charge  of  contradic- 
tion, and  escape  under  the  plea  of  mystery, 
arid  the  limits  of  tho  human  mind.  But  to  af- 
firm, that  the  body  of  ('hrist  is  but  one  in  num- 
ber, and  meanwhile,  that  it  is  perfect  and  en- 
tire in  all  the  parts  of  the  host,  which  are  with- 
out number,  is  not  to  advance  a  mystery,  it  is 
to  maintain  a  contradiction.  It  is  not  to  pre- 
scribe bounds  to  tho  human  mind,  but  to  revolt 
all  its  convictions,  and  to  extinguish  all  its 
knowledge. 

So  you  may  indeed  conclude,  my  brothrcn, 


from  what  wo  said  at  the  commencement  of 
tliis  article.  A  Roman  Catholic,  consonant  to 
his  principles,  has  no  right  to  believe  the  divine 
authority  of  the  Christian  religion,  for  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  terminate  on  this  princi- 
ple, that  evidence  is  the  character  of  truth. 
But  if  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation  bo 
true,  palpable  absurdities  ought  to  be  believed 
by  the  Roman  Catholic;  evidence,  in  regard  to 
him,  being  no  longer  the  character  of  truth. 
If  evidence  in  regard  to  him  be  no  longer  the 
character  of  trutli,  proofs  the  most  evident  in 
favour  of  Christianity,  can  carry  no  conviction 
to  him,  and  he  is  justified  in  not  believing 
them. 

I  go  fartlier  still;  I  maintain  to  the  most 
zealous  defender  of  tlie  doctrine  of  transubstan- 
tiation, that  properly  speaking,  he  does  not  be- 
lieve the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation.  He 
may  indeed  verbally  assert  his  faith,  but  he  can 
never  satisfy  his  conscience:  he  may  indeed  be- 
cloud his  mind  by  a  confusion  of  ideas,  but  he 
can  never  induce  it  to  harmonize  contradictory 
ideas:  he  may  indeed  inadvertently  adhere  to 
this  proposition,  «  body  having  but  a  limited  dr- 
cwnftrence,  is  at  the  same  time  in  heaven,  and  at 
the  same  time  on  earth,  rdlh  the  same  circumfe- 
rence. But  no  man  can  believe  this  doctrine, 
if  by  believing,  you  mean  the  connecting  of 
distinct  ideas;  for  no  man  whatever  can  connect 
together  both  distinct  and  contradictory. 

III.  We  have  said  in  the  tiiird  place,  that 
mysteries  should  render  a  religion  suspected, 
when  they  hide  certain  practices  contrary  to 
virtue  and  good  manners.  This  was  a  charac- 
teristic of  paganism.  The  pagans  for  the  most 
part  affected  a  great  air  of  mystery  in  their 
religions  exercises.  They  said,  that  mystery 
conciliated  respect  for  the  gods.  Hence,  di- 
viding their  mysteries  into  two  classes,  they 
had  their  major  and  their  minor  mysteries. 
But  all  these  were  a  covert  for  impurity!  Who 
can  read  without  horror  the  mysteries  of  the 
god  Apis,  e-  "n  as  they  are  recorded  in  pagan 
authors?  What  infamous  ceremonies  did  they 
not  practise  in  honour  of  Venus,  when  initiated 
into  the  secrets  of  the  Goddess?  What  myste- 
rious precautions  did  they  not  adopt  concerning 
the  mysteries  of  Ceres  in  the  city  of  Eleusia' 
No  man  was  admitted  without  mature  expe- 
rience, and  a  long  probation.  It  was  so  esta- 
blished, that  those  who  were  not  initiated, 
could  not  participate  of  the  secrets.  Nero  did 
not  dare  to  gratify  his  curiosity  on  this  head;* 
and  the  wish  to  know  secrets  allowed  to  bo  dis- 
closed only  by  gradual  approach,  was  regarded 
as  a  presumption.  It  was  forbidden  under  the 
penalty  of  death  to  disclose  those  mysteries, 
and  solely,  if  we  may  believe  Theodoret,  and 
Tertullian,  to  hide  the  abominable  ceremonies, 
whose  detail  would  defile  the  majesty  of  this 
place.  And  if  the  recital  would  so  deeply  de- 
file, what  must  the  practice  be? 

The  mysteries  of  Christianity  are  infinitely 
distant  from  all  those  infamous  practices.  The 
rrospcl  not  only  exhibits  a  most  hallowing  mo- 
rality, but  whatever  mysteries  it  may  teach,  it 
requires  that  wo  should  draw  from  their  very 
obscurity  motives  to  sanctity  of  life.  If  we  say, 
that  there  are  three  persons  who  participate  in 


'  Life  of  Nero  by  Suetonius,  chap.  34» 


Ser.  XCIII.] 


CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


359 


the  divine  Essence,  it  is  to  make  you  conceive, 
that  all  whicii  is  in  God,  if  I  may  so  speak,  is 
interested  for  our  salvation,  and  to  enkindle 
our  eflbrls  by  tlie  tliouçht.  If  we  say,  tiiat  tiie 
Word  was  made  flesi),  and  that  the  Son  of 
God  expired  on  the  cross,  it  is  to  make  you 
abhor  sin  by  tiie  idea  of  what  it  cost  him  to  ex- 
piate it.  If  we  say,  that  grace  operates  in  the 
heart,  and  that  in  the  work  of  our  salvation, 
grace  forms  the  desiijfn  and  the  execution,  it  is 
with  this  inference,  tiiat  we  should  "  work  out 
our  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling." 
If  we  teach  even  the  doctrines  of  God's  de- 
crees, it  is  "  to  make  our  calling  sure,"  Phil, 
ii.  12;   1  Pet.  i.  10. 

IV.  "We  have  lastly  said,  that  mysteries 
should  render  a  religion  doubtful,  when  we  find 
a  system,  which  on  rejecting  those  mysteries, 
is  exempt  from  greater  difliculties  than  those 
we  would  attack.  We  make  this  remark  as  a 
compliment  to  unbelievers,  and  to  the  impure 
class  of  brilliant  wits.  When  we  have  proved, 
reasoned,  and  demonstrated;  when  wo  have 
placed  the  arguments  of  religion  in  the  clearest 
degree  of  evidence  tiiey  can  possibly  attain: 
and  when  we  would  decide  in  favour  of  reli- 
gion, they  invariably  insinuate,  that  "  religion 
has  its  mysteries;  that  religion  has  its  difficul- 
ties;" and  they  make  these  the  apology  of  their 
unbelief 

I  confess,  this  objection  would  have  some 
colour,  if  there  were  any  system,  which  on  ex- 
empting us  from  the  difficulties  of  religion,  did 
not  involve  in  still  greater.  And  whenever 
they  produce  that  system,  we  are  ready  to  em- 
brace it. 

Associate  all  the  difficulties  of  whicli  we  al- 
low religion  to  be  susceptible.  Associate  what- 
ever is  incomprehensible  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  and  in  the  ineffable  manner  in  which 
the  three  persons  subsist,  who  are  the  object  of 
our  worship.  Add  thereto  whatever  is  super- 
natural in  the  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  in  the  mysterious  methods  he  adopts  to 
penetrate  the  heart.  Neither  forget  the  depths 
into  which  we  are  apparently  cast  by  the  doc- 
trines of  God's  decrees,  and  maice  a  complete 
code  of  the  whole. 

To  these  difficulties  which  we  avow,  join  all 
those  we  do  not  avow.  Join  all  the  pretexts 
you  affect  to  find  in  the  arguments  which  na- 
ture affords  of  the  being  of  a  God,  and  the  re- 
ality of  a  providence.  Join  thereto  whatever 
you  shall  find  the  most  forcible  against  the  au- 
thenticity of  our  sacred  books,  and  what  has 
been  thought  the  most  plausible  against  the 
marks  of  Divine  authority  exhibited  in  those 
Scriptures.  Join  to  these  all  the  advantages 
presumed  to  be  derived  from  the  diversity  of 
opinions  existing  in  the  Ciiristian  world,  and  in 
all  its  sects  which  constantly  attack  one  another. 
Make  a  new  code  of  all  these  difficulties. — 
Form  a  system  of  your  own  objections.  Draw 
the  conclusions  from  your  own  principles,  and 
build  an  edifice  of  infidelity  on  the  ruins  of  re- 
ligion. But  for  what  system  can  you  decide 
which  is  not  infinitely  less  supportable  than  re- 
ligion? 

Do  you  espouse  that  of  atheism.'  Do  you 
Bay,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  being  of  a  God 
owes  its  origin  to  superstition  and  the  fears  of 
men.'    And  is  this  the  systcm  whicli  has  no  dif- 


ficultiea'  Have  rational  men  need  to  be  con- 
vinced, that  the  mysteries  of  religion  are  infi- 
nitely more  defensible  than  the  mysteries  of 
atheism. 

Do  you  espouse  the  part  of  irreligion.'  Do 
you  allow  with  Epicures,  that  there  is  a  God; 
but  that  the  sublimity  of  his  Majesty  obstructs 
his  stooping  to  men,  and  the  extension  of  his 
regards  to  our  temples,  and  our  altars?  And  is 
this  the  system  which  has  no  difficulties?  How 
do  you  reply  to  the  infinity  of  objections  op- 
posed to  this  system?  How  do  you  answer  this 
argument,  that  God  having  not  disdained  to 
create  mankind,  it  is  inconceivable  he  should 
disdain  to  govern  them?  How  do  you  reply  to 
a  second,  the  inconceivableness  that  a  perfect 
being  should  form  intelligences,  and  not  pre- 
scribe their  devotion  to  his  glory?  And  what 
do  you  say  to  a  third,  that  religion  is  complete- 
ly formed,  and  fully  proved  in  every  man's 
conscience? 

Do  you  take  the  part  of  denying  a  divine 
revelation?  And  is  this  the  system  which  is  ex- 
empt from  difficulties?  Can  you  really  prove 
that  our  books  were  not  composed  Jjy  the  au- 
thors to  whom  they  are  ascribed?  Can  you 
really  prove  that  those  men  have  not  wrought 
miracles?  Can  you  really  prove  that  the  Bible 
is  not  the  book  the  most  luminous,  and  the 
most  sublime,  that  ever  appeared  on  earth,' 
Can  you  really  prove,  that  fishermen,  publi- 
cans, and  tent-makers,  and  whatever  was  low- 
est among  the  mean  populace  of  Judea;  can 
you  prove,  that  people  of  this  description,  have 
without  divine  assistance,  spoken  of  the  origin 
of  the  world;  and  of  the  perfections  of  God;  of 
the  nature  of  man,  his  constitution,  and  his  du- 
ties, in  a  manner  more  grand,  noble,  and  better 
supported  than  Plato,  than  Zeno,  than  Epicu- 
rus, and  all  the  sublime  geniuses,  which  render 
antiquity  venerable,  and  which  still  fill  the 
universe  with  their  fame? 

Do  you  espouse  the  cause  of  deism?  Do  you 
say  with  the  Latitudinarian,  that  if  there  be  a 
religion,  it  is  not  shut  up  in  the  narrow  bounds 
which  we  prescribe?  Do  you  maintain  that  all 
religions  are  indifferent?  Do  you  give  a  false 
gloss  to  the  apostle's  words,  that  "  in  all  na- 
tions he  that  feareth  God  is  accepted  of  him?" 
Acts  X.  35.  And  is  tliis  the  system  which  is 
exempt  from  difficulties?  How,  superseding  thq 
authority  of  the  Bible,  will  you  maintain  this 
principle?  How  will  you  maintain  it  against 
the  terrors  God  denounces  against  the  base, 
"  and  the  fearful,"  Rev.  xxi.  8;  against  the  in- 
junction "  to  go  out  of  Babylon;  against  the 
duty  prescribed  of  confessing  him  in  presence 
of  all  men,"  Isa.  xlviii.  20;  Matt.  x.  32;  and 
with  regard  to  the  fortitude  he  requires  us  to 
display  on  the  rack,  and  when  surrounded  with 
fire  and  fagots,  and  when  called  to  brave  them 
for  the  sake  of^  truth!  How  will  you  maintain 
it  against  the  care  he  has  taken  to  teach  you 
the  truth  without  any  mixture  of  lies? 

Do  you  take  the  part  of  believing  nothing? 
Do  you  conclude  from  these  difficulties,  that 
the  best  system  is  to  have  none  at  all.  Obsti- 
nate Pyrrhonian,  you  are  then  resolved  to  doubt 
of  all!  And  is  tliis  the  system  which  is  exempt 
from  difficulties?  When  you  shall  be  agreed 
with  yourself;  when  you  have  conciliated  your 
singular  system  with  tho  convictions  of  your 


360 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  THE 


[Ser.  XCIII. 


mind,  with  the  Bentiments  of  your  heart,  and 
with  the  dictates  of  your  conscience,  then  you 
ehall  see  wliat  we  have  to  rei)ly. 

What  tiien  shall  you  do  to  find  a  light  with- 
out darkness,  and  an  evidence  to  your  mind? 
Do  you  take  the  part  of  the  libertine?  Do  you 
abandon  to  colleges  the  care  of  religion,  and 
leaving  the  doctors  to  waste  life  deciding  who 
is  wrong,  and  who  is  right,  are  you  determined 
as  to  yourself  to  rush  head  foremost  into  the 
world?  \)o  you  say  witli  tiie  profane,  "  Let  us 
cat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die?"  Do  you 
enjoy  the  present  without  pursuing  uncertain 
rewards,  and  alarming  your  mind  with  fears  of 
miseries  which  perhaps  may  never  come?  And 
is  this  the  system  destitute  of  mysteries?  Is  this 
the  system  preferred  to  what  is  said  by  our  apos- 
tles, our  evangelists,  our  doctors,  our  pastms,  and 
by  all  the  holy  men  God  has  raised  up  "for  the 
perfecting  of  the  saints,  and  for  the  work  of  tlie 
ministry?"  But  though  the  whole  of  your  ob- 
jections were  founded;  though  the  mysteries  of 
the  gospel  were  a  thousand  times  more  dilKcult 
to  penetrate;  though  our  knowledge  were  in- 
comparably more  circumscribed;  and  though 
religion  should  be  infinitely  less  demonstrated 
than  it  is;  siiould  this  be  the  part  you  ought  to 
take?  The  sole  probability  of  religion,  should 
it  not  induce  us,  if  not  to  believe  it,  yet  at  least, 
£0  to  act,  as  if  in  fact  we  did  believe  it?  And 
the  mere  alternative  of  an  eternal  happiness,  or 
an  eternal  misery,  should  it  not  sulllce  to  re- 
strict us  within  the  limits  of  duty,  and  to  regu- 
late our  life,  iir  such  sort,  that  if  there  be  a  hell, 
we  may  avoid  its  torments? 

We  conc}ude.  Religion  has  its  mysteries; 
we  acknowledge  it  with  j)leasure.  Religion  has 
its  difficulties;  we  avow  it.  Religion  is  shook 
(we  grant  this  for  the  moment  to  unbelievers, 
though  we  detest  it  in  our  hearts,)  religion  is 
shook,  and  ready  to  fall  by  brilliant  wits.  But 
after  all,  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel  are  not  of 
that  cast  which  should  render  a  religion  doubt- 
ful. But  after  all,  Cliristianity  all  shook,  all 
wavering,  and  ready  to  fall,  as  it  may  appear 
to  the  intidel,  contains  what  is  most  certain,  and 
the  wisest  part  a  rational  man  can  talie,  is  to 
adiiere  to  it  with  an  inviolable  attachment. 

But  how  evident  soever  these  arguments  may 
be,  and  however  strong  this  apology  for  tiie 
.  difficulties  of  religion  may  appear,  there  always 
remains  a  question  on  this  subject,  and  indeed 
an  important  question,  which  we  cannot  omit 
resolving  without  leaving  a  chasm  in  this  dis- 
course. Why  these  mysteries?  Why  these  sha- 
dowa*  And  why  this  darkness?  Does  not  the 
goodness  of  God  engage  to  remove  this  stum- 
bling-block, and  to  give  us  a  religion  radiant 
with  truth,  and  destitute  of  any  obscuring  veil? 
There  are  various  reasons,  my  brethren,  which 
render  certain  doctrines  of  religion  impene- 
trable to  us. 

The  first  argument  of  the  weakness  of  our 
knowledge  is  derived  from  the  limits  of  the  hu- 
man mind.  It  is  requisite  that  you  should  fa- 
vour me  here  with  a  little  more  of  recollection 
than  is  usually  bestowed  on  a  sermon.  It  is  not 
requisite  to  bo  a  pliilosoplierto  become  a  Chris- 
tian. Tlie  doctrines  of  our  religion,  and  the 
precepts  of  our  moral  code,  are  sanctioned  by 
the  testimony  of  an  infallible  God:  and  not  de- 
riving tlieir  origin  from  tiie  speculations  of  men, 


it  is  not  from  their  approbation  that  they  derive 
their  authority.  Meanwhile,  it  is  a  felicity,  we 
must  confess,  and  an  anticijiation  of  the  happy 
period  when  our  faith  shall  be  changed  to  sight, 
to  find  in  sound  reason  the  basis  of  all  the  grand 
truths  religion  reveals,  and  to  convince  our- 
selves by  experience,  that  the  more  we  know 
of  man,  the  more  we  see  tliat  religion  was  made 
for  man.  Let  us  return  to  our  first  principle. 
The  narrow  limits  of  the  human  mind  shall 
open  one  source  of  ligiit  on  the  subject  we  dis- 
cuss; tliey  shall  convince  us,  tliat  minds  cir- 
cumscrilied,  as  ours,  cannot  before  the  time  pe- 
netrate far  into  tlie  adorable  mysteries  of  faith. 
We  have  elsewhere  distinguished  three  facul- 
ties in  tiie  mind  of  man,  or  rather  three  classes 
of  faculties  wliich  comprise  whatever  we  know 
of  thisspirit;  tiio  faculty  of  thinking;  the  faculty 
oi' feeling;  and  the  faculty  oHoving.  Examine 
these  three  faculties,  and  you  will  be  convinced 
that  the  mind  of  man  is  circumscribed  within 
narrow  bounds;  they  are  so  closely  circum- 
scribed, that  while  attentively  contemplating  a 
certain  object,  they  cannot  attend  to  any  other. 
You  experience  this  daily  with  regard  to  the 
faculty  of  thinking.  Some  persons,  I  allow, 
extend  attention  much  beyond  common  men; 
but  in  all  it  is  extremely  confined.  This  is  so 
received  an  opinion,  that  we  regard  as  prodigies 
of  intellect,  those  who  have  the  art  of  attending 
closely  to  two  or  three  objects  at  once;  or  of  di- 
recting the  attention,  without  a  glance  of  the 
eye,  on  any  game,  apparently  less  invented  to 
unbend  than  to  exercise  the  mind.  Meanwhile, 
this  power  is  extremely  limited  in  all  men.  If 
the  mind  can  distinctly  glance  on  two  or  three 
objects. at  once,  the  fourth  or  the  fifth  confounds 
it.  Properly  to  study  a  subject,  we  must  attend 
to  that  alone;  be  abstracted  from  all  others, 
forgetful  of  what  we  do,  and  blind  to  what  we 
see. 

The  faculty  of  feeling  is  as  circumscribed  as 
that  of  thinking.  One  sensation  absorbs  or  di- 
niiiiishes  another.  A  wound  received  in  the 
heat  of  battle;  in  the  tumult,  or  in  the  sight  of 
tlie  general  whose  approbation  we  seek,  is  less 
acute  than  it  would  be  on  a  ditferent  occasion. 
For  the  like  reason  the  same  pain  we  have 
borne  during  the  day,  is  insupportable  in  the 
night.  Violent  anguish  renders  us  insensible 
of  a  diminutive  pain.  Whatever  diverts  from 
a  pleasing  sensation  diminishes  the  pleasure, 
and  blunts  enjoyment;  and  this  is  done  by  the 
reason  already  assigned;  that  while  the  faculty 
is  attentive  to  one  object,  it  is  incapable  of  ap- 
plication to  another. 

It  is  the  same  with  regard  to  the  faculty  of 
loving.  It  rarely  happens  that  a  man  can  in- 
dulge two  or  three  leading  passions  at  once: 
"  No  man  can  serve  two  masters:  for  either  he 
will  hate  the  one,  and  love  the  other;  or  else  ho 
will  hold  to  the  one,  and  despise  the  other." 
So  is  the  assertion  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  knew 
the  human  heart  better  than  all  the  i)hilosopliere 
put  together.  The  passion  of  avarice,  for  the 
most  part,  diminishes  the  passion  of  glory;  and 
the  passion  of  glory,  diminishes  that  of  avarice. 
It  is  the  same  witii  the  other  passions. 

Besides,  not  only  an  object  engrossing  a  fa- 
culty, obstructs  its  |)rofouiid  attention  to  any 
other  object  related  to  that  faculty;  but  when  a 
faculty  is  deeply  engrossed  by  an  object,  all 


Ser.  XCIII.] 


CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 


361 


others,  if  I  may  so  speak,  rciiiain  in  solitude 
and  slumber;  tlio  capacity  of  the  soul  bciiiir 
wholly  absorbod.  A  man  who  concentrates 
himself  in  research,  in  the  illustration  of  a  dilli- 
culty,  in  the  solution  of  a  problem,  in  the  con- 
templation of  a  combined  truth;  he  loses  for  the 
moment,  the  faculty  of  feelinir,  and  becomes 
insensible  of  sound,  of  noise,  of  light.  A  man, 
on  the  contrary,  who  freely  abandons  himself 
to  a  violent  sensation,  or  whom  God  aillicts 
acutely,  loses  for  the  time,  the  ficuhy  of  think- 
ing. Speak,  reason,  and  examine;  draw  con- 
secjuences,  and  all  that  is  foreign  to  this  point: 
lie  is  no  longer  a  thinking  being;  he  is  a  feeling 
being,  and  wholly  so.  Thus  the  principle  we 
establish  is  an  indisputable  axiom  in  the  study 
of  man,  that  the  human  mind  is  circumscribed, 
and  inclosed  in  very  narrow  limits. 

The  relation  of  this  principle  to  the  subject 
we  discuss,  obtrudes  itself  on  our  regard.  A 
slight  reflection  on  the  limits  of  the  human  mind 
will  convince  us,  that  men  who  make  so  slow 
a  progress  in  abstruse  science,  can  never  fathom 
the  deep  mysteries  of  religion.  And  it  is  the 
more  evident,  as  these  limited  faculties  can 
never  be  wholly  ai)plied  to  the  stud}'  of  truth. 
There  is  no  moment  of  life,  in  which  they  are 
not  divided;  there  is  no  moment  in  which  they 
are  not  engaged  in  the  care  of  the  bod}',  in  the 
recollection  of  some  fugitive  ideas,  and  on  sub- 
jects which  have  no  connexion  with  those  to 
which  we  would  direct  our  study. 

A  second  reason  of  the  limits  of  our  know- 
ledge arises  from  those  very  mysteries  which 
excite  obscurity,  astonishment,  and  awe.  What 
are  those  mysteries?     Of  what  do  they  treat? 
They  treat  of  what  is  the  most  elevated  and 
sublime:  they  concern  the  essence  of  the  Cre- 
ator: tiiey  concern  the  attributes  of  the  Supreme 
Being:  they  concern  whatever  has  been  tliought 
the  most  immense  in  the  mind  of  eternal  wis- 
dom: they  concern  the  traces  of  that  impetuous 
wind,   "  which   blows  where  it  lisleth,"   and 
which  moves  in  one  moment  to  every  part  of 
the  universe.    And  we,  insignificant  beings;  we 
altogether  obstructed,  confounded,  and  absorb- 
ed, we  affect  an  air  of  surprise  because  we  can- 
not fathom  the  depths  of  those  mysteries!     It  is 
not  merely  while  on  earth  that  we  cannot  com- 
prehend those  immensities;  but  wc  can  never 
comprehend  tliem  in  the  other  world;  because 
God  is  always  unlimited,  always  infinite,  and 
always  above  the  reach  of  circumscribed  intel- 
ligences; and  because  we  shall  be  always  finite, 
always  limited,  always  creatures  circumscribed. 
Perfect    knowledge    belongs    to    God    alone. 
"  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God?    Canst 
thou  find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection?    It 
is  as  high  as  heaven,  what  canst  thou  do?  deeper 
than  hell,  what  canst  tliou  know?"  Job  xi.  1,  S. 
"  Where  wast  thou  when  he  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  the  eartli?     Wiien  he  sluit  up  the  sea 
with  doors?    When  he  made  the  clouds  the  gar- 
ments thereof,  and  thick  darkness  a  swaddling 
band  for  it.     When  he  subjected  it  to  his  laws, 
and  prescribed  its  barriers,  and  said,  hiliierto 
shall  thou  come,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves 
be  stayed?"  xxxviii.   4.  9 — 11.     '"Who  hath 
known  the  mind  of  the  Lord,  or  who  hath  been 
Ids  counsellor?     Or  who  hath  first  given  him, 
and  it  shall  be  recompensed  unto  him  again? 
O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom, 
Vol.  II.— 46 


and  of  the  knowledge  of  God^  how  unsearchable 
are  liis  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding 
out!"  Rom.  xi.  33 — 35.  Let  us  adore  a  Being 
so  immense;  and  let  his  incomprehensibility 
servo  to  give  us  the  more  exalted  ideas  of  his 
grandeur;  and  seeing  we  can  never  know  him 
to  perfection,  let  us,  at  the  least,  form  tiie  noble 
desire  of  knowing  him  as  far  as  it  is  allowable 
to  finite  intelligences.  And  as  Manoah,  who, 
afler  receiving  the  mysterious  vision  recorded 
Judges  xiii.  prayed  the  angel  of  the  Lord,  say- 
ing, "Tell  me,  I  "pray  thee,  thy  name;"  and 
received  the  answer,  "  It  is  wonderful;"  so 
should  wc  say  wit!»  this  holy  man,  "  I  pray 
tliee,  tell  me  tliy  name,"  give  me  to  know  thid 
"  wonderful  name."  Let  us  say  with  Mo.ses, 
"  Lord,  let  me  see  thy  glory,"  Exod.  xxxiii.  18. 
And  with  the  ]>rophet,  "  Lord,  open  thou  mino 
eyes,  that  I  may  behold  the  marvels  of  thy  law," 
I's.  cxix.  18. 

The  lliird  cause  of  the  obscurity  of  our  know- 
ledge is,  that  truths  tiie  most  simple,  and  ob- 
jects the  least  combined,  have,  however,  certain 
depths  and  abysses  beyond  the  reach  of  thought; 
because  truths  the  most  simple,  and  objects  the 
least  combined,  have  a  certain  tie  willi  infinity, 
that  tlicy  cannot  be  comprehended  without 
comprehending  this  infinity.  Nothing  is  more 
simple,  nothing  is  less  combined,  in  regard  to 
me,  than  this  proposition;  tliere  are  certain  ex- 
terior olijocts  which  actually  strike  my  eyes, 
which  excite  certain  emotions  in  my  brain,  and 
certain  perceptions  in  my  mind.  Meanwhile, 
this  proposition  so  simple,  and  so  little  com- 
bined, has  certain  depths  and  obscurities  above 
my  thought,  because  it  is  connected  with  other 
inquiries  concerning  this  infinity,  which  I  can- 
not compreiiend.  It  is  connected  witli  tliis; 
cannot  the  perfect  Being  excite  certain  percep- 
tions in  my  mind,  and  emotions  in  my  brain 
witliout  the  aid  of  exterior  objects?  It  is  con- 
nected with  another;  will  the  goodness  and 
trutii  of  this  perfect  Being  suffer  certain  per- 
cei)tions  to  be  excited  in  the  mind,  and  emotions 
in  tlie  brain,  by  which  we  forcibly  believe  that 
certain  exterior  objects  exist,  when  in  fact,  they 
do  not  exist'  It  is  connected  with  divers  other 
inquiries  of  like  nature,  which  involve  us  in 
discussions,  whicii  absorb  and  confound  our 
feeble  genius.  Thus,  we  arc  not  only  incapable 
of  fathoming  certain  inquiries  which  regard  in- 
finity, but  wc  are  equally  incapable  of  fully 
satisfying  ourselves  concerning  those  that  are 
simple,  because  they  are  connected  with  the 
infinite.  Prudence,  therefore,  requires  tliat  men 
should  admit,  as  proved,  the  truths  which  have, 
in  regard  to  them,  the  characters  of  demonstra- 
tion. It  is  by  these  characters  they  should 
judffc.  But  after  all,  tiiere  is  none  but  the  per- 
fectBcing,  who  can  have  perfect  demonstration; 
at  least,  tiie  perfect  Being  alone  can  fully  per- 
ceive in  the  immensity  of  his  knowledge,  all 
the  connexions  which  finite  beings  have  with 
the  infinite. 

A  fourth  reason  of  the  obscurity  of  our  know- 
ledge, is  the  grand  end  God  proposed  when  he 
placed  us  upon  the  earth:  tliis  end  is  our  sancti- 
fication. Tlie  questions  on  which  religion  leaves 
so  much  obscurity,  do  not  devolve  on  simple 
principles,  which  may  be  comprehended  in  a 
moment.  The  acutest  mathematician,  he  who 
can  make  a  [lerfect  demonstration  of  a  given 


362 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  TIIL  CIIKISTIAiN  RELIGION.        [Ser.  XCIIJ. 


number,  cannot  do  it  in  a  moment,  if  that 
number  bu  complicated:  and  tlie  tardy  conipre- 
lieiision  of  liim  to  wliom  a  coniplii^atcd  pro- 
blem is  demonstrated,  requires  a  still  i^reater 
length  of  time.  He  nmsl  comprehend  by  a 
succession  of  ideas  what  cannot  be  i)rovcd  by 
a  single  glance  of  the  eye.  A  man,  j)osted  on 
an  elevated  tower,  ma}'  see  at  once  the  whole 
of  a  considerable  army  in  motion;  but  he  at 
the  base  of  this  tower,  can  see  them  only  as 
llicy  present  themsulves  in  succession.  God 
is  e.valled  above  all  creatures;  he  sees  the 
whole  by  a  single  regard.  He  has  but,  if  I 
may  so  npeak,  to  ajjply  his  mind,  and  all  are 
seen  at  once.  Jiut  we,  poor  abject  creatures, 
we  are  placed  iu  tiie  humblest  point  of  the  uni- 
verse. How  then  can  we,  during  the  period 
of  f'fty,  or  if  you  please,  a  hundred  years  of 
life,  destined  to  active  duties,  how  can  we  pre- 
sume to  make  a  combination  of  all  the  Crea- 
tor's perfections  and  designs,  though  he  him- 
self should  deign  in  so  great  a  work  to  be  our 
guide.  Great  men  have  said,  that  all  possible 
plans  were  presented  to  the  mind  of  God  when 
lie  made  the  universe,  and  that,  comparing 
them  one  with  another,  he  chose  the  best.  Let 
us  make  the  supposition  wilhoul  adopting  it; 
let  us  suppose  that  God,  wishful  to  justify  to 
our  mind  the  plan  he  has  adopted,  should  pre- 
sent to  us  all  his  plans;  and  comparison  alone 
could  ensure  approbation;  but  does  it  imi)ly  a 
contradiction,  that  fifty,  or  a  hundred  years  of 
life,  engrossed  by  active  duties,  should  sulhco 
for  so  vast  a  design.'  Had  God  encumbered 
religion  with  the  illustration  of  all  abstruse 
«loctrines,  concerning  which  it  observes  a  pro- 
found silence;  and  with  the  ex|)licalion  of  all 
the  mysteries  it  imperfectly  reveals;  had  he  e.\- 
plained  to  us  tiie  depths  of  his  nature  and  es- 
sence; had  he  discovered  to  us  the  immense 
combination  of  his  attributes;  had  he  qualified 
us  to  trace  the  unsearchable  ways  of  his  Spirit 
in  our  heart;  had  he  shown  us  the  origin,  the 
end,  and  arrangement  of  his  counsels;  had  ho 
wished  to  gratify  the  infinite  inquiries  of  our 
curiosity,  and  to  acquaint  us  with  the  object 
of  his  views  during  the  absorbing  revolutions 
prior  to  the  birth  of  time,  and  witli  tliose  which 
must  follow  it;  had  he  thus  nmlliplied  to  in- 
finity speculative  ideas,  what  time  should  we 
have  had  lor  practical  duties.'  Dissipated  by 
the  cares  of  life,  occupied  with  ils  wants,  and 
sentenced  to  the  toils  it  in)()oses,  what  time 
would  have  remained  to  succour  the  wretched, 
to  visit  the  sick,  and  to  comfort  the  distressed.' 
Yea,  and  what  is  still  more,  to  study  and  van- 
quish our  own  heart' — O  how  admirably  is  the 
way  of  God,  in  the  restriction  of  our  knowledge, 
worthy  of  his  wisdom!  Ho  has  taugiit  us  no- 
thing but  what  has  the  most  intimate  connex- 
ion with  our  duties,  that  we  might  ever  be  at- 
tentive to  them,  and  that  tliere  is  nothing  in 
religion  which  can  possibly  attract  us  from 
those  duties. 

."i.  Tiic  miseries  inseparable  from  life,  are 
the  ullunalu  nsison  of  th(!  obscurity  of  our 
knowledge;  both  in  religion  and  in  nature.  To 
ask  why  God  has  involved  religion  in  so  much 
darknes.s,  is  asking  why  he  has  not  given  us  a 
nature  like  those  spirits  which  are  not  clothed 
with  mortal  Hesli.  VVe  must  class  the  obscurity 
of  our  knowledge  with  the  other  infirmities  of 


life,  with  our  exile,  our  imprisonment,  our 
sickness,  our  j)erfid3',  our  infidelit}',  with  the 
loss  of  our  relatives,  of  separation  from  our 
dearest  friends.  We  nmst  answer  the  objec- 
tion drawn  from  tlic  darkness  which  envelopes 
most  of  the  objects  of  sense,  as  we  do  to  those 
drawn  from  the  com|)lication  of  our  calamities. 
It  is,  that  this  world  is  not  the  abode  of  our 
felicity.  It  is,  that  the  awful  wounds  of  sin  are 
not  yet  wholly  healed.  It  is,  that  our  soul  is 
still  clothed  with  matter.  W^e  must  lament 
the  miseries  of  a  life  in  which  reason  is  en- 
slaved, in  which  the  spiiere  of  our  knowledge 
is  so  confined,  and  in  which  we  feel  ourselves 
obstructed  at  every  step  of  our  meditation  and 
research.  VVe  have  a  soul  greedj'  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge;  a  soul  susceptible  of  an  infinity 
of  perceptions  and  ideas;  a  soul  to  which  know- 
ledge and  intelligence  are  the  nourishment  and 
food:  and  this  soul  is  localized  in  a  world:  but 
in  what  world.'  In  a  world,  where  we  do  but 
imperfectly  know  ourselves;  in  a  world,  where 
our  sublimest  knowledge,  and  profoundest  re- 
searches resemlile  little  children  who  divert 
themselves  at  play.  The  idea  is  not  mine;  it 
is  suggested  by  Hi-  Paul,  in  tiie  words  subse- 
quent to  our  te.\t.  "  When  I  was  a  child,  I 
spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I 
thought  as  a  child."  The  contrast  is  not  un- 
just. Literally,  all  this  knowledge,  all  these 
sermons,  all  this  divinity,  and  all  those  com- 
mentaries, are  but  as  the  simple  comparisons 
employed  to  make  children  understand  e.xalted 
truths.  They  arc  but  as  the  types,  which  God 
employed  in  the  ancient  law  to  instruct  the 
Jews,  while  in  a  slate  of  infancy.  How  im- 
perfect were  those  types!  What  relation  had 
a  shee|)  to  the  Victim  of  the  new  covenant.' 
What  pro[iortion  had  a  priest  to  the  Sovereign 
Ponlifl"  of  the  church!  Sucli  is  tiie  state  of 
man  while  here  i)laced  on  the  earth. 

But  a  happier  period  must  follow  this  of  hu- 
miliation. "  When  I  was  a  child,  I  spake  as 
a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I  thought  as 
a  child;  but  when  I  became  a  man,  I  put  away 
childish  tilings."  Charming  thought,  my  bre- 
thren, of  the  change  that  death  shall  j)roduce 
in  us;  it  shall  supersede  the  puerilities  of  in- 
fiincy;  it  shall  draw  the  curtain  which  conceals 
the  objects  of  expectation.  How  ravished  must 
the  soul  be  when  tiiis  curtain  is  uplilled!  In- 
stead of  worsiiipping  iu  these  a.'ssemblies,  it 
finds  itself  instantly  elevated  to  the  choirs  of 
angels,  "  the  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
before  the  Lord."  Instead  of  hearing  the 
hymns  we  sing  to  his  glor)',  it  instantly  hears 
the  hallelujahs  of  celestial  spirits,  and  the 
dread  shouts  of  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  tiio  Lord 
of  hosts:  the  whole  earth  is  fiill  of  thy  glory." 
Instead  of  listening  to  this  frail  preacher,  who 
endeavours  to  develoj»  the  imperfect  notions 
he  litis  imbibed  in  a  confined  understanding, 
it  instantly  hears  the  great  head  of  the  church, 
"  who  is  the  author,  and  finisher  of  our  faith." 
Instead  of  perceiving  some  traces  of  God's  per- 
fections in  the  beauties  of  nature,  it  finds  itself 
in  the  midst  of  his  sublimest  works;  in  the 
midst  of"  the  heavenly  .Jerusalem,  whose  gales 
are  of  pearl,  whoso  foundations  are  of  precious 
stones,  and  whose  walls  are  of  jasper." — Do 
we  then  still  fear  deatii!  And  have  we  still 
need  ol'  comforters  when  we  approach  that 


iu 


Seh.  XCIV.] 


CONSECRATION  OF  THE,  &c. 


363 


happy  period?    And  Iiave  wc  still  need  to  re- 
sumo  all  our  constancy,  and  all  our  fortitude 
to  support  the  idea  of  dying!     And  is  it  still 
necessary  to  pluck  us  from  the  cartii,  and  to 
tear  us  by  force  to  the  celestial  abode,  which 
shall  consummate  our  felicity?     Ah!  how  the 
prophet  Elisha,  who  saw  his  master  ascend  in 
tho  chariot  of  fire,  ploughing  the  air  on  his  I)ril- 
liant  throne,  and  crossing  the   vast  expanse 
which  separates  heaven  from  earth;  how  Elisha 
regretted  the  absence  of  so  worthy  a  master, 
whom  he  now  saw  no  more,  and  wliotn  he 
must  never  see  in  life;  how  he  cried  in  that 
moment,  "  My  father,  my  father,  the  chariot 
(if  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof"     These 
emotions  are  strikingly  congenial  to  tlio  senti- 
riients  of  self-love,  so  dear  to  us.     ]5ut  Elijah 
himself — Elijah,  did  he  fear  to  soar  in  so  sub- 
lime a  course!     f^lijah  already  ascended  to  the 
middle  regions  of  tlic  air,  in  whoso  eyes  the 
oartli  appeared  but  as  an  atom  retiring  out  of 
sight;  Elijaii,  whose  head  already  reached  to 
licaven;  did  Elijah  regret  the  transition  he  was 
about  to  complete!     Did  he  regret  the  world, 
and  its  inhabitants! — O  soul  of  man; — regene- 
rate soul — daily  called    to   break   the  fetters 
which  unite  thee  to  a  mortal  body,  take  thy 
flight    towards    heaven.      Ascend    this    fiery 
chariot,  which  God  has  sent  to  transport  thee 
above  the  earth   where  thou   dwcllest.     See 
the  heavens  which  open  for  thy  reception;  ad- 
mire the  beauties,  and  estimate  the  charms  al- 
ready realized  by  thy  hope.     Taste  those  in- 
ert'ablc  dcliglits.   Anticipate  the  perfect  felicity, 
with  which  death  is  about  to  invest  thee.  Thou 
needeet  no  more  than  this  last  moment  of  my 
ministry.     Deatli  himself  is  about  to  do  all  tho 
rest,  to  dissipate  all  thy  darkness,  to  justify  re- 
ligion, and  to  crown  tliy  hopes. 

SERMON  XCIV. 


CONSECRATION    OF    THE    CHURCH 
AT  VOORBURGH,  1726. 


EzEK.  ix.  16. 
JiWiough  I  have  cast  than  far  off  among  the  hea- 
then, and  among  the  countries,  yet  will  1  he  to 
them  as  a  little  sanctaaiij  in  the  countries  where 
they  shall  come. 

The  cause  of  our  assembling  to-day,  my 
brethren,  is  one  of  the  most  evident  marks  of 
God's  powerful  protection,  extended  to  a  mul- 
titude of  exiles  whom  these  provinces  have  en- 
circled with  a  protecting  arm.  It  is  a  fact, 
tliat  since  we  abandoned  our  native  land,  we 
have  been  loaded  with  divine  favours.  Some 
of  us  have  lived  in  affluence;  others  in  the  en- 
joyments of  mediocrity,  often  preferable  to  af- 
lluence;  and  all  have  seen  this  confidence 
crowned,  which  has  enabled  them  to  say,  while 
living  even  without  resource,  "  In  the  moun- 
tain of  the  Lord,  it  shall  be  seen;  in  the  moun- 
tain of  the  Lord,  he  will  there  provide." 

liut  how  consoling  soever  the  idea  may  be 
in  our  dispersion  of  that  gracious  Providence, 
which  has  never  ceased  to  watch  for  our  wel- 
fare, it  is  not  the  principal  subject  of  our  grati- 
tude. God  has  corresponded  more  directly 
with  tho  object  with  which  we  were  animated 


when  we  were  enabled  to  bid  adieu,  perhaps 
an  eternal  adieu,  to  our  country:  what  prompt- 
ed us  to  e.xile  was  not  the  hope  of  finding  more 
engaging  company,  a  happier  climate  and  more 
permanent  establishments.  Motives  altogether 
of  another  kind  animated  our  hearts.  \Ve  had 
seen  the  edifices  reduced  to  the  dust,  which 
we  had  been  accustomed  to  make  resound  with 
the  praises  of  (Jod:  we  had  heard  "  the  children 
of  Edom,"  with  hatchets  in  their  hand,  shout 
against  those  sacred   mansions,  "  down   with 

them;  down  with  them,  even  to  tho  ground." 

May  you,  ye  natives  of  these  provinces,  among 
whom  it  has  pleased  the  Lord  to  lead  us,  ever 
be  ignorant  of  the  like  calamities.     May  you 
indeed  never  know  them,  but  by  the  experience 
of  those  to  whom  you  have  so  amply  aiforded 
the  means  of  subsistence.     We  could  not  sur- 
vive the  liberty  of  our  conscience,   we  have 
wandered  to  seek  it,  thougli  it  should  be  in 
dens  and  deserts.     Zeal  gave  animation  to  the 
aged,  whose  limbs  were  benumbed  with  years. 
Fathers  and  mothers  took  their  children  ir'i  their 
arms,  who  were  too  young  to  know  tlie  danger 
from  which  they  were  plucked:  each  was  con- 
tent "  with  his  soul  for  a  prey,"  and  required 
nothing  but  the  precious  liberty  he  had  lost. 
We  have  found  it  among  you,  our  generous 
benefactors;  you  have  received  us  as  your  bre- 
thren, as  your  children;  and  have  admitted  us 
into  your  churches.     We  have  communicated 
with  you  iit  the  same  table;  and  now  you  have 
permitted  us,  a  handful  of  exiles,  to  build  a 
church  to  that  God  whom  we  mutually  adore. 
You  wish  also  to  partake  with  tis  in  our  grati- 
tude, and  to  join  your  homages  with  those  we 
have  just  rendered  to  him  in  this  new  edifice. 
But  alas!    those  of  our  fellow-countrymen, 
whose  minds  are  still  impressed  with  the  recol- 
lection of  those  former  churches,   whose  de- 
struction occasioned  tiiem  much  grief,  cannot 
taste  a  joy  wholly  pure.     The  ceremonies  of 
this  day  will  associate  themselves,  with  those 
celebrated  on  laying  the  foundation-stone  of 
the  second  temple.     The  priests  oificiated,  in- 
deed,  in  their  pontifical  robes;    the    Lévites, 
sons  of  Asaph,  caused  their  cymbals  to  resound 
afar;    one    clioir   admirably  concerted    its  re- 
sponse to  another;  all  tlie  ])eople  rai.sed  a  shout 
of  joy,  because  tlie  foundation  of  the   Lord's 
house  was  laid.     But  the  chiefs  of  the  fathers, 
and  the  aged  men,  who  had  seen  the  superior 
glory  of  the  former  temple,  wept  aloud,  and 
in  such  sort  that  one  could  not  distinguish  tho 
voice  of  joy  from  the  voice  of  weeping. 

Come,  notwithstanding,  my  dear  brethren, 
and  let  us  mutually  praise  the  God,  who,  "  in 
tlie  midst  of  wrath  remembers  mercy,"  Hab. 
iii.  2.  Let  us  gratefully  meditate  on  this  fresh 
accomplishment  of  the  jjrophecy  I  have  just 
read  in  your  presence;  "  Though  I  have  cast 
them  far  off  among  the  heathen,  and  amonw 
the  countries,  yet  will  I  be  to  tlicm  as  a  little 
sanctuary  in  the  countries  where  they  shall 
come."  These  are  God's  words  to  Ezekiel:  to 
understand  them,  and  with  that  view  I  attempt 
the  discussion,  we  must  trace  the  events  to 
their  source,  and  go  back  to  the  twenty-ninth 
year  of  king  Josiah,  to  form  correct  ideas  of 
the  end  of  our  prophet's  ministry.  It  was  in 
this  year,  that  Nabopolassar,  kina  of  Babylon, 
and  Astyages,  king  of  Media,  being  allied  by 


364 


CONSECRATION  OF  THE 


[Ser.  XCIV. 


the  marriage  of  Nebiicliadnezzar,  son  of  Nabo- 
polassar,  with  Aiiiytis,  daughter  of  Astyages, 
united  their  forces  against  the  Assyrians,  then 
the  most  ancient  and  fonnidable  i>o\vor,  took 
IS'inevci),  tiicir  capital,  and  thus,  by  a  peculiar 
dispensation  of  Providence,  they  accomplish- 
ed, and  witiiout  tiiinUing  so  to  do,  the  pro- 
phecies of  Jonah,  iN'ahum,  and  Zephaniah, 
against  that  celebrated  empire. 

From  that  period  the  empire  of  Nineveh 
and  of  Babylon  formed  [again]  but  one,  the 
terror  of  all  tiieir  neighbours,  who  had  just 
grounds  of  appreliension  soon  to  experience  a 
lot  like  that  of  Nineveh. 

This  induced  Pharaoh  Nechoh,  king  of 
Egypt,  who,  of  all  the  potentates  of  the  east, 
was  the  best  qualified  to  resist  those  conque- 
rors, to  march  at  the  head  of  a  great  army, 
and  make  war  with  a  prince,  who  for  the  fu- 
ture, to  use  the  expression  of  a  prophet,  was 
regarded  as  "  ilie  luunmer  of  all  the  earth," 
Jer.  1.  32.  Pharaoh  took  his  route  througii 
Judea,  and  sent  ambassadors  to  king  Josiah,  to 
solicit  a  pas.sage  through  his  kingdom.  Jo- 
siah's  reply  to  this  embassy,  even  to  this  day, 
astonishes  every  interpreter;  he  took  the  field, 
he  opposed  the  designs  of  Nechoh,  which 
seemed  to  have  no  object  but  to  emancipate 
the  nations  Nebuchadnezzar  had  subjugated, 
and  to  confirm  those  tiiat  desponded  tlirough 
fear  of  being  loaded  with  the  same  chain.  Jo- 
siah, unable  to  frustrate  the  objects  of  Nechoh, 
was  slain  in  the  battle,  and  with  him  seemed 
to  expire  whatever  remained  of  piety  and 
prosperity  in  the  kingdom  of  Judah. 

Pliaraoh  Nechoh  defeated  the  Babylonians 
near  the  Euphrates,  took  Carchemish,the  capi- 
tal of  Mesopotamia,  and,  augmenting  the  plea- 
sure of  victory  by  that  of  revenge,  he  led  his 
victorious  army  through  Judea,  deposed  Je- 
hoaliaz,  son  of  Josiah,  and  placed  Kliakim,  his 
brother,  on  the  throne,  whom  he  surnamed  Je- 
hoiakini,  2  Kings  xxiii. 

From  that  period  Jehoiakim  regarded  the 
king  of  Egypt  as  his  benefactor,  to  whom  he 
was  indebted  for  his  throne  and  his  crown.  He 
believed  that  Pharaoh  Necholi,  whose  sole  au- 
thority had  conferred  the  crown,  was  the  only 
prince  that  could  preserve  it.  The  Jews  at 
once  followed  the  example  of  their  king;  they 
espoused  the  hatred  whicii  subsisted  in  Egypt 
against  the  king  of  Babylon,  and  renewed  with 
Nechoh  an  alliance  the  most  firm  which  had 
ever  subsisted  between  the  two  powers. 

Were  it  rc{[uisitc  to  support  here  what  the 
sacred  history  says  on  this  subject,  I  would  il- 
lustrate at  large  a  passage  of  Herodotus,  who, 
when  speaking  of  the  triumph  of  Pharaoh 
Nechoh,  alHrms,  tliat  after  this  prince  had  ob- 
tained a  glorious  victory  in  tiie  fields  of  Me- 
giddo,  he  took  a  great  city  of  Palestine,  sur- 
rounded with  hills,  whicli  is  called  Cadijtis: 
there  is  not  the  smallest  doubt  but  this  city 
was  Jerusalem,  which  in  the  Scriptures  is  of- 
ten called  holy  by  way  of  excellence;  and  it 


Resuming  the  thread  of  the  history;  this  al- 
liance which  the  Jews  had  contracted  with 
Egypt,  augmented  their  confidence  at  a  time 
when  every  consideration  should  have  abated 
it;  it  elevated  them  with  the  presumptuous  no- 
tion of  being  adequate  to  frustrate  tlie  designs 
of  Nebuchadnezzar,  or  rather  those  of  God 
himself,  who  had  declared  tiiat  he  would  sub- 
jugate all  the  east  to  this  potentate.  He  pre- 
sently retook  from  Pharaoh  Nechoh,  Carche- 
mish,  and  the  other  cities  conquered  by  that 
prince.  He  did  more;  he  transferred  the  war 
into  f^gypt,  after  having  associated  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, his  son,  in  the  empire;  and  after  vari- 
ous advantages  in  that  kingdom,  he  entered  on 
the  expedition  against  Judea,  recorded  in  the 
31th  cliapter  of  the  Second  Book  of  Chroni- 
cles; ho  accomplished  what  Isaiah  had  fore- 
told to  Hczekiah,  that  the  Chaldeans  "  should 
take  his  sons,  and  make  them  eunuchs  in  Baby- 
lon," Isa.  xxxix.  1.  He  plundered  Jerusalem; 
he  put  Jehoiakim  in  chains,  and  placed  his 
brotiier  Jehoiachin  on  the  throne,  who  is  some- 
times called  Jeconiah,  and  sometimes  Coniah; 
and  who  availed  himself  of  the  grace  he  had 
received,  to  rebel  against  his  benefactor.  This 
prince  quickly  revenged  the  perfidy;  he  be- 
sieged Jerusalem,  which  he  had  always  kept 
blockaded  since  the  death  of  Jehoiakim,  and 
he  led  away  a  very  great  number  of  captives 
into  Babylon,  among  whom  was  the  prophet 
Ezekiel. 

Ezekiel  was  raised  up  of  God  to  prophesy 
to  tlie  captive  Jews,  who  constantly  indulged 
the  reverie  of  returning  to  Jerusalem,  while 
Jeremiah  prophesied  to  those  who  were  yet  in 
their  country,  on  whom  awaited  the  same  des- 
tiny. They  laboured  unanimously  to  persuade 
their  countr^'men  to  place  no  confidence  in 
their  connexion  with  F^gypt;  to  make  no  more 
unavailing  efforts  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Ne- 
buchadnezzar; and  to  obey  the  commands  of 
that  prince,  or  rather  the  commands  of  God, 
who  was  wishful,  by  his  ministry,  to  punish 
the  crimes  of  all  the  east. 

Our  prophet  was  transported  into  Jerusalem; 
he  tliere  saw  those  Jews,  wlio,  at  the  very  time 
while  they  continued  to  flatter  them  with  avert- 
ing the  total  ruinof  Judea,  hastened  the  event, 
not  only  by  continuing,  but  by  redoubling  their 
cruelties,  and  their  idolatrous  worship.  At  the 
very  crisis  while  he  beheld  the  infiimous  con- 
duct of  his  countrymen  in  Jerusalem,  lie  heard 
God  himself  announce  the  punishments  with 
which  they  were  about  to  be  overwhelmed; 
and  saying  to  his  ministers  of  vengeance, 
"  Go  through  the  city;  strike,  let  not  your  eye 
spare,  neither  have  ye  pity:  Slay  utterly  old 
and  young,  both  maids  and  little  children;  and 
women. — Defile  my  house,  and  fill  the  courts 
with  the  slain,"  ix.  5 — 7.  But  while  God  de- 
livered a  commission  so  terrible  with  regard  to 
the  abominable  Jews,  ho  cast  a  consoling  re- 
gard on  others;  he  said  to  a  mysterious  person, 
"  Go  tlirough  the  midst  of  the  city,  and  set  a 


was  anciently  designated  by  this  glorious  title,  mark  on  the  foreheads  of  the  men  that  sigh, 
Now,  the  word  liolii,  in  Hebrew,  is  Kcdascha,  and  that  cry  for  the  abominations  committed 
and  in  Syriac  Kidutlia.  To  this  name  Hero-  in  the  midst  thereof"  I  am  grieved  for  the 
dotus  aflixed  a  Greek  termination,  and  called  honour  of  our  critics,  who  have  followed  the 
Kadylis  the  city  that  the  Syrians  or  the  Arabs  Vulgate  version  in  a  reading  whicli  disfigures 
call  Kcdutha,  whicii,  correspondent  to  my  as-  the  text;  "  set  the  letter  thau  on  the  foreheads 
sertion,  was  the  apjwllation  given  to  Jerusalem.  I  of  those  that  sigh."    To  how  many  puerilities 


Ser.  XCIV.] 


CHURCH  AT  VOORBURGH. 


365 


has  this  reading  given  birth?  What  mysteries 
have  they  not  sought  in  tiie  letter  tlictu.'  J5ut 
the  Vulgate  is  the  only  version  wJiich  has  thus 
read  the  passage.  The  word  lltau,  in  Hebrew, 
implies  a  sign;  to  write  this  letter  on  tiie  fore- 
head of  any  one,  is  to  make  a  mark;  and  to 
imprint  a  mark  on  the  foreliead  of  a  man,  is, 
in  the  style  of  prophecy,  to  distinguish  him  by 
some  special  favour.  So  tiie  Seventy,  the 
Arabic,  and  Syriac,  have  rendered  this  exj)res- 
sion.  You  will  find  the  same  figures  employed 
by  St.  John,  in  the  Revelation. 

The  words  of  my  te.\t  have  the  same  import 
as  the  above  passage;  they  may  be  restricted 
to  the  Jews  already  in  ca])tivity;  I  e,\tcnd  them, 
however,  to  the  Jews  who  groaned  for  the 
enormities  committed  by  their  countrymen  in 
Jerusalem.  The  past,  the  present,  and  the  fu- 
ture, time,  arc  sometimes  nndistinguisiied  in 
the  holy  tongue;  especially  by  tlie  prophets,  to 
whom  the  certainty  of  the  future  predicted 
events,  occasioned  them  to  be  contemplated, 
as  present,  or  as  already  past.  Consonant  to 
this  style,  "  I  have  cast  them  far  off  among  tlie 
heathen,"  may  imply,  I  will  cast  them  far  off; 
I  will  disperse  them  among  the  nations,  &c. 

To  both  those  bodies  of  Jews,  of  whom  I 
have  spoken,  1  would  say,  those  already  cap- 
tivated in  Babylon  when  Ezckiel  received  this 
vision,  and  those  who  were  led  away  after  tlie 
total  ruin  of  Jerusalem,  that  however  afflictive 
their  situation  might  appear,  God  would  me- 
liorate it  by  constant  marks  of  tlie  protection 
he  would  afford.  "  Though  I  may  or  have 
cast  them  far  off  among  the  heathen;  and 
among  the  countries;  though  I  may  disperse 
them  among  strange  nations;  yet  1  will  be  to 
them  as  a  little  sanctuary  in  the  countries 
where  they  are  come." 

This  is  the  general  scope  of  the  words  we 
have  read.  Wishful  to  apply  them  to  the  de- 
sign of  this  day,  we  shall  proceed  to  draw  a 
parallel  between  tiie  state  of  the  Jews  in  Baby- 
lon, and  that  in  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
place  the  churches  whose  ruin  we  have  now 
deplored  for  forty  years.  The  dispersion  of  the 
Jews  had  three  distinguished  characters. 
I.  A  character  of  horror; 
H.  A  character  of  justice; 
HI.  A  character  of  mercy. 
A  character  of  horror;  this  people  were  dis- 
persed among  the  nations;  they  were  compel- 
led to  abandon  Jerusalem,  and  to  wander  in  di- 
vers countries.  A  character  of  justice;  God 
himself,  the  God  who  makes  "judgment  and 
justice  the  habitation  of  his  throne,"  Ps.  lx.\xi.>L. 
15,  was  the  author  of  those  calamities;  "  I  have 
cast  them  far  off  among  the  heathen;  and  dis- 
persed them  among  the  countries."  In  fine,  a 
character  of  mercy:  "  though  I  have  cast  them 
far  off  among  the  heathen,  I  have  been,"  as 
we  may  read,  "  I  will  be  to  them  as  a  little 
sanctuary  in  the  countries  where  they  are 
come."  These  are  the  three  similarities  be- 
tween the  dispersed  Jews,  and  the  reformed,  to 
whom  these  provinces  have  extended  a  com- 
passionate arm. 

I.  The  dispersion  of  the  Jews,  connected 
with  all  the  calamities  which  preceded  and  fol- 
lowed, had  a  character  of  horror:  let  us  judge 
of  it  by  the  lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  who  at- 
tested, as  well  as  predicted  the  awful  scenes. 


1.  He  deplores  the  carnage  which  stained 
Judea  witli  blood:  "The  priests  and  the  pro- 
phets have  been  slain  in  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Lord.  The  young  and  the  old  lie  on  the 
ground  in  tlie  streets;  my  virgins  and  the 
young  men  are  fallen  by  tiie  sword:  thou  hast 
slain;  thou  hast  killed,  and  hast  not  pitied 
them  in  the  day  of  thine  anger.  Thou  hast 
convened  my  terrors,  as  to  a  solemn  day,"  chap, 
ii.  20 — 22. 

'2.  He  deplores  the  horrors  of  the  famine 
which  induced  the  living  to  envy  the  lot  of 
tliose  that  had  fillen  in  war:  "  The  children 
and  the  sucklings  swoon  in  the  streets;  they 
say  to  their  mothers,  when  expiring  in  their 
bosom,  where  is  the  corn  and  the  wine?  They 
that  be  slain  with  the  sword  are  happier  than 
they  that  be  slain  with  hunger.  Have  not  the 
women  eaten  the  children  that  they  suckled? 
Naturally  pitiful,  have  they  not  baked  their 
children  to  supply  them  with  food?"  chap.  ii. 
11,  12.  20;  iv.  9,  10. 

3.  He  deplores  the  insults  of  their  enemies: 
"  All  tliat  pass  by  clap  their  hands  at  thee; 
they  hiss  and  shake  their  heads  at  the  daughter 
of  Jerusalem,  saying.  Is  this  the  city  called  the 
perfection  of  beauty,  the  joy  of  the  whole 
earth?"  chap.  ii.  15. 

4.  He  deplores  the  insensibility  of  God  him- 
self, who  formerly  was  moved  with  their  cala- 
mities, and  ever  accessible  to  their  prayers: 
"  Thou  hast  covered  thyself  with  a  cloud  that 
our  prayers  should  not  pass  through:  and  when 
I  cry  and  shout,  he  rejecteth  my  supplication," 
chap.  iii.  44.  8. 

5.  He  deplores  the  favours  God  had  confer- 
red, the  recollection  of  which  served  but  to 
render  their  grief  the  more  poignant,  and  their 
fall  the  more  insupportable:  "  Jerusalem  in 
the  days  of  her  affliction  remembered  all  her 
pleasant  things  that  she  had  in  the  days  of  old. 
How  doth  the  city  sit  in  solitude  that  was  full 
of  people?  How  is  she  that  was  great  among 
the  nations  become  a  widow,  and  she  that  was 
princess  among  the  provinces  become  tribu- 
tary?" chap.  i.  7.  1. 

6.  Above  all,  he  deplores  the  strokes  level- 
led against  religion:  "  The  ways  of  Zion  do 
mourn  because  none  come  to  the  solemn  feasts: 
jU  her  gates  are  desolate:  her  priests  sigh;  her 
virgins  are  afflicted.  The  heathen  have  enter- 
ed into  her  sanctuary;  the  heathen  concerning 
whom  thou  didst  say,  that  they  should  not 
enter  into  thy  sanctuary,"  chap.  i.  4.  10. 

These  are  the  tints  with  which  Jeremiah 
paints  the  calamities  of  the  Jews,  and  making 
those  awful  objects  an  inexhaustible  source  of 
tears;  he  exclaims  in  the  eloquence  of  grief; 
"  Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?  Be- 
hold, and  see,  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto 
my  sorrow  which  is  done  unto  me,  wherewith 
the  Lord  hath  afflicted  me  in  the  day  of  his 
fierce  anger.  For  this  cause  I  weep,  mine  eye, 
mine  eye  runneth  down  with  tears,  because 
the  Comforter  that  should  relieve  my  soul  is 
far  from  mo.  Zion  spreadeth  her  hands,  and 
there  is  none  to  comfort  her.  Mine  eyes  fail 
with  tears:  whom  shall  I  take  to  witness  for 
thee;  to  whom  shall  I  liken  thee,  O  daughter 
of  Jerusalem;  to  whom  shall  I  equal  thee  to 
console  thee,  O  daughter  of  Zion,  for  thy 
breach  is  great' — O  wall  of  the  daughter  of 


366 


CONSECRATION  OF  THE 


[Ser.  XCIV. 


Zion,  let  tears  run  down  like  a  river  day  and 
night:  g-ivo  thyself  no  rest,  let  not  the  applo 
of  thine  eye  cease.  Arise,  cry  out  in  the  night: 
in  the  beginning  of  the  watches  pour  out  thine 
heart  like  water  before  the  Lord,"  chap.  i.  12. 
16,  17;   ii.  11.  13.  18,  19. 

But  is  all  this  a  mere  portrait  of  past  ages, 
or  did  the  Spirit  of  God  designate  it  as  a 
%ure  of  ages  that  were  to  come!  Are  those 
the  calamities  of  the  .Jews  that  Jeremiaii  has 
endeavoured  to  describe,  or  are  they  those 
which  for  so  many  years  have  ravaged  our 
churches!  Our  eyes,  accustomed  to  contem- 
plate so  many  awful  objects,  have  become  in- 
capable of  impression.  Our  hearts,  habituated 
to  anguish,  are  become  insensible.  Do  not 
expect  me  to  open  the  wounds  that  time  has 
already  closed;  but  in  recalling  the  recollection 
of  those  terrific  scenes  which  have  stained  our 
churches  with  blood,  I  would  inquire  whether 
the  desolations  of  Jerusalem  properly  so  called, 
or  tiiose  of  the  mystic  Jerusalem  be  most  en- 
titled to  our  teara'  May  the  sight  of  the  cala- 
mities into  which  we  have  been  plunged  excite 
in  the  bosom  of  a  compassionate  God,  emo- 
tions of  mercy!  May  he  in  crowning  the  mar- 
tyrs, extend  mercy  to  those  that  occasioned 
their  death. 

I  am  impelled  to  the  objects  which  the 
solemnities  of  this  day  recall  to  your  minds, 
though  I  should  even  endeavour  to  dissipate 
the  ideas;  I  would  say,  to  the  destruction  of 
our  churches,  and  to  tlie  strokes  which  have 
been  levelled  against  our  religion.  The  colours 
Jeremiah  employed  to  trace  the  calamities  of 
Jews,  cannot  be  too  vivid  to  paint  those  which 
have  fallen  on  us.  One  scourge  has  followed 
another  fur  a  long  scries  of  years,  "  One  deep 
has  called  unto  another  deep  at  the  noise  of 
his  water-spouts,"  Ps.  xlii.  7.  A  thousand  and 
a  thousand  strokes  were  aimed  at  our  unhappy 
churches  prior  to  that  which  rased  them  to  the 
ground!  and  if  we  may  so  speak,  one  would 
have  said,  that  those  armed  against  us  were 
not  content  with  being  spectators  of  our  ruin; 
they  were  emulous  to  effectuate  it. 

Sometimes  they  published  edicts  against 
those  who  foreseeing  the  impending  calamities 
of  the  church,  and  unable  to  avert  them,  sought 
the  sad  consolation  of  not  attesting  the  scenes.* 
Sometimes  against  those  who  ha'ving  had  the 
baseness  to  deny  their  religion,  and  unable  to 
bear  the  remorse  of  their  conscience,  had  re- 
covered from  their  fall.f  Sometimes  they  pro- 
hibited pastors  from  exercising  tiieir  discipline 
on  those  of  their  Hock  who  had  abjured  the 
truth. J  Sometimes  they  permitted  cliildren  at 
the  age  of  seven  years  to  embrace  a  doctrine, 
in  the  discussion  of  which  they  affirm,  tiiat 
even  adults  were  inadeijuato  to  the  task.§  At 
one  time  they  suppressed  a  college,  at  another 
they  interdicted  a  churcli.||  Sometimes  they 
envied  us  the  glory  of  converting  infidels  and 
idolaters;  and  retjuired  that  those  unhappy 
people  should  not  renounce  one  kind  of  idola- 
try but  to  embrace  another,  far  less  excusable, 
as  it  dared  to  show  its  front  amid  the  light  of 
the  gospel.     Thoy  envied  us  the  glory  also  of 

*  The  edict  of  August,  1689. 

f  Declaration  agaiust  the  rolapsetl,  May  1679. 

tJuueietiO.        ^  June  1681.        ||  January  1683. 


confirming  those  m  the  truth  who  we  had  in- 
structed from  our  infancy.  •  Sometimes  they 
prohibited  the  pastors  from  exercising  the  mi- 
nisterial functions  for  more  than  three  years  in 
the  same  place.*     Sometimes  thej'  forbade  us 
to  print  our  books;f  and  sometimes  seized  those 
already  published. |     Sometimes  they  obstruct- 
ed our  preaching  in  a  church:  sometimes  from 
doing  it  on  the  foundations  of  one  that  had 
been   demolished;   and   sometimes   from  wor- 
shipping God  in   public.     At  one  time  they 
e.xilcd  us  from  the  kingdom;  and  at  another, 
forbade   our   leaving   it   on   pain   of    death. § 
Here  you  might  have  seen  tropiiies  prepared 
for  those  who  had  basely  denied  their  religioti, 
there  you  might  have  seen  dragged  to  the  pri- 
sons, to  the  scaffold,  or  to  the  galleys,  those 
who  had  confessed  it  with  an  heroic  faith:  yea, 
the  bodies  of  the  dead  dragged  on  hurdles  for 
having  expired  confessing  the  truth.     In  an- 
other place  you  might  have  seen  a  dying  man 
at  compromise  with  a  minister  of  hell,  on  per- 
sisting in  his  apostacy,  and  the  fear  of  leaving 
his  children  destitute  of  bread;  and  if  he  made 
not  the  best  use  of  those  last  moments  that  the 
treasures  of  Providence,  and  the  long-suffering 
of  God,  yet  afforded  him  to  recover  from  his 
fall.     In  other   places,   fathers    and   mothers 
tearing  themselves  away  from   children,  con- 
cerning whom  the  fear  of  being  separated  from 
them  in  eternity  made  them  shed  tears  more 
bitter  than  tliose  that  flowed  on  being  separat- 
ed  in    this   life.     Elsewhere  you  might  have 
seen  whole  families  arriving  in  Protestant  coun- 
tries with  hearts  transported   with  joy,  once 
more  to  see  churches,  and  to  find  in  Christian 
communion,  adequate  sources  to  assuage  the 
anguish  of  the  sacrifices  they  had  made  for  its 
enjoyment.     Let   us   draw   the   curtain   over 
those   affecting  scenes.     Our  calamities,  like 
those  of  the  Jews,  have  had  a  character  of 
horror;  this  is  a  fact;  this  is  but  too  easy  to 
])rove.     They  have  had  also  a  character  of 
justice,  which  we  proceed  to  prove  in  our  se- 
cond head. 

II.  That  public  miseries  originate  in  the 
crimes  of  a  chastened  people,  is  a  ])roposition 
that  scarcely  any  one  will  presume  to  deny 
when  proposed  in  a  vague  and  general  way; 
but  perhaps  it  is  one  of  tliose  whose  evidence 
is  less  perceived  when  applied  to  certain  pri- 
vate cases,  and  when  wc  would  draw  the  con- 
sequences resulting  from  it  in_  a  neces.sary  and 
immediate  manner:  propose  it  in  a  pulpit,  and 
each  will  acquiesce.  But  propose  it  in  the  cabi- 
net; say,  that  the  equipment  of  fleets,  the  levy 
of  armies,  and  contraction  of  alliances,  are 
feeble  barriers  of  the  state,  unless  we  endea- 
vour to  eradicate  the  crimes  which  have  en- 
kindled the  wrath  of  Heaven,  and  you  would 
bo  put  in  the  abject  class  of  those  good  and 
weak  fort  of  folles  that  are  in  the  world.  I  do 
not  come  to  renew  the  controversy,  and  to  in- 
vestigate what  is  the  influence  of  crimes  on 
the  destiny  of  nations,  and  the  rank  it  holds 
in  the  plans  of  Providence.  Neither  do  1  ap- 
pear at  the  bar  of  pliilosophj'  the  most  scrupu- 
lous and  severe,  and  at  the  bench  of  policy  the 
most  refined  and  profound,  to  prove  that  it  is 


*  August  1684. 
t  Sept.  6tli,  1685. 


t  July  9lh,  1685. 
^  July  30di,  1680. 


J 


Ser.  XCIV.J 


CHURCH  AT  VOORBURGH. 


367 


not  possible  for  a  state  long  to  subsist  in  splen- 
dour which  presumes  to  derive  its  prosperity 
from  the  practice  of  crimes.     For, 

Wlio  is  ho  tiiat  will  dare  to  exclaim  against 
a  proposition  so  reasonable,  and  so  closely  con- 
nected with  the  grand  doctrines  of  religion; 
and   whicli    cannot   bo   renounced  without   a 
stroke  at  the  being  of  a  God,  and  the  superin- 
tendence of  a   Providence?   a  man  admitting 
those  two  grand  i)riiiciples,  and  presuming  to 
make  crimes  subservient  to  the  support  of  so- 
ciety, should  digest  the  following  propositions. 
There  is  indeed  a  God  in  heaven,  who  has 
constituted  society  to  practise  equity;  to  main- 
tain order;  and  to  cherisii  religion;  he  has  con- 
nected its  ])rosi)erily  with  these  duties;  but  by 
tlie  secrets  of  my  policy,  by  the  depths  of  my 
counsels,  by  the  refinement  of  my  wisdom,  I 
know  how  to  elude  his  designs,  and  avert  his 
denunciations.     God  is  indeed  an  Almighty 
Being  whoso  pleasure  has  a  necessary  connex- 
ion with  its  execution;  he  has  but  to  blow  with 
his  wind  on  a  nation,  and  behold  it  vanishes 
away;  but  I  will  oppose  power  to  power;  1  will 
force  his  strength;*  and  by  my  fleets,  my  armies, 
my  fortress,  1  will  elude  all  those  ministers  of 
vengeance.     God  has  indeed  declared,  that  he 
is  jealous  of  his  glory;  that  soon  or  late  he  will 
exterminate  incorrigible  nations;  and  that  if 
from  the  nature  of  their  vices  there  proceed 
not  a    sufficiency  of  calamities  to    extirpate 
them  from  tiie  earth,  he  will  superadd  those 
unrelenting  strokes  of  vengeance  which  shall 
justify  his    Providence;    but   the    state,   over 
which  I  preside,  shall  be  too  small,  or  perhaps 
too  great  to  bo  absorbed  in  the  vortex  of  his 
commanding  sway.     It  shall   be  reserved  of 
Providence  as  an  exception  to  this  general  rule, 
and  made  to  subsist  in  favour  of  those  very 
vices,  whicli   have  occasioned  the  sackage  of 
other  nations.     My  brethren,  there  is,  if  I  may 
presume  so  to  sjieak,  but  a  front  of  iron  and 
brass  that  can  digest  propositions  so  daring, 
and   prefer  the  system  of  Ilobbs  and  of  Ma- 
chiavel to  that  of  David  and  of  Solomon. 

But  what  awful  objects  should  we  present  to 
your  view,  were  we  v/ishful  to  enter  on  a  de- 
tail of  the  proofs  concerning  the  equity  of  the 
strokes  with  which  God  alllicted  the  Jews; 
and  especially  were  we  wishful  to  illustrate  the 
conforn)ity  found  in  this  second  head,  between 
the  desolations  of  those  ancient  people,  and 
those  of  our  own  churches? 

To  justify  what  we  have  advanced  on  the 
first  head,  it  would  be  requisite  to  investigate 
many  of  their  kings,  who  were  monsters  rather 
than  men;  it  would  be  requisite  to  describe  the 
hardness  of  the  people  who  were  wishful  that 
the  ministers  of  the  living  God,  sent  to  rebuke 
their  crimes,  might  contribute  to  confirm  them 
therein;  and  who,  according  to  the  expression 
of  Isaiah,  "said  to  the  seer,  see  not;  and  to 
those  who  had  visions,  see  no  more  visions  of 
uprightness;  speak  unto  us  smooth  things, 
prophecy  deceit.  Get  you  out  of  the  way, 
turn  aside  out  of  the  path,  cause  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel  to  cease  from  before  us,"  xxx.  10,  11. 
It  would  be  requisite  to  exhibit  the  connivance 
of  many  of  their  pastors,  who,  as   Jeremiah 


*  The  Tersions   vary  very   much  ia   reading;   Isaiali 
xivii.  5.     Vide  PoU  Synojisis  Grit,  in  he. 


says,  "  healed  the  hurt  of  his  people  slightly, 
saying,  peace,  peace,  when  there  was  no  peace;" 
vi.  14;  and  who  were  so  far  from  suppressing 
the  licentiousness  of  the  wicked,  as  to  make  it 
their  glory  to  surpass  them!  It  would  be  re- 
quisite to  describe  the  awful  security  which  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  tremendous  visitations 
infatuated  them  to  say,  "  We  have  made  a  co- 
venant with  death,  and  with  hell  we  are  at 
agreement,"  Isa.  xxviii.  15.  It  would  bo  re- 
quisite to  trace  those  sanguinary  deeds,  which 
occasioned  that  just  rebuke,  "  In  the  skirts  of 
thy  robe  is  found  the  blood  of  the  innocent 
poor,"  Jer.  ii.  34.  It  would  be  requisite  to  ex- 
hibit those  scenes  of  idolatry,  which  made  a 
prophet  say,  "  Lift  up  thine  eyes  on  the  high 
places,  and  see  where  thou  hast  been  lien  with. 
O  Juda,  thy  gods  are  as  many  as  thy  cities," 
ii.  28;  iii.  2.  It  would  be  requisite  to  speak  of 
that  paucity  of  righteous  men,  which  occasion- 
ed God  himself  to  say,  "  Run  ye  to  and  fro 
tlîrough  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  see  now 
and  know,  and  seek  ye  in  the  broad  places 
thereof,  if  ye  can  find  a  man,  if  there  be  any 
that  executeth  judgment,  that  seeketh  truth, 
and  I  will  pardon  it,"  v.  i. 

But  instead  of  retracing  those  awful  recol- 
lections, and  deducing  from  them  the  just 
application  of  which  they  are  susceptible, 
it  would  be  hotter  to  comprise  them  in  that 
general  confession,  and  to  acknowledge  when 
speaking  of  your  calamities  what  the  Jews 
confessed  when  speaking  of  theire:  "  The  Lord 
is  righteous,  for  I  have  rebelled  against  him. 
Certainly  thou  art  righteous  in  all  the  things 
that  have  happened,  for  thou  hast  acted  in 
truth,  but  we  have  done  wickedly.  Neither 
have  our  kings,  our  princes,  our  priests,  nor 
our  fathers,  kept  thy  law,  nor  hearkened  unto 
thy  commandments,  and  to  thy  testimonies 
wherewith  thou  didst  testify  against  them," 
Lam.  i.  18;  Neh.  ix.  34. 

III.  But  it  is  time  to  present  you  with  ob- 
jects more  attractive  and  assortable  with  the 
solemnities  of  this  day.    The  calamities  which 
fell  upon  the  Jews,  and  those  which  have  fallen 
on  us;  those  calamities  which  had  a  character 
of  justice;   yea,  even  a  character  of  horror, 
had  also  a  character  of  mercy;  and  this  is  what 
is  promised  the  Jews  in  the  words  of  my  text: 
"  Altiiough  I  have  cast  them  far  off  among  the 
heathen,  and  among  the  countries;  yet  I  will 
be  to  them  as  a  little  sanctuary  in  the  countries 
where  they  are  come."    Whether  you  give 
these  words,  "  as  a  little  sanctuary,"  a  vague, 
or  a  limited  signification,  all  resolves  to  the 
same  sense.     If  you  give  them  a  limited  im- 
port, they  refer  to  the  temple  of  Jerusalem, 
which  the  Chaldeans  had  destroyed,  and  which 
was  tlie  emblem  of  God's  presence  in  the 
midst  of  his  people.     "  I  have  dispersed  them 
among  the  heathen;"  I  have  deprived  them  of 
their  temple,  but  I  will  grant  them  supematu- 
rally  the  favours  I  accorded  to  their  prayers 
once  offered  up  in  the  house,  of  which  they 
have  been  deprived.     In  this  sense  St.  Jolm 
said,  that  he  "  saw  no  temple  in  the  new  Je- 
rusalem, because  God  and  Uie  Lamb  were  the 
temple  thereof,"  Rev.  xxi.  22.     If  you  give 
these  words  an  extended  import,  they  allude 
to  the  dispersion.  "  Altiiough  I  have  cast  tliem 
off  among  the  heathen,  and  put  tliem  far 


m 


868 


CONSECRATION  OF  THE 


[Ser.  XCIV. 


away"  from  tho  place  of  their  habitation;  yet 
I  will  be  myself  their  refuge.  Much  the  same 
is  said  by  the  author  of  the  xcth  psalm;  Lord, 
"  thou  hast  been  our  retreat,  or  refuge,  from 
one  generation  to  another."  But  without  a 
minute  scrutiny  of  the  words,  let  us  justify  the 
thing. 

1.  Even  amid  the  carnage  wliich  ensued  on 
the  taking  of  Jerusalem,  many  of  the  princi- 
pal people  were  spared.  It  appears  from  the 
sacred  history,  tliat  Jeremiah  was  allowed  to 
choose  what  retreat  he  pleased,  eitiicr  to  re- 
main in  Babylon,*  or  to  return  to  his  country. 
He  cliose  the  latter;  he  loved  the  foundations 
of  Jerusalem,  and  of  liis  temple,  more  than 
the  superb  city;  and  it  was  at  the  siglit  of 
those  mournful  ruins,  that  he  composed  those 
Lamentations,  from  wliich  we  have  made 
many  extracts,  and  in  which  he  has  painted  in 
the  deepest  tints,  and  described  in  the  most 
pathetic  manner,  the  miseries  of  his  nation. 

2.  While  some  of  the  Jewisii  captives  had 
liberty  to  return  to  their  country,  others  were 
promoted  in  Babylon  to  the  most  eminent  of- 
fices in  tlie  empire.  The  author  of  tlie  second 
Book  of  Kings  says,  that  Evil-merodach  "  lifted 
up  the  head  of  Jehoiacliin  out  of  prison — and 
set  his  throne  above  the  throne  of  the  kings 
that  were  with  him  in  Babylon."  Jeremiah 
repeats  tlie  same  expression  of  this  author, 
a  Kings  XXV.  28;  Jer.  lii.  32;  and  learned  men 
have  thence  concluded,  "  that  Jehoiachin 
reigned  in  Babylon  over  his  own  dispersed 
subjects."  Of  Daniel  we  may  say  the  same; 
he  was  made  governor  of  the  province  of  Baby- 
lon by  Nebuchadnezzar,  "and  chief  of  tiie 
governors  over  all  the  wise  men,"  Dan.  ii.  48. 
Darius  conferred  many  years  afterward  tlie 
same  dignities  on  this  prophet;  and  Neliemiah 
was  cupbearer  to  Artaxerxes. 

3.  How  dark,  how  impenetrable  soever  the 
history  of  the  seventy  years  may  be,  during 
which  time  the  Jews  were  captive  in  Babylon, 
it  is  extremely  obvious,  that  they  had  during 
that  period  some  form  of  government.  We 
have  explained  ourselves  elsewhere  concern- 
ing what  is  meant  by  the  .JLchinalotarks;  tliat 
is,  the  chiefs  or  princes  of  the  captivity.  We 
ought  also  to  pay  some  attention  to  tlie  book 
of  Susanna:  I  know  that  this  work  bears  va- 
rious marks  of  reprobation,  and  that  St.  Je- 
rome, in  particular,  regarded  it  witii  so  mucii 
contempt  as  to  assure  us,  in  some  sort,  that  it 
would  never  have  been  put  in  the  sacred  ca- 
non had  it  not  been  to  gratify  a  brutish  people. 
Meanwhile,  we  ought  not  to  slight  wliat  tliis 
book  records  concerning  the  general  history  of 
tho  Jews;  now  we  tlieie  see,  that  during  the 
captivity,  tliey  had  ciders,  judges,  and  sena- 
tors; and  if  we  may  credit  Origen,  too  nuicli 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  the  book  of  Susanna, 
it  was  solely  to  hide  tiie  siianie  of  tlie  princes 
of  their  nation  that  the  Jews  had  suppressed  it. 

4.  God  always  preserved  among  them  the 
ministry,  and  tho  ministers.  It  is  indubitable 
that  there  were  always  projihets  during  the 
captivity;  though  some  of  the  learned  have 
maintained,  that  the  sacred  books  were  lost 
during    the    captivity;   though   one    text  of 

*  It  appears,  below,  tliat  Saurin  thouglif  Jeremiah  and 
others  returued  from  Uabylon! 


Scripture  seems  to  favour  this  notion;  and 
though  Tertullian  and  Eusebius  presume  to 
say  tiiat  Esdras  had  retained  the  sacred  books 
in  memory,  and  wrote  them  in  the  order  in 
which  they  now  stand;  notwithstanding  all 
this,  we  tiiink  ourselves  able  to  prove  that  the 
sacred  trust  never  was  out  of  their  hands.  It 
appears  tliat  Daniel  read  the  propliets.  The 
end  of  the  second  book  of  Chronicles,  which 
has  induced  some  to  conclude  tiiat  Cyrus  was 
a  proselyte,  loaves  not  a  doubt  that  this  prince 
must  have  read  the  xlivth  and  xlvth  chapters 
of  Isaiah,  where  he  is  expressly  named,  and  to 
this  knowledge  alone  we  can  attribute  the 
extraordinary  expressiojis  of  his  first  edict. 
"  The  Lord  God  of  heaven  hath  given  me  all 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth;  and  he  has  charged 
me  to  build  him  a  temple  in  Jerusalem," 
2  Chron.  x.^xvi.  23. 

5.  God  wrought  prodigies  for  the  Jews, 
which  made  them  venerable  in  the  eyes  of 
their  greatest  enemies.  Though  exiles;  though 
captives;  thougli  slaves  of  the  Chaldeans,  they 
were  distinguished  as  the  favourites  of  tho 
Sovereign  of  the  universe.  They  made  the 
God  of  Abraham  to  triumph  even  in  the  midst 
of  idols;  and  aided  by  the  pro])hetic  Spirit, 
they  pronounced  the  destiny  of  those  very 
kingdoms  in  the  midst  of  which  they  were  dis- 
persed. Like  the  captive  Ark,  they  hallowed 
tiie  humiliations  of  their  captivity  by  symbols 
of  terror.  Witness  the  flames  which  con- 
sumed tlieir  executioners.  Witness  the  dreams 
of  Nebucliadnezzar,  and  of  Belshazzar  inter- 
preted by  Daniel,  and  realized  by  Providence: 
witness  tlie  praises  rendered  to  God  by  idola- 
trous kings:  witness  the  preservation  of  Daniel 
from  the  fury  of  the  lions;  and  his  enemies 
thrown  to  assuage  the  appetites  of  those  fero- 
cious beasts. 

6.  In  a  word,  the  mercy  of  God  appeared 
so  distinguislied  in  the  deliverance  accorded  to 
tliese  same  Jews,  as  to  convince  the  most  in- 
credulous, that  the  same  God  who  had  deter- 
mined their  captivity,  was  he  also  who  had 
prescribed  its  bounds.  He  moved  in  their 
[lehalf  the  hearts  of  pagan  princes!  We  see 
Darius,  and  Cyrus,  and  Artaxerxes,  become, 
by  the  sovereignty  of  Heaven  over  the  heart 
of  kings,  the  restorers  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
builders  of  its  temple!  Xenophon  reports, 
tliat  wlien  Cyrus  took  Babylon,  he  command- 
ed his  soldiers  to  spare  all  who  spake  tlie  Sy- 
rian tongue;  tiiat  is  to  say,  the  Hebrew  nation; 
and  no  one  can  be  ignorant  of  the  edicts  is- 
sued in  favour  of  this  people. 

Now,  my  brethren,  nothing  but  an  excess  of 
blindness  and  ingratitude  can  prevent  the  see- 
ing and  feeling  in  our  own  dispersion  those 
marks  of  mercy,  which  shone  so  liriglit  in  the 
dispersion  of  tlie  Jews.  How  else  could  we 
have  eluded  the  troops  stationed  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  our  country,  to  retain  us  in  it  by  force, 
and  to  make  us  either  martyrs  or  apostates.' 

Wliat  else  could  excite  the  zeal  of  some  Pro- 
testant countries,  whose  inhabitants  you  saw 
going  to  meet  your  fugitives,  guiding  them  in 
tiie  private  roads,  and  disputing  with  one  ano- 
ther who  should  entertain  them;  and  saying, 
"  C'ome,  come  into  our  houses,  yc  blessed  of 
the  Lord?"  Gen.  xxiv.  31. 

Whence  proceeds  so  much  success  in  our 


Ser.  XCIV.] 


CHURCH  AT  VOORBURGH. 


369 


trade;  so  much  promotion  in  the  armj;  so 
mucii  progress  in  the  sciences;  and  so  much 
prosperity  in  the  several  professions  of  many  of 
us,  who,  according  to  the  world,  are  more  hap- 
py in  tiie  land  of  their  exile,  than  they  were  in 
their  own  country? 

Why  has  God  been  jilcascd  to  signalize  his 
favours  to  certain  individuals  ofthe  nations,  and 
have  extended  to  us  a  protecting  arm?  Why, 
when  indigence  and  exiles  seemed  to  enter  their 
houses  togetlier,  have  we  seen  affluence,  bene- 
diction, and  riches  emanate,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
from  the  bosom  of  charity  and  benehcence? 

By  what  miracle  have  so  great  a  nund)er  of 
our  confessors  and  martyrs  been  liberated  frum 
their  tortures  and  their  chains? 

P^rom  what  principle  proceeds  the  extraordi- 
nary difference,  God  has  put  between  those 
of  our  countrymen,  wlio,  williout  consulting 
"  flesli  and  blood,  have  followed  Jesus  Christ 
without  the  camp,  bearing  his  reproach,"  and 
those  who  have  wished  to  join  the  interests  of 
mammon  with  those  of  lieaven?  Gal.  i.  16; 
Heb.  xiii.  13. 

We  are  masters  of  whatever  property  with 
which  it  pleased  Providence  to  invest  us  on  our 
departure;  but  our  brethren  cannot  dispose  of 
theirs  but  with  vexatious  restrictions  and  im- 
posts. 

We  have  over  our  children  the  rights  which 
nature,  society,  and  religion  have  given  us;  we 
can  promise  both  to  ourselves  and  to  them  the 
protection  ofthe  laws,  while  we  shall  continue 
to  respect  the  laws,  which  we  teach  them  to 
do.  But  our  countrymen,  on  leaving  their 
houses  for  a  few  hours,  know  not  on  their  re- 
turn, whether  they  shall  find  tiiose  dear  parts 
of  themselves,  or  whether  they  shall  be  dragged 
away  to  confinement  in  a  convent,  or  thrown 
into  a  jail. 

Whenever  the  sabbaths  and  festivals  of  the 
church  arrive,  we  go  with  our  families  to  render 
homage  to  the  Supreme;  we  rise  up  in  a  throng 
with  a  song  of  triumph  in  the  house  of  our 
God;  we  make  it  resound  with  hymns;  we  hear 
the  Scriptures;  we  offer  up  our  prayers;  we  par- 
ticipate of  his  sacraments;  we  anticipate  the 
eternal  felicities.  But  our  countrymen  have 
no  part  in  the  joy  of  our  feasts;  they  are  to 
them  days  of  mourning;  it  is  with  difficulty  in 
an  obscure  part  of  their  house,  and  in  the 
mortal  fear  of  detection,  that  they  celebrate 
some  hasty  act  of  piety  and  religion. 

We,  when  conceiving  ourselves  to  be  extend- 
ed on  the  bed  of  deatli,  can  call  our  ministers, 
and  open  to  them  our  hearts,  listen  to  their 
gracious  words,  and  drink  in  the  sources  of 
their  comfort.  But  our  countrymen  are  pur- 
sued to  the  last  moments  of  their  life  by  their 
enemies,  and  having  lived  temporizing,  they 
die  temporizing. 

We  find  then  as  the  captive  Jews,  the  ac- 
complishment ofthe  prophecy  of  my  text;  and 
we  enjoy,  during  the  years  of  our  dispersion, 
favours  similar  to  those  which  soothed  the  Jews 
during  their  captivity. 

But  can  we  promise  ourselves  that  ours  shall 
come  to  a  similar  close?  The  mercy  of  God  on  I 
our  belialf  has  already  accomplished  the  pro-  i 
mise  in  the  text,  "  I  will  be  to  them  as  a  little 
sanctuary  in  the  countries  where  they  are  ' 
come."  But  when  shall  wc  sec  the  accom-  ! 
Vol.  II.— 47 


plishmentof  that  which  follows.  "  I  will  gather 
you  from  among  the  people,  and  assemble  you 
irotn  the  countries  where  ye  have  been  scatter- 
ed." When  is  it  that  so  many  Christians,  who 
degenerate  as  they  are,  still  love  religion;  when 
is  it  that  they  shall  repair  tlic  insults  they  have 
ofiured  to  it'  When  is  it,  that  so  many  chil- 
dren who  have  been  torn  from  their  fathers, 
shall  be  restored;  or  rather,  when  sliall  we  see 
them  restored  to  tlie  church,  from  whose  bosom 
they  have  been  plucked?  AVhen  is  it  that  we 
sJiall  see  in  our  country  what  we  see  at  tliis 
day.  Christians  enmlous  to  build  churciies,  to 
consecrate  them,  tlierc  to  render  God  the  early 
homage  due  to  his  Majesty,  and  to  participate 
in  tlie  first  favours  ho  there  accords?  "  Oh! 
ye  tliat  make  mention  of  the  Lord,  keep  not 
silence;  give  him  no  rest  till  he  establish,  and 
till  he  make  Jerusalem  a  praise  in  the  earth," 
Isa.  Ixii.  5,  6.  "  Give  ear,  O  Shepherd  of 
Israel,  thou  that  leadest  Joseph  like  a  flock, 
thou  that  dwellest  between  the  cherubim  shine 
forth.  Before  Ephraim  and  Benjamin,  and 
Manasseh,  stir  up  thy  strength,  and  come  and 
save  us,"  Ps.  Ixxx.  1,  2.  "O  Lord  God  of 
hosts,  how  long  wilt  thou  be  angry  agaiiLst 
the  prayer  of  thy  people?"  ver.  4.  "  Thou 
shalt  arise,  and  have  mercy  on  Zion:  for  the 
time  to  favour  her,  yea,  the  set  time  is  come. 
For  thy  serva.its  take  pleasure  in  stones,  and 
favour  the  dust  thereof.  Then  the  heathen 
sliall  fear  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  all  the 
kings  ofthe  earth  thy  glory.  When  the  Lord 
shall  build  up  Zion;  vvlien  he  shall  regard  the 
prayer  of  the  destitute,  this  shall  be  written 
for  the  generation  to  come;  and  the  people 
which  shall  be  created  shall  praise  the  Lord; 
for  he  hath  looked  down  from  the  height  of 
his  sanctuary,"  Ps.  cii.  13,  &c.  May  this  be 
the  first  subject  of  the  prayers  we  shall  this 
day  oSïer  to  God  in  this  holy  place. 

But  asking  of  him  favours  so  precious,  let 
us  ask  with  sentiments  which  ensure  success. 
INIay  the  purity  of  tlie  worship  we  render  to 
God  in  the  churciies  he  has  preserved,  and  in 
those  he  has  also  allowed  to  build,  obtain  re- 
edification  of  those  that  have  been  demolished. 
May  our  charity  to  brethren,  tlie  companions 
of  our  exile,  obtain  a  re-union  wit!»  tlie  brethren, 
from  whom  we  have  been  separated  by  the  ca- 
lamities ofthe  times.  And  while  God  shall  still 
retard  this  happy  period,  may  our  respect  for 
our  rulers,  may  our  zeal  for  the  public  good, 
may  our  punctuality  in  paying  the  taxes,  may 
our  gratitude  for  the  many  favours  we  have 
received  in  these  provinces,  which  equalize  us 
with  its  natural  subjects;  and  compressing  in 
my  exhortations  and  prayers,  not  only  my 
countrymen,  but  all  who  compose  this  assembly, 
may  the  manner  in  wliich  we  shall  serve  God 
amid  the  infirmities  and  miseries  inseparable 
from  this  valley  of  tears,  ensure  to  us,  my  bre- 
thren, that  after  having  joined  our  voices  to 
those  choirs  wliich  compose  the  militant  church, 
we  shall  be  joined  to  those  that  form  the  church 
triumphant,  and  sing  eternally  with  the  angels, 
and  with  tlie  multitude  of  the  redeemed  of  all 
nations,  and  languages,  the  praises  of  the 
Creator.  God  grant  us  the  grace.  To  whom 
be  honour  and  glory  henceforth  and  for  ever. 
Amen. 


370 


ON  FESTIVALS,  AND  PARTICULARLY 


[See.  XCV. 


SERMON  XCV. 


ON  FESTIVALS,  AND  PARTICULARLY 
ON  THE  SABBATH-DAY. 


Isaiah  Iviii.  13,  11. 

If  thou  turn  uwaij  thy  fool  from  the  Sahbath, 
from  doing  thy  pleasure  on  my  holy  diiy,  and 
call  the  Sabbath  a  df  light;  the  holy  of  the  Lord, 
hmiourablt;  and  shall  honour  him,  not  doing 
thy  own  n-uys,  nor  finding  thy  own  pleasure, 
nor  spiaking  thine  own  words;  then  thou  shall 
delight  thyself  in  the  Lord,  and  I  will  cause 
thee  to  ride  upon  the  high  places  of  the  earth, 
and  feed  thee  icith  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy  fa- 
ther; for  the  month  of  Ihe  Lord  hath  spoken  it. 
"  When  will  the  new  moon  bo  ifone,  that  we 
may  sell  corn?  and  the  sabbath,  that  wo  may 
set  forth  wheat?"    This  was  tlio  language;  that 
the  propliet  Aiiios  put  into  the  mouth  of  the 
profane  men  in  iiis  own  time.     It  is  less  ex- 
pressive of  tlieir  presumptive  speeches,  tlian  of 
the  latent  wickedness  which  festered  in  their 
hearts.     Religion  and  politics  were  closely  con- 
nected in  tlie  Hebrew  nation.     The  laws  in- 
flicted the  severest  penalties  on  those  that  vio- 
lated the  exterior  of  religion.     The  execrable 
men,  of  whom  the  propliet  speaks,  could  not 
absent  themselves  from  the  solenm  festivals 
with  impunity;  but  they  worshipped  witli  con- 
straint; they  regretted  the  loss  of  their  time; 
they    reproached    God    with    every    moment 
wasted  hi  his  house;  they  ardently  wished  the 
feasts  to  be  gone,  that  they  might  return,  not 
only  to   their   avocations,    but   also   to   their 
crimes;  they  said  in  their  hearts,  "  When  will 
the  new  moon  be  gone,  that  we  may  sell  corn? 
and  the  sabbath,  that  we  may  set  forth  wheat'" 
Amos  viii.  5. 

Against  this  disposition  of  mind,  God  has 
denounced  by  the  ministry  of  this  same  pro- 
phet, those  very  awful  judgments,  which  he 
has  painted  in  the  deepest  shades.  The  Lord 
hath  sworn: — "  I  will  turn  your  feasts  into 
mourning,  and  all  your  songs  into  lamentation. 
Behold  the  day  cometh,  saith  the  Lord  God, 
that  I  will  send  a  famine  in  the  land;  not  a 
famine  of  bread,  not  a  thirst  of  water,  but  of 
hearing  the  words  of  the  Lord.  And  they 
shall  wander  from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the 
north  even  to  the  east;  they  shall  run  to  and 
fro  to  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and  shall  not 
find  it." 

My  brethren,  are  you  not  persuaded,  that 
tlie  impious  men,  of  whom  the  prophet  si)eaks, 
have  had  imitators  in  succeeding  times?  whence 
is  it  then  that  some  among  us  have  been  struck 
precisely  with  the  same  strokes,  if  they  have 
not  been  partakers  of  the  same  crimes?  whence 
comes  this  famine  of  God's  word,  my  dear 
countrymen,  with  which  we  have  been  alllicted? 
Whence  comes  the  necessity  imposed  upon  us 
to  wander  from  s(,'a  to  sea,  to  recover  tiiis  di- 
vine pasture,  if  we  have  not  slighted  it  in  ])lace« 
where  it  existed  in  so  much  abundance  and 
unction?  Wiience  comes  those  awful  catas- 
trophes that  liave  changed  our  solemn  feasts 
into  mourning,  if  wo  celebrated  them,  when  it 
was  in  our  power,  with  joy?     Whence  comes 


those  lamentations  licard  in  one  part  of  the 
church  for  forty  years,  and  which  awful  melody 
has  latterly  been  renewed,  if  we  sung  our  sa- 
cred hymns  with  a  devotion  that  the  praises  of 
the  Creator  retjuire  of  the  creature?  "  O  Lord, 
righteousness  bulongeth  unto  thee,  but  unto  us 
confusion  of  faces.  The  Lord  is  rigiiteous, 
though  we  have  rebelled  against  him,"  Dan. 
ix.  7.  9.  Happy  those  who  groan  under  the 
strokes  for  the  sins  they  have  committed,  pro- 
vided the  school  of  adversity  make  them  wise. 
Happy  those  of  you,  my  brethren,  who  are 
simply  the  si)ectators  of  those  calamities,  pro- 
vided you  abstain  from  the  sins  which  have 
occasioned  them,  and  become  wise  at  the  ex- 
pense of  others. 

This  is  the  design  of  my  discourse,  in  which 
I  am  to  address  you  on  the  respect  due  to  the 
solemn  feasts,  and  to  the  sabbath-day  in  par- 
ticular, leaving  conscience  to  decide  whether 
it  be  caprice,  or  necessity,  which  prompts  us 
to  choice;  wiiether  it  be  inconsideration,  or 
mere  accident;  or  whether  it  has  been  compul- 
sion, tlirough  the  dreadful  enormities  into 
which  we  are  plunged,  in  regard  of  the  profa- 
nation of  religious  lestivals,  and  of  the  sabbath- 
day  in  particular,  that  people  have  for  so  long 
a  time  justly  branded  us  with  rei)roach:  i)ro- 
faneness  alone,  unless  we  make  ellorts  to  reform 
it,  is  sufficient  to  bring  down  the  wrath  of 
God  on  these  provinces.  May  Heaven  deign 
to  avert  those  awful  presages!  May  the  Al- 
mighty engrave  on  our  hearts  the  divine  pre- 
cept inculcated  to-day,  tiiat  we  may  happily 
iniierit  the  favours  he  has  promised!  May  he 
enable  us  sci  "  to  make  the  subiiaths  our  de- 
light," that  we  may  be  made  partakers  of  "  the 
heritage  of  Jacob;"  i  would  say,  that  of  "the 
Hnisher  of  our  faith.     Amen." 

"  If  thou  turn  away  iliy  foot  from  the  sab- 
bath, from  doing  thy  i)leasure  on  my  holy  day, 
and  call  the  sal)bath  a  delight,  the  holy  of  the 
Lord,  honourable,  and  shalt  honour  him,  not 
doing  thy  ways,  nor  finding  thine  own  ])lea- 
sure,  nor  speaking  thine  words;  then  thou  shah 
delight  thyself  in  the  Lord,  and  1  will  cause 
thee  to  ride  on  the  high  ])lace3  of  the  eartli, 
and  feed  thee  with  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy 
father,  for  the  mouth  of  tlio  Lord  hath  spoken 
it."  This  is  our  text,  and  here  is  our  design. 
We  shall  consider  the  words, 

I.  With  regard  to  the  Jewish  church; 

II.  With  regard  to  the  Christian  church;  or 
to  be  more  explicit,  God  has  made  two  very 
diflcrent  worlds,  the  world  of  nature,  and  the 
world  of  grace.  Both  tliese  are  the  heritage  of 
the  faithful,  but  in  a  very  dilVereiit  way.  The 
Jews  conten)plating  the  world  of  grace  as  a  dis- 
tant object,  had  their  imagination  principally 
in)pressed  with  the  kingdom  of  nature.  Hence, 
in  their  form  of  thanksgiving,  they  said,  "Bles-'s- 
ed  be  (Jod  wiio  hath  created  the  wheat;  blessed 
be  God  who  hath  created  the  fruit  of  the  vine." 
Christians,  on  the  contrary,  accounting  liiem- 
selves  but  strangers  in  this  world,  ]ilace  all  their 
glory  in  seeing  the  marvels  of  the  world  of  grace. 
Hence  it  is  the  common  tlieuie  ol' their  thanks- 
givings to  say,  "  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  according  to  liis 
abundant  mercy,  hath  begotten  us  again  unto 
a  lively  hope,  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ 
from  the  dead,"  1  Pet.  i.  3,  4.     Thus  it  was  in 


Skr.  XCV.l 


ON  THE  SABBATH-DAY. 


371 


a  pwint  of  order  tlial  the  dillcrencc  of  dispensa- 
tions was  apparent  in  the  two  ciiurclies.  The 
Jew  in  his  saijbatli,  celebrated  tlie  marvels  of 
nature;  but  the  Cliristian,  exalted  to  sublimer 
views,  celebrated  the  marvels  of  grace:  and  this 
memorable  day  of  the  Saviour's  resurrection, 
the  day  in  wiiich  he  saw  the  work  of  redemj)- 
tion  finished,  and  the  hopes  of  tlie  church 
crowned;  two  objects  to  which  we  shall  call 
your  attention. 

1.  We  sliall  consider  the  words  of  the  text 
with  regard  to  tlie  Jews.  Willi  that  view  wc 
shall  state,  1.  The  reasons  of  the  institution  of 
the  yabbalh;  2.  The  manner  in  which  the  pro- 
phet re<juired  it  to  be  celebrated;  3.  The  pro- 
mises made  to  those  who  worthily  hallow  the 
sabbath-day. 

Four  considerations  gave  occasion  for  the  in- 
stitution ot'  the  sabbath-day.  God  was  wishful 
to  perpetuate  two  original  truths  on  which  the 
whole  evidence  of  religion  dijvolves;  the  first  is, 
that  the  world  had  a  beginning;  the  second  is, 
that  Ciod  is  its  author.  You  feel  the  force  of 
both  these  points,  without  the  aid  of  illustra- 
tion, because,  if  the  world  be  eternal,  there  is 
some  being  coeval  with  the  godhead;  and  if 
there  be  any  being  coeval  with  the  godhead, 
there  is  a  being  which  is  independent  of  it,  and 
which  is  not  indebted  to  God  for  its  existence: 
and  if  there  be  any  being  which  is  not  depend- 
ant on  God,  1  no  longer  see  in  him  all  the  per- 
fection which  constitutes  his  essence:  our  devo- 
tion is  irregular;  it  ought  to  be  divided  between 
all  the  beings  which  participate  of  his  perfec- 
tions. 

2.  But  if  the  world  liavc  not  God  for  its  au- 
thor, it  is  requisite  to  establish  the  one  or  the 
other  of  these  suppositions,  cither  that  the  world 
itself  has  a  superintending  intelligence,  or  that 
it  was  formed  by  chance.  If  you  suppose  the 
world  to  have  been  governed  by  an  intelligence 
peculiar  to  itself,  you  fall  into  the  difficulty  you 
wish  to  avoid.  You  associate  with  God  a  be- 
ing, that,  participating  of  his  perfections,  must 
participate  also  of  his  worship.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  you  suppose  it  was  made  by  chance, 
you  not  only  renounce  all  the  light  of  reason, 
but  you  sap  the  whole  foundation  of  faith:  for, 
if  chance  have  derived  us  from  nothing,  it  may 
reduce  us  to  nothing  again;  and  if  our  existence 
depend  on  the  caprice  of  fortune,  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul  is  destitute  of  proof,  infidelity 
obtains  a  triumph,  religion  becomes  a  pun,  and 
the  hopes  of  a  life  to  come  are  a  chimera. — It 
was  therefore  requisite,  that  there  should  re- 
main in  the  church  this  monument  of  the  cre- 
ation of  the  universe. 

The  second  reason  was  to  prevent  idolatry. 
This  remark  claims  peculiar  attention,  many  of 
the  Mosaic  precepts  being  founded  on  the  situ- 
ation in  which  the  .lews  were  placed.  Let  this 
general  remark  he  applied  to  the  subject  in 
liand.  Tlic  people,  on  leaving  Egypt,  were 
sejiarated  from  a  nation  that  worsliip()ed  the 
sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars.  I  might  prove  it 
by  various  documents  of  anticjuity.  A  passage 
of  Diodorus  of  Sicily,  shall  suffice:  "  The  an- 
cient Egyptians  (he  says,)  struck  with  the 
beauty  of  the  universe,  thought  it  owed  its  ori- 
gin to  two  eternal  divinities,  that  presided  over 
all  the  others:  the  one  was  the  sun,  to  whom 
they  gave  the  name  of  Osiris;  the  other  was  the 


moon,  to  whom  they  gave  the  name  of  Isis." 
(iod,  to  preserve  his  jieople  from  these  errors, 
instituted  a  festival  which  sapped  the  whole 
system,  and  which  avowedly  contemplated 
every  creature  of  the  universe,  as  the  produc- 
tion of  the  Supreme  Being.  And  this  may  be 
the  reason  why  INloses  remarked  to  the  Jews  on 
leaving  Egypt,  that  God  renewed  the  institution 
of  the  sabbath.  The  passage  1  have  in  view  is 
in  the  fifth  chapter  of  Deuteronomy.  "  Re- 
member that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the  land  of 
Kgypt,  and  the  Lord  thy  God  brought  thee  out, 
therefore  he  commandeth  thee  to  keej)  his  sab- 
bath.'" 

We  must  consequently  regard  the  sabbath- 
day  as  a  hiirh  avowal  of  the  Jews  of  their  de- 
testation of  idolatry,  and  of  their  ascribing  to 
God  alone  the  origin  of  the  universe.  An  ex- 
pression of  E/ekiel  is  to  the  same  effect:  he  calls 
the  sabbath  a  sign  between  God  and  his  people: 
"  1  gave  them  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between 
me  and  tliom,  that  they  might  know  that  1  am 
the  Lord  that  sanctify  them,"  Ezek.  xx.  12.  It 
is  for  this  very  reason,  that  the  prophets  exclaim 
so  strongly  against  the  violation  of  the  sabbath: 
it  is  for  the  same  reason  that  God  commanded 
it  to  be  observed  with  so  high  a  sanction:  it  is 
for  the  same  reason  that  the  sabbath-breakers 
were  so  rigorously  punished;  even  tliat  one  for 
gathering  a  bundle  of  sticks,  was  stoned  by  the 
people.  The  law  expressly  enjoins  that  those 
who  profane  the  festival  should  be  awfully  ana- 
thematized. Tlie  passage  is  veiy  remarkable. 
"  Yc  shall  therefore  keep  the  sabbath;  for  it  is 
holy  unto  )'ou:  every  one  that  defileth  it  shall 
surely  be  jmt  to  death;  for  whosoever  doeth  any 
work  therein,  that  soul  shall  be  cut  off  from 
amongst  his  people,'"  Exod.  xxxi.  14.  This  ex- 
pression is  approjiriate  to  the  great  anathema, 
which  was  always  followed  by  death.  Whence 
should  proceed  so  many  cautions,  so  many  ri- 
gours, so  many  threatenings,  so  many  promises? 
You  cannot  account  for  them,  if  the  sabbath  be 
placed  among  the  ceremonial  institutions  of  the 
Hebrew  code.* 

3.  God  was  wishful  to  promote  humanity. 
With  that  view  he  prescribed  repose  to  the  ser- 
vants and  handmaids;  that  is,  to  domestics  and 
slaves.  Look  on  the  situation  of  slaves:  it  is  as 
oppressive  as  that  of  the  beasts.  They  saw  no 
termination  of  their  servitude  but  after  the  ex- 
piration of  seven  years:  and  it  might  happen, 
that  their  masters  seeing  the  servitude  about  to 
expire,  would  become  more  rigorous,  with  a 
view  to  indemnif^y  themselves  beforehand  for 
the  services  they  were  about  to  lose.  It  was 
requisite  to  remind  them,  that  God  interests 
himself  for  men  whose  condition  was  so  abject 
and  oppressive.  This  reminds  me  of  a  fine  pas- 
sa<Te  in  Plato,  who  says,  "  that  the  gods, 
moved  by  the  unhappy  situation  of  slaves,  have 
instituted  the  sacred  festivals  to  procure  them 
relaxation  from  labour."!  And  Cicero  says, 
"  that  the  festivals  are  destined  to  sus])end  the 
disputes  between  freemen,  and  the  labours  of 
slaves."*;  For  the  motives  of  humanity,  it  is 
subjoined  in  the  precept,  "  Thou  shall  do  no 


*  Il  is  to  be  regretted  that  several  writers  in  our  own 
country  have  latterly  attempted  to  class  the  sabbath  amout; 
the  ceremonial  institutions,  which  is  a  perversiou  of  its 
desipn. 

t  De  legibui  lib.  2  J  De  Ueibus. 


372 


ON  FESTIVALS,  AND  PARTICULARLY 


[Ser.  XCV. 


manner  of  work,  neillier  thou,  nor  thine  ox, 
nor  thine  ass." 

I  may  here  put  lh(;  same  question  that  St. 
Paul  once  put  to  the  Corinthians,  "  Doth  God 
take  care  for  o.veii.'"  No;  hut  tiiere  is  a  consti- 
tutional syinpatliy,  witiiout  which  the  lieart  is 
destitute  of  compassion.     So  is  the  import  of  a 
text  in  St.  John,  "  No  man  hath  seen  God  at 
any  time:  if  we  love  one  another,  God  dwellcth 
in  us,  and  his  love  is  perfect  in  us. — If  any  man 
say,  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brotiicr,  he  is  a 
liar.     For  he  that  lovclli  not  his  brother  whoui 
Jie  hath  seen,  iiow  can  ho  love  God  whom  he 
hath  not  seen?"     There  is  here  an  apparent  de- 
fect in  the  argumentation,  because  the  faults 
we  may  see  in  our  brotiicr,  may  obstruct  our 
attachment,  which  cannot  be  the  case  with  re- 
gard to  God.     But  the  apostle's  meaning  was, 
that  if  an  object  striking  the  senses,  as  our  bro- 
ther, does  not  excite  artection,  we  cannot  love 
an  object  that  is  abstract,  as  the  Divine  Nature. 
Now,  those  who  are  iiabitually  cruel  to  animals, 
are  generally  less  tender,  and  they  insensibly 
lose  that  constitutional  syinpatliy  which  pro- 
duces the  affections  of  the  heart  and  the  mind. 
This  constitutional  sympatiiy  excites  in  us  a 
painful  impression,  that  on  seeing  a  wounded 
man,  we  are  s])ontaneousIy  moved  to  succour 
the  afflicted.     This  sympathy  is  excited  not 
only  by  the  sight  of  a  man,  but  also  by  the  sight 
of  a  beast,  when  treated  with  cruelty.     Hence, 
on  habituating  ourselves  to  be  cruel  to  animals, 
we  do  violence  to  our  feelings,  harden  the  heart, 
and  extinguish  the  sympathy  of  nature.     Ah! 
how  suspicious  should  we  be  of  virtues  merely 
rational,  and  unconnected  with  the  heart.  They 
are  more  noble  indeed,  but  they  are  not  so  sure. 
We  may  al:<o  remark,  that  those  eniployed  in 
slaughtering  animals,  are  often  wanting  in  ten- 
derness and  affection.     And  tiiis  very  notion 
illustrates  several  of  the  Mosaic  laws,  which 
appear  at  first  destitute  of  propriety,  but  which 
are  founded  on  what  we  have  just  said.     Such 
is  the  law  which  prohibits  eating  of  tilings  stran- 
gled; such  is  the  law  on  finding  a  bird's  nest, 
which  forbids  our  taking  the  dam  with  the 
young:  such  also  is  that  where  God  forbids  our 
"seething a  kid  in  his  mother's  milk,"  Gen.  ix. 
4;  Deut.  xxii.  6,  *;  P>xod.  xxiii.  19.    In  the  last, 
■ome  have  thought  that  God  was  wishful  to 
fortify  the  Jews  against  a  superstitious  custom 
of  the  heathetis,  who  aller  having  gathered  the 
fruits  of  the  vine,  seethed  a  kid  in  his  mother's 
milk,  and  then  sprinkled  the  milk  to  Bacchus, 
that  he  might  cruelly  kill  this  animal  which  pre- 
Bumes  to  browse  on  tiie  vine  consecrated  to  the 
god.    Rut  I  doubt,  whether  from  all  the  ancient 
authors  they  can  adduce  a  passage  demonstra- 
tive that  this  species  of  superstition  was  known 
to  subsist  in  the  time  of  Moses.    This  difficulty 
is  obviated  by  the  explication  I  propose:  besides, 
it  excites  humanity  by  enjoining  compassion  to 
animals,  a  duty  inculcated  by  the  heathens. 
The  Phrygians  were  prohibited  from  killing  an 
ox  that  trod  out  the  corn.     The  judges  of  the 
Areopagus  exiled  a  boy,  who  had  plucked  out 
the  eyes  of  a  living  owl;  and  they  severely  pu- 
nished a  man  who  had  roasted  a  bull  alive.   The 
duty  of  humanity  is  consequently  a  third  motive 
of  the  institution  of  the  sabbath.     Hereby  God 
recalled  to  the  recollection  of  the  Jews  the  situ- 
ation in  which  they  had  been  placed  in  the  land 


of  Egypt.  "  The  seventh  day  is  the  sabbath  of 
the  Lord  thy  God, — that  thy  man-servant,  and 
thy  inaid-si-rvant  may  rest  as  well  as  thou.  And 
remember  that  thou  wast  a  servant  in  the  land 
of  Egypt,  and  that  the  Lord  thy  God  brought 
thee  thence,  througii  a  mighty  hand  and  out- 
stretched arm:  therefore  the  Lord  tiiy  God  com- 
mandeth  thee  to  keep  the  sabbatli-day,"  Deut. 
V.  14,  15. 

4.  In  a  word,  the  design  of  God  in  the  insti- 
tution of  the  sabbath,  was  to  recall  to  the  minds 
of  men  the  recollection  of  their  original  equality: 
he  requires  masters  and  servants  alike  to  abstain 
from  labour,  so  as  in  some  sort  to  confound  the 
diversity  of  tlieir  conditions,  and  to  abate  that 
pride,  of  which  superior  rank  is  so  common  a 
source. 

There  was  among  the  heathens  one  festival 
very  singular,  which  they  call  the  Saturnalia. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  ancient  festivals  of  pa- 
ganism. Macrobius  affirms,  that  it  was  cele- 
brated in  Greece  long  before  the  foundation  of 
Home.  The  masters  gave  the  servants  a  treat; 
they  placed  them  at  their  own  table,  and 
clothed  them  in  their  own  raiment.  The  hea- 
thens say,  that  this  festival  was  instituted  by 
king  Janls,  to  commemorate  the  age  of  Saturn, 
when  men  were  equal,  and  unacquainted  with 
the  distinctions  of  rank  and  fortune.  The  in- 
stitution was  highly  proper,  being  founded  on 
fact,  and  it  may  serve  as  an  illustration  of  our 
text. 

God  in  recalling  to  men  the  original  equality 
of  their  condition,  apprised  them  in  what  con- 
sisted the  true  excellence  of  man.  It  is  not  in 
the  difference  of  rank,  or  what  is  called  for- 
tune. It  consists  in  being  men:  it  consists  in 
the  image  of  God,  after  which  we  were  made: 
and  consequently,  the  humblest  of  men  made 
in  his  image,  are  entitled  to  respect. 

This  important  reflection,  I  would  inculcate 
on  imperious  masters,  who  treat  their  domes- 
tics as  the  brutes  destitute  of  knowledge.  We 
must  not,  I  grant,  disturb  the  order  of  society: 
the  Scriptures  themselves  suppose  the  diversity 
of  conditions.  Hence  they  prescribe  the  duties 
of  masters  to  their  servants,  and  the  duties  of 
servants  to  their  masters.  But  rank  cannot 
sanction  that  haughty  and  disdainful  carriage. 
Do  you  know  what  you  do  in  mauling  those 
whom  certain  advantages  have  placed  in  your 
power?  You  degrade  yourselves;  you  renounce 
your  proper  dignity;  and  in  assuming  an  extra- 
neous glory,  you  seem  but  lightly  to  esteem 
that  which  is  natural.  I  have  said,  that  the 
glory  of  man  does  not  consist  in  riches,  nor  in 
royalty,  but  in  the  excellence  of  his  nature,  ia 
the  image  of  God,  after  which  he  was  made, 
and  in  the  immortality  to  which  he  aspires.  If 
you  despise  your  servants,  you  do  not  derive 
your  dignity  from  these  sources,  but  from  your 
exterior  condition;  for,  if  you  derive  it  from  the 
sources  I  have  noticed,  you  would  respect  the 
persons  committed  to  your  care. — This  may 
suffice  for  the  reasons  of  the  institution  of  the 
sabbath,  let  us  say  a  word  on  the  manner  in 
which  it  must  Ihj  celebrated. 

2.  On  this  subject,  the  less  enlightened  rab- 
bins have  indulged  their  superstition  more  than 
on  any  other.  Having  distorted  the  idea  of 
the  day,  they  would  ascribe  to  the  sabbath  the 
power  of  conferring  dignity  on  inanimate  créa- 


Ser.  XCV.] 


ON  THE  SABBATH  DAY. 


373 


turcs:  they  even  assign  this  reason,  tliat  God 
prohibited  their  offering  him  any  victim  not  a 
week  old;  and  circumcising  their  children  till 
that  time;  they  assign,  I  say,  this  reason  that 
no  creature  could  be  worthy  to  be  offered  to 
him,  till  he  had  first  been  consecrated  by  a  sab- 
bath! 

They  have  distorted  also  the  obligation  im- 
posed upon  them  of  ceasing  from  labour.  The 
Rabbins  have  reduced  to  thirty-nine  heads 
whatever  they  presume  to  be  forbidden  on  that 
day.  Each  of  those  heads  includes  the  minutuF, 
and  not  only  the  minutiae,  and  tilings  directly 
opposed  to  the  happiness  of  society,  but  also  to 
the  spirit  of  tlie  precept.  Some  have  even 
scrupled  to  defend  their  own  lives  on  tiiat  day 
against  their  enemies.  Ptolemy  Lagus,  and 
Pompey  after  him,  at  the  siege  of  Jorusalnrn, 
availed  themselves  of  this  superstition.  Aiitio- 
chusEpijjlianes  perpetrated  an  action  still  more 
cruel  and  vile.  He  pursued  the  Jews  to  the 
caves,  whither  tiiey  had  fled  to  hide  from  his 
vengeance.  There,  on  the  sabbath-day,  they 
suffered  themselves  to  be  slaughtered  as  beasts, 
without  daring  either  to  defend  themselves  or 
even  to  secure  the  entrance  of  their  retreat. 

Some  others,  the  Dositheans,  a  branch  of 
the  Samaritans,  imposed  a  law  of  abiding  the 
whole  day  in  whatever  place  they  were  found 
by  the  sabbath.  We  recollect  the  story  of  the 
Jew,  who  having  fallen  into  an  unclean  place, 
refused  to  be  taken  out  on  the  sabbath-day;  as 
also  the  decision  of  the  Bishop' of  Saxony  on 
that  point,  who,  after  knowing  his  scruple, 
condemned  him  to  remain  there  the  whole  of 
the  Sunday  also,  it  being  just  that  a  Christian 
sabbath  should  be  observed  with  the  same  sanc- 
tity as  the  Jewish. 

They  have  likewise  cast  a  gloom  on  the  joy 
which  the  faithful  sliould  cherish  on  this  holy 
day.  It  is  a  fact,  that  some  of  them  flisted  to 
the  close  of  the  day:  to  this  custom  the  em- 
peror Augustine  alludes,  when  having  remain- 
ed a  whole  day  without  meat,  he  wrote  to  Ti- 
berias, that  a  Jew  did  not  better  observe  the 
fast  of  the  sabbath,  than  he  had  observed  it 
that  day.  But  the  greater  number  espoused 
the  opposite  side,  and  under  a  presumption  that 
the  prophet  promised  the  divine  approbation  to 
those  that  "  make  the  sabbath  their  delight," 
they  took  the  greater  precaution  to  avoid  what- 
ever might  make  them  sad.  They  imposed  a 
law  to  make  three  meals  that  day.  They  re- 
garded fasting  the  day  which  preceded,  and 
followed  the  sabbath,  as  a  crime,  lest  it  should 
disturb  the  joy.  They  allowed  more  time  for 
sleep  than  on  the  other  days  of  the  week;  they 
had  fine  dresses  for  the  sabbath;  they  reserved 
the  best  food,  and  the  most  delicious  wines  to 
honour  the  festival:  this  is  what  they  called 
"  making  the  sabbath  a  delight!"  this  induced 
Plutarch  to  believe  that  they  celebrated  this 
festival  in  honour  of  Bacchus,  and  that  the 
word  sabbath  was  derived  from  the  Greek  se6o- 
zein,  a  word  appropriate  to  the  licentious  prac- 
tices indulged  in  the  festivals  of  this  false  god. 
They  affirm,  on  not  attaining  the  sublime  of 
devotion,  that  the  cause  is  a  deficiency  of  re- 
joicing. They  even  presume,  that  this  joy 
reaches  to  hell,  and  that  the  souls  of  Jews  con- 
demned to  its  torments,  have  a  respite  on  the 
sabbath-day.    Evident  it  is,  that  all  those  no- 


tions and  licentious  customs  have  originated 
from  an  imaginary  superstition,  and  not  from 
the  word  of  God. 

Instead  of  the  whimsical  notions  they  had 
imbibed,  God  recjuired  a  conduct  consonant  to 
the  injunctions  of  his  law.  The  import  of  the 
phrase,  "  doing  thy  own  pleasure  on  my  holy 
day,"  is,  that  thou  follow  not  thy  own  caprice 
in  the  notions  thou  hast  formed  of  religion,  but 
what  I  myself  have  prescribed. 

Instead  of  the  imaginary  excellence  they  at- 
tributed to  tiie  sabbath,  God  requires  them  to 
reverence  it  because  it  was  a  sign  of  commu- 
nion with  him;  because  in  approaching  him  on 
this  day,  they  became  more  holy;  because  they 
then  renewed  their  vows,  and  became  more 
and  more  detached  from  idolatry,  and  in  fine, 
because  on  this  day  they  became  devoted  to  his 
worship  in  a  i)eculiar  manner.  This  is  the  im- 
I)ort  of  the  expression,  "  it  is  holy  to  the  Lord;" 
I  would  say,  it  is  distinguished,  it  is  separated, 
from  tiie  other  days  of  the  week,  for  the  duties 
of  religion. 

Instead  of  this  rigorous  sabbath,  God  requir- 
ed a  cessation  from  all  kinds  of  labour,  which 
would  tend  to  interrupt  their  meditations  on 
all  the  marvels  he  had  wrought  for  their  coun- 
try. He  especially  required  that  they  should 
abstain  from  travelling  long  journeys;  so  is  the 
gloss  which  s'-me  have  given  to  the  words,  "If 
thou  turn  away  thy  foot  from  the  sabbath," 
though,  perhaps,  withdrawing  the  foot  from 
the  sabbath  is  a  metajiborical  expression  for 
"ceasing  to  profane  it."  But  withal,  they 
were  allowed  to  do  works  of  mercy,  whether 
divine,  or  for  the  preservation  of  life.  Hence 
the  ma.xim  of  their  wiser  men,  that  "  the  dan- 
gers of  life  supei-seded  the  sabbath."  And  the 
celebrated  Maimonides  has  decided  the  lawful- 
ness of  the  Jews  besieging  and  defending  cities 
on  the  sabbath-day.  We  see  likewise  in  the 
history  of  the  Maccabees,  that  Matthias  and 
his  sons  defended  themselves  with  resolution 
on  that  day.  Besides,  they  were  always  allow- 
ed to  walk  what  is  called  "  a  sabbath-day's 
journey;"  that  is,  two  hundred  cubits,  the  dis- 
tance between  the  camp  and  the  tabernacle, 
while  they  were  in  the  desert:  every  Jew  being 
obliged  to  attend  the  divine  service,  it  was  re- 
quisite tliat  this  walk  sliould  be  allowed.* — 
I'liis  was  the  divine  worship,  whicii  above  all 
objects  must  engross  their  heart,  and  especially, 
tiie  reading  of  God's  word.  This,  perhaps,  is 
the  import  of  the  phrase,  which  excites  a  very 
diflTerent  idea  in  our  version,  "  nor  speaking 
thine  own  words,"  which  may  be  read,  that 
thou  mayest  attach  thyself  to  the  word. 

3.  It  remains  to  consider  the  promise  con- 
nected with  the  observation  of  the  sabbath. 
"  Then  thou  slialt  delight  thyself  in  the  Lord, 
and  I  will  cause  thee  to  ride  upon  the  high 
places  of  the  earth;  and  feed  thee  with  the 
heritage  of  Jacob  thy  father."  This  promise 
is  susceptible  of  a  double  import,  the  one  lite- 
ral, the  other  spiritual. 

The  literal  refers  to  temporal  prosperity;  it 
is  couched  in  figures  consonant  to  the  oriental 


*  From  the  centre,  the  place  of  the  Tabernacle,  to  the 
extremities  of  a  camp  of  Dearly  three  millions  of  people 
could  not  be  less  than  four  miles.  Hence  the  prohibition 
of  journeys  of  pleasure,  and  unholy  diversions,  eeenu  to 
bave  been  the  object  of  the  precept. 


374 


ON  FESTIVALS,  AND  PARTICULARLY 


[Ser.  XCV. 


style,  and  particularly  to  tho  prophetic.  Tlie 
high  places  of  the  earth,  arc  tliose  of  Palestine; 
so  called,  because  it  is  a  niouilainous  country. 
The  idea  of  our  prophet  coincides  with  what 
Moses  has  said  in  tlie  xxxiid  ciiapter  of  Deute- 
ronomy. "  He  has  made  him  to  ride  upon  the 
high  places  of  the  earth:  or  to  ride  on  liorse- 
back,"  as  in  our  te.xt,  which  implies  tlie  sur- 
mounting of  the  greatest  ditliculties.  Hence, 
God's  promise  to  those  who  should  observe  his 
sabbath,  of  riding  on  the  high  ])laces  of  the 
eartii,  imports,  tliat  tlicy  should  have  a  peace- 
ful residence  in  the  land  of  Canaan. 

Plenty  is  joined  to  peace  in  tlie  words  which 
follow:  "  I  will  feed  thee  witli  the  heritage  of 
Jacob  thy  father."  Here  is  designated  the 
abundaTice  whicli  the  descendants  of  the  patri- 
arch should  enjoy  in  tlie  promised  land.  Some 
presume  that  the  name  of  Jacob  is  here  men- 
tioned in  preference  of  Abraham,  because  Ja- 
cob had  a  peculiar  reverence  for  the  sabbath- 
day.  They  say,  that  Isaiah  here  refers  to  an 
occurrence  in  tlie  patriarch's  life.  It  is  record- 
ed in  the  xxxiiid  of  Genesis,  tliat  Jacol),  com- 
ing from  Padan-aram,  encamped  before  the 
city  of  Shechem:  and  tliey  contend,  that  it  was 
to  hallow  the  sabbath,  which  intervened  during 
his  march.  Reverie  of  tlie  Rabbins.  The 
promises  made  to  Abraliam,  and  Isaac,  respect- 
ing the  promised  land,  were  renewed  to  Jacob; 
hence  it  might  as  well  be  called  the  licrilage  of 
Jacob,  as  the  heritage  of  Abraham.  This  is 
the  literal  sense  of  my  te.it. 

It  has  also  a  spiritual  sense,  which  some  in- 
terpreters have  sought  in  this  phrase,  "the 
high  places  of  tiic  earth."  Tliey  think  it 
means  the  abode  of  the  blessed.  Not  wishful 
to  seek  it  in  the  expression,  we  sliall  find  it  in 
the  nature  of  the  object.  What  was  this  "  he- 
ritage of  Jacob?"  Was  it  only  Canaan  proper- 
ly so  called?  This  St.  Paul  denies  in  the  xith 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  Speak- 
ing of  the  faith  of  the  patriarchs,  ho  positively 
asserts,  that  the  promised  land  was  not  its  prin- 
cipal object.  The  "  heritage  of  .lacob,"  ac- 
cording to  the  apostle,  "  is  a  country  better  than 
that  which  the  patriarchs  had  left;"  "that  is, 
a  heavenly  country."  This  is  the  heritage  of 
which  the  expiring  patriarch  hoped  to  accjuire 
the  possession;  and  of  which  he  said  in  his  last 
moments,  "  O  God,  1  have  waited  for  thy  sal- 
vation," Gen.  xlix.  18.  Tiiis  Jerusalem,  the 
apostle  calls  a  high  j)lace,  the  "Jerusalem 
which  is  above,"  not  because  it  is  situate  on 
the  mountains,  but  because  it  really  is  above 
the  region  of  terrestrial  things.  This  is  the 
Jerusalem  which  is  the  mother  of  us  all,  and 
to  which  tlie  claims  of  Christians  are  not  less 
powerful  than  the  Jews. 

This  induces  us,  my  brethren,  to  consider  tho 
text  in  regard  to  (,'hristians,  as  we  have  consi- 
dered it  in  regard  to  Jews.  Perhaps  you  iiave 
secretly  reproaciied  us,  during  the  course  of 
this  sermon,  with  having  consumed,  in  less  in- 
structive researches,  the  limits  of  our  time. — 
But,  my  brethren,  if  you  complain  (jf  tho  re- 
mote reference  which  the  subject  has  to  your 
state,  I  fear,  1  do  fear,  you  will  nmrmur  against 
what  follows,  as  touching  you  too  closely.  I 
said  in  the  beginning,  that  it  was  the  dreadful 
excess  into  which  we  are  plunged;  the  horrible 
profanation  of  the  sabbath,  a  profanation  which 


has  so  long  and  so  justly  reproached  us,  which 
determined  mo  on  the  choice  of  this  text.  We 
proceed  tlierefore  to  some  more  pointed  re- 
marks, which  shall  close  this  discourse. 

II.  The  whole  is  reduced  to  two  questions, 
in  which  we  are  directly  concerned.  First,  are 
Christians  obliged  to  observe  a  day  of  rest;  and 
secondly,  in  these  provinces,  in  this  church,  is 
that  day  celebrated,  J  do  not  say  with  all  the 
sanctity  it  requires,  but  only,  is  it  observed  with 
the  same  reverence  as  in  the  rest  of  the  Chris- 
tian world,  even  in  places  the  most  corrupt? 

1.  Are  Christians  obliged  to  observe  a  day 
of  rest'  Thisfpiestion  has  been  debated  in  the 
primitive  church,  and  the  subject  has  been  re- 
sumed in  our  own  age.  Some  of  tiie  ancient 
and  of  the  modern  divines  have  maintain- 
ed, not  only  that  the  obligation  is  miposed  on 
Christians,  but  that  the  fourth  commandment 
of  the  law  ought  to  be  observed  in  all  its  ri- 
gour. Hence,  in  the  Krst  ages,  some  have  had 
the  same  respect  for  Saturday  as  for  Sunday. 
Gregory  Nazianzen  calls  these  two  days  two 
com|)anions,  for  whicli  we  should  cherish  an 
equal  respect.  The  constitution  of  Clement 
enjoin  both  these  festivals  to  be  observed  in 
the  church;  the  sabbath-day  in  honour  of  the 
creation,  and  the  Lord's-day,  which  exhibits 
to  our  view  the  resurrection  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  world. 

We  have  no  design,  my  brethren,  to  revive 
tliose  controversies,  this  part  of  our  discourse 
being  designed  for  your  edification.  You  are 
not  accused  of  wanting  respect  for  the  Satur- 
day, but  for  the  day  that  follows.  Your  defect 
is  not  a  wish  to  observe  two  sabbaths  in  the 
week,  but  a  refusal  to  observe  one.  It  is  then 
sutliciciit  to  jirovc,  that  Christians  are  obliged 
to  observe  one  day  in  the  week,  and  that  day 
is  tho  first.  This  is  apparent  from  four  consi- 
derations, which  1  proceed  to  name. 

First,  from  the  nature  of  the  institution.  It 
is  a  general  maxim,  that  whatever  morality 
was  contained  in  the  Jewish  ritual;  that  what- 
ever was  calculated  to  strengthen  the  bonds  of 
our  communion  with  God,  to  reconcile  us  to 
our  neighbour,  to  inspire  us  with  holy  thoughts,, 
was  obligatory  on  the  Christians;  and  more  so 
than  on  the  Jews,  in  projiortion  as  the  new 
covenant  surpasses  the  old  in  excellence.  Ap- 
ply this  maxim  to  our  subject.  The  precept 
under  discussion  has  a  ceremonial  aspect,  as- 
sortable  to  the  circumstances  in  which  the  an- 
cient church  were  placed.  The  selection  of 
the  seventh  day,  the  rigours  of  its  sanctity, 
and  its  designs  to  supersede  the  idolatrous  cus- 
toms of  Hgypt,  were  |)eculiar  to  the  ancient 
church,  and  juircly  ceremonial;  and  in  that 
view,  not  binding  to  the  christian.  But  the 
necessity  of  having  one  day  in  seven  conse- 
crated to  the  worship  of  God,  to  study  the 
grand  truths  of  religion,  to  make  a  ])ublic  pro- 
fession of  faith,  to  give  relaxation  to  servants, 
to  coiifound  all  distinction  of  rank  in  congrega- 
tions, to  acknowledge  that  we  are  all  brethren, 
that  wo  arc  equal  in  the  sight  of  God,  who 
there  presides,  all  these  are  not  comprised  in 
the  ritual,  they  are  wholly  moral. 

2.  We  have  proofs  in  the  New  Testament, 
that  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  chosen  of' 
God  to  succeed  the  seventh.  This  day  is  call- 
ed in  the  Book  of  Revelation,  "  the  Lord's- 


Ser.  XCV.] 


ON  THE  SABBATH-DAY. 


375 


day,"  by  way  of  excellence,  i.  10.  It  is  said 
in  the  xxtii  cliaptur  of  the  ]5ook  of  Acts,  tliat 
the  apostles  "  caino  together  on  the  first  day 
of  tlie  weclf  to  break  bread."  And  St.  Paul, 
writing  to  the  Corinthians  to  hiy  by  on  tlic 
first  day  of  tiie  week  wliat  each  iiad  designed 
for  ciiarily,  sanctions  tiie  Sunday  to  be  observ- 
ed instead  of  tiie  Saturday,  seeing  tiie  Jews, 
according  to  tiie  testimony  of  I'liilo,  and  Jose- 
phiis,  had  been  accustomed  to  make  tiie  col- 
lections on  tlie  sabbatli-day,  and  receive  the 
tcntiis  in  tiie  synagogues  to  carry  to  Jerusa- 
lem.* 

3.  On  tliis  subject,  we  have  likewise  au- 
thentic documents  of  aiili(iuity.  Pliny,  tiie 
younger,  in  liis  letter  to  tliu  em[)eror  Trajan 
concerning  tlie  C'liristians,  says,  that  they  set 
a|)art  one  day  for  devotion,  and  it  is  indisputa- 
ble that  he  means  the  Sunday.  Justin  Martyr 
in  his  Apologies,  and  in  his  letter  to  Denis, 
pastor  of  Corintli,  bears  the  same  testimony. 
The  emperor  Constantino  made  severe  laws 
against  tliose  who  did  not  sanctify  the  sabbath. 
These  laws  were  renewed  by  Theodosius,  by 
Valentinian,  by  Arcadius;  for,  my  brethren, 
these  em[)erors  did  not  confine  tlieir  duties  to 
the  extension  of  trade,  the  defence  of  their 
country,  and  to  the  establisliment  of  politics 
as  the  supreme  law;  they  tliougiit  themselves 
obliged  to  maintain  llie  laws  of  God,  and  to 
render  reliirion  venerable;  and  they  reckoned 
that  the  best  barriers  of  a  state  were  the  fear 
of  God,  and  a  zeal  for  his  service.  They  is- 
sued severe  edicts  to  enforce  attendance  on  de- 
votion, and  to  prohibit  [jrofane  s])orts  on  tliis 
day.  The  second  council  of  Macon, f  licld  in 
the  year  585,  and  the  second  of  Aix-la-Clia- 
pelle,  held  in  S3C,  followed  by  their  canons  the 
same  line  of  duty. 

4.  But  the  grand  reason  for  consecrating  one 
day  in  seven  arises  from  ourselves,  from  tlie  in- 


*  Saurin  is  here  brief  on  the  reasons  assigned  for  the 
change  of  the  sabbath,  from  the  seventh  to  the  first  day 
of  the  week.  The  reader,  however,  may  see  them  at 
large  in  the  second  volume  of  Dr.  Lightloot's  works,  and 
in  the  >%orks  of  Mr.  Mcde.  They  are  in  substance  as 
follow:  that  the  Son  of  Man  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath;  and 
the  Supreme  Lawgiver  of  his  church.  He  has  not  only 
chaneed  the  old  covenant  for  the  new.  but  he  has  supcr- 
gedeu  the  shadows  of  the  ritual  law  for  the  realities;  bap- 
tism for  circumcision,  and  the  holy  supper  for  the  pass- 
over.  The  sabbath  was  first  instituted  to  commemorate 
the  creation;  and  the  redemption  is  viewed  at  large  as  a 
new  creation.  Ka.  Ixv.  The  institution  was  renewed  to 
commemorate  the  emancipation  from  Egypt;  how  much 
more  then  should  it  be  enforced  to  commemorate  the  re- 
demption of  the  world?  To  disregard  it  would  appa- 
rently implicate  us  in  a  disbelief  of  this  redemption. 
Moses,  who  renewed  the  sabbath,  was  faithful  as  a  ser 
vaiil,  but  Christ,  who  changed  it,  is  the  Son,  and  Lord  of 
all.  The  sabbath  was  the  birth-day  of  the  Lord  of  Glory 
from  the  tomb;  "  Thou  art  my  Son;  this  day  have  I  be- 
gotten thee,"  Ps.  ii.  It  was  not  less  so  the  birth-day  of 
our  hope;  God  hath  bfgotten  us  again  "  unto  a  lively 
hope  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead," 
1  Pet.  1.3.  And  this  was  the  day  in  which  he  began  his 
glorious  reign.  He  then  alfirmed,  that  "  All  power  was 
given  unto  him  in  heaven  and  earth,"  Matt,  xxviii.  18. 
And  how  rould  the  chnrrli  rejoice  while  the  Lord  was 
enveloped  in  the  tomb.'  But  on  the  morning  of  the  resur- 
rection, it  was  said  by  the  h'alhcr  to  the  Son,  "Thy  dead 
men  shall  live."  The  Son  replies,  "  Together  with  my 
dead  body  shall  they  arise!  Awake,  and  sing,  ye  that 
dwell  in  dust,"  Isa.  xxvi.  19.  "  This  i«  the  day  the  Lord 
hath  made;  we  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  iu  it."  Psalms 
cxviii.  24.  I.  S. 

t  Macon,  Malisco,  is  situate  40  miles  north  of  Lyons, 
and  was  a  depot  of  tlie  Romans. — Boiste's  Did.  Ib06. 
1.  S. 


finity  of  di.ssipations  which  was  the  ordinary 
course  of  life.  Tax  your  conscience  with  the 
time  you  spend  in  devotion  when  alone.  Do 
we  not  know;  do  we  not  sec;  do  we  not  learn 
on  all  sides,  how  your  days  are  spent'  Do  wo 
not  know  how  those  grave  men  live,  who,  from 
a  notion  of  superior  rank,  think  tliemselves  ex- 
cused from  examining  their  conscience,  and  at- 
tending to  the  particulars  of  religion.'  Do  we  not 
know  how  tliat  part  of  mankind  live,  who  ap- 
parently have  abandoned  the  care  of  their  soul 
to  care  for  their  body,  to  dress  and  to  undress, 
to  visit  and  receive  visits,  to  play  both  night 
and  day,  and  tlius  to  render  diversions,  some 
of  whicli  niiglit  be  innocent  as  recreations,  if 
used  with  moderation,  to  render  tliem,  I  say, 
criminal,  by  tlie  loss  of  time.'  Is  it  solitude,  is 
it  reading  God's  word  vvhicli  excite  tliose  reve- 
ries which  constantly  float  in  your  brain;  and 
those  extravagances  of  pleasures  whereby  you 
seem  to  have  assumed  the  task  of  astonisliing 
the  church  liy  the  aniuscinent  you  afford  to 
some,  and  the  offence  you  give  to  others.'  It 
was,  therefore,  requisite  that  there  should  be 
one  day  destined  to  stop  the  torrent,  to  recall 
your  wandering  thouglits,  and  to  present  to 
your  view  tliose  grand  trutlis,  wliich  so  seldom 
occur  in  tlie  ordinary  pursuits  of  life. 

These  remarks  may  suffice  for  the  illustra- 
tion of  the  first  quesHon,  whetlier  Christians 
are  obliged  to  observe  one  day  in  seven:  our 
second  uuiuirtj  is,  whetlier  this  day  is  celebrated 
in  these  provinces,  I  do  not  say  as  it  ought; 
but,  at  least,  is  it  celebrated  with  the  same  de- 
cency as  in  the  most  corrupt  parts  of  the  Chris- 
tian world.' 

Ah!  my  brethren,  must  every  duty  of  Chris- 
tianity suffgest  occasion  to  complain  of  your 
conduct,  and  furnish  impeaclinients  for  your 
condemnation.'  I  look  round  for  one  trait  in 
morality,  to  which  we  have  nothing  but  ap- 
plause to  bestow,  and  of  which  we  may  say, 
go  on,  go  on;  that  is  well  done,  "  Blessed  is 
tliat  servant,  whom  when  his  Lord  cometh  he 
shall  find  so  doing.  I  look  for  one  period  in 
your  life  in  which  I  may  find  you  Christians  in 
reality,  as  you  are  in  name.  I  watch  you  for 
six  days  in  the  bustle  of  business,  and  I  find 
you  haughty,  proud,  voluptuous,  selfish,  and 
refractory  to  every  precept  of  the  gospel.  Per- 
haps, on  this  hallowed  day  you  sliall  be  found 
irreproachable;  perhaps,  satisfied  with  giving 
to  the  world  six  days  of  the  week,  you  will 
consecrate  to  tlie  Lord  the  one  which  is  so-pe- 
culiarly  devoted  to  him.  But,  alas!  this  day, 
this  very  day,  is  spent  as  the  others;  the  same 
pursuits,  the  same  thouglits,  tiie  same  plea- 
sures, the  same  employments,  the  same  intem- 
perance! 

In  other  places,  they  observe  the  exterior, 
at  least.  The  libertine  suspends  his  pleasures, 
tlie  workmen  quit  their  trades,  and  the  shops 
are  shut:  and  each  is  accustomed  to  attend 
some  place  of  worship.  But  how  many  among 
us,  very  far  from  entering  into  the  spirit  and 
temper  of  Christianity,  are  negligent  of  its  ex- 
terior decencies! 

How  scandalous  to  see  on  the  sabbath,  the 
artificer,  publicly  employed  at  his  work,  pro- 
faning this  hallowed  festival  by  his  common 
trade;  wasting  the  hours  of  devotion  in  me- 
clianical  laboursj    and  defying,  at  the  same 


376 


ON  FESTIVALS,  &c. 


[Ser.  XCV. 


time,  both  the  precepts  of  religion,  and  the  in- 
stitutions of  the  cliurch! 

How  scandalous  to  see  persons  of  rank,  of 
age,  of  cliaractcr,  live,  I  do  not  say  wliole  weeks, 
I  do  not  say  wliole  months,  hut  wiiole  years, 
without  once  entering  these  churches,  attend- 
ing our  devotion,  and  participating  of  our  sacra- 
ments! 

How  scandalous  that  tliis  sabbath  is  the  very 
day  marked  by  some  for  parties,  and  festivity 
in  the  highest  style!  llow  scandalous  to  see 
certain  concourses  of  ])eo])le;  certain  doors 
open;  and  certain  flambeaux  lighted:  those 
who  have  heard  a  rcj)ort  that  you  are  C'liris- 
tians,  expect  to  find  you  in  the  jiouses  of  prayer: 
but  what  is  their  astonishment  to  see  that  tiiose 
houses  are  tiie  rendezvous  of  pleasure! 

And  what  must  we  think  of  secret  devotion, 
when  the  public  is  so  ill  disciiarged?  How 
shall  we  persuade  ourselves  that  you  discharge 
the  more  difficult  duties  of  religion,  when 
those  that  are  most  easy  are  neglected?  See- 
ing you  do  not  sufliciently  reverence  religion 
to  forego  certain  recreations,  how  can  we  tiiink 
that  you  discharge  the  duties  of  self-denial,  of 
crucifying  the  old  man,  of  mortifying  concu- 
piscence, and  of  all  the  self-abasement,  which 
religion  requires? 

What  mortifies  us  most,  and  what  obliges 
us  to  fonn  an  awful  opinion  on  this  conduct  is, 
that  we  see  its  principle. — Its  principle,  do 
you  ask,  my  brethren?  It  is,  in  general,  that 
you  have  very  little  regard  for  religion;  and 
this  is  the  most  baneful  source,  from  which  our 
vices  spring.  When  a  man  is  abandoned  to  a 
bad  habit;  when  he  is  blinded  by  a  certain  pas- 
sion; when  he  is  hurried  away  with  a  throng 
of  desire,  he  is  then  highly  culpable,  and  he 
has  the  justest  cause  of  alarm,  if  a  liand,  an 
immediate  hand,  be  not  put  to  the  work  of  re- 
formation. In  this  case,  one  may  presume, 
that  he  has,  notwithstanding,  a  certain  respect 
for  the  God  he  offends.  One  may  presume, 
that  though  he  neglects  to  reform,  he,  at  least, 
blames  his  conduct;  and  that  if  the  clmrm 
were  once  dissolved,  truth  would  resume  her 
original  right,  and  that  the  motives  of  virtue 
would  be  telt  in  all  their  force.  But  when  a 
man  sins  by  principle;  when  he  slights  religion; 
when  he  regards  it  as  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence; what  resource  of  salvation  have  we  then 
to  hope?  This,  with  many  of  you,  is  the  lead- 
ing fault.  The  proofs  are  but  too  recent,  and 
too"  numerous.  You  have  been  often  reproach- 
ed with  it,  and  if  I  abridge  tliis  point,  it  is  not 
through  a  deficiency,  but  a  superabundance  of 
evidence,  which  obliges  me  to  do  it.  And 
meanwhile,  what  alas!  is  this  fortune;  what  is 
this  prosj)erity;  what  is  the  most  enviable  situ- 
ation in  life;  what  is  all  this  that  pleases,  and 
enchants  tlie  soul,  wlien  it  is  not  religion  which 
animates  and  governs  the  whole? 

Ah!  my  brethren!  to  what  e.\cess  do  you  ex- 
tend your  corruption?  What  then  is  the  time 
you  would  devote  to  piety?  When  will  you 
work  for  your  soul.-*?  We  conjure  you  by  the 
bowels  of  Jfsus  Christ,  who  on  this  day  finish- 
ed the  work  of  your  salvation,  that  you  return 
to  recollection.  When  we  enforce,  in  general, 
the  necessity  of  holiness,  wo  arc  lost  in  the 
multitude  of  your  duties,  and  having  too  many 
things  to  practise,  you  often  practise  none  at 


all.  But  here  is  one  particular  point;  here  is  a 
plain  precept,  Remember  the  Sabbatli  day. 

A  mournful  necessity  induces  us,  my  bre 
thren,  to  exhort  you  to  estimate  the  privilege 
God  ailbrds  you  of  coming  to  his  house,  of 
pouring  out  your  souls  hito  his  bosom,  and  of 
invigorating  your  love. 

Ah!  poor  Ciiristians,  whom  Babylon  encloses 
in  her  walls,  how  are  you  to  conduct  your- 
selves in  the  discharge  of  those  duties!  O  that 
God,  wearied  with  llie  strokes  inflicted  upon 
you,  would  turn  away  from  his  indignation! 

0  that  the  barriers  which  prohibit  your  access 
to  these  happy  climates  were  removed!  O  that 
your  hopes,  so  often  illusive,  were  "but  gratified. 

1  seem  to  see  you,  running  in  crowds:  I  seem 
to  see  the  fallen  rise  again;  and  our  confessors, 
more  grateful  for  their  spiritual,  than  their 
temporal  liberty,  come  to  distinguish  their 
zeal.  But  these  are  things  as  yet,  "  hid  from 
your  eyes." 

O  my  God!  and  must  thy  church  still  be  a 
desolation  in  all  the  earth?  Must  it  in  one 
place  be  ravaged  b}'  the  tyrant,  and  in  another 
seduced  by  the  tempter;  an  enemy  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  tyrants,  and  more  cruel  than 
the  heathen?  Must  our  brethren  at  the  gal- 
leys still  be  deprived  of  the  sabbath,  and  must 
we,  by  the  profanation  of  this  day,  force  thee 
to  visit  us,  as  thou  hast  visited  them?  Let  us 
prevent  so  great  a  calamity;  let  us  return  to 
ourselves;  let  us  hallow  this  august  day;  let 
us  reform  our  habits;  and  let  us  "make  the 
sabbath  our  delight." 

It  is  requisite  that  each  should  employ  the 
day  in  contemplating  the  works  of  nature;  but 
especially  the  works  of  grace;  and  like  the 
cherubim  inclined  toward  the  ark,  that  each 
should  make  unavailing  efforts  to  see  the  bot- 
tom, and  trace  the  dimensions,  "  the  length  and 
breadth,  the  depth  and  height,  of  the  love  of 
God,  which  passeth  all  knowledge,"  Eph.  iii. 
19. 

It  is  requisite,  that  our  churches  should  be 
crowded  with  assiduous,  attentive,  and  well- 
disposed  hearers;  that  God  should  there  hear 
tlie  vows  that  we  are  his  people,  his  redeemed, 
and  that  we  wi^h  the  sabbath  to  be  a  "  sign  be- 
tween us  and  him,"  as  it  was  to  the  Israelites. 
It  is  requisite,  on  entering  tliis  place,  that 
we  should  banish  from  our  mind  all  worldly 
thoughts.  Business,  trade,  speculations,  gran- 
deur, pleasure,  you  employ  me  sufliciently  dur- 
ing the  week,  allow  me  to  give  the  sabbath  to 
God.  Pursue  me  not  to  liis  temple;  and  let 
not  the  flights  of  inconunoding  birds  disturb 
my  sacrifice. 

It  is  requisite  at  the  close  of  worship,  that 
each  should  be  recollected,  that  he  should  me- 
ditate on  what  he  has  heard,  and  that  the 
company  with  whom  ho  associates  should  as- 
sist him  to  practise,  not  to  eradicate  tlie  truths 
from  liis  mind. 

It  is  requisite  that  the  heads  of  houses  should 
call  their  children,  and  their  servants  together, 
and  ask  them.  What  have  you  heard?  What 
have  you  understood?  What  faults  have  you 
reformed?  What  stejjs  have  you  taken?  What 
good  resolutions  have  you  formed? 

It  is  requisite  wholly  to  dismiss  all  those  se- 
cular cares  and  servile  employments  which 
have  occupied  us  during  the  week;  not  that 


Ser.  XCVI.] 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


377 


holiness  consists  in  mere  abstinence,  and  in 
the  observance  of  that  painful  minutia;;  but 
in  a  more  noble  and  exalted  principle.  It  is, 
no  doubt,  the  obtrusion  of  a  galling  yoke,  tiiat 
we,  wlio  are  made  in  tlic  image  of  God,  and 
have  an  immortal  soul,  should  be  compelled, 
during  the  whole  of  this  low  and  irrovelling 
life,  to  follow  some  trade,  some  profession,  or 
some  labour,  by  no  means  assortahle  with  the 
dignity  of  man.  So  is  our  calamity,  ihit  it 
is  requisite  at  least,  it  is  highly  requisite,  that 
one  day  in  the  week  we  should  remember  our 
origin,  and  turn  our  minds  to  things  which  are 
worthy  of  their  excellence,  it  is  recpiisite, 
that  one  day  in  the  week  we  should  rise  supe- 
rior to  sensible  objects;  that  we  should  think 
of  God,  of  heaven,  and  of  eternity;  that  we 
should  repose,  if  1  may  so  speak,  from  the  vio- 
lence which  must  be  done  to  ourselves  to  be 
detained  on  earth  inr  six  whole  days.  O  bless- 
ed God,  when  shall  "  the  times  of  refreshing 
come,"  in  which  thou  wilt  supersede  labour, 
and  make  thy  children  fully  freer  Acts  iii.  21. 
When  shall  "  we  enter  the  rest  that  remaineth 
for  thy  people?"  Ileb.  iv.  9;  in  which  we  shall 
be  wholly  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
thy  beauty,  we  shall  resemble  thee  in  holiness 
and  happiness,  because  "  we  shall  see  thee  as 
thou  art,"  and  thou  thyself  shalt  "  be  all  in 
alF'    Amen. 


SERMON  XCVI. 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


LcKE  xiii.  1 — 5. 
There  rcere  preseiU  at  thai  season  some  that  told 
him  of  the  Galileans,  whose  blood  Pilate  had 
mingled  icith  their  sacrifices,     ^ind  Jesus  an- 
swering, said  unto  them,  suppose  ye  that  these 
Galileans,  were  sinners  above  all  the  Galileans, 
because  they  suffered  such  thii^s?     I  ttll  you, 
nay;  but,  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  like- 
wise perish.     Or  those  eighteen  xipon  u'hom 
the  tower  in  Siloam  fell,  and  slew  them,  think 
ye  that  theyicere  sinners  above  all  that  dwelt  in 
Jerusalem?     I  tell  you,  nay:  but  except  ye  re- 
pent ye  shall  all  likewise  perish. 
"  I  HAVE  cut  off  the  nations,  1  have  made 
their  towers  desolate,  I  have  sapped  the  foun- 
dation of  their  cities;  I  said,  surely  thou  shalt 
receive  instruction,  so  that  thy  dwelling  shall 
not  be  cut  off,"  Zeph.  iii.  6,  'i.     This  instruc- 
tive caution  God  once  published  by  the  minis- 
try of  Zcphaniah.     And  did  it  regard  that  age 
alone,  or  was  it  a  prophecy  for  future  times? 
Undoubtedly,   my   brethren,    it   regarded   the 
Jews  in  the  prophet's  time.     They  saw  every 
where  around  them  exterminated  nations,  for- 
tresses in  ruins,  villages  deserted,  and  cities 
sapped  to  the  foundation.     The  judgments  of 
God  had  fallen,  not  only  on  the  idolatrous  na- 
tions, but  the  ten  tribes  had  been  overwhelm- 
ed.   The  Jews,  instead  of  receiving  imtruction, 
followed  the  crimes  of  those  whom  God  had 
cut  off,  and  involved  themselves  in  the  same 
calamities. 

And    if  these  words  were   adapted  to   that 
age,  how  strikingly,  alas!  are  they  appUcable 
Vol.  11.-48 


to  our  own?  What  do  we  see  around  us.' 
Naticjns  exterminated,  villages  deserted,  and 
cities  Kap|)cd  to  the  foundation.  The  visita- 
tions of  God  are  abroad  in  Europe;  wo  are 
surrounded  with  them;  and  are  they  not  in- 
tended, 1  appeal  to  your  conscience,  for  our 
instruction?  Jiut  let  us  not  anticipate  the  close 
of  this  discourse.  We  propose  to  show  you 
in  what  light  we  ought  to  view  the  judgmenta 
which  God  inflicts  on  the  human  kind.  You 
have  heard  the  words  of  our  text.  We  shall 
stop  but  a  moment  to  mark  the  occasion,  and 
direct  the  whole  of  our  care  to  enforce  their 
principal  design.  After  having  said  a  word 
respecting  "  the  Galileans,  whose  blood  Pilate 
had  mingled  with  their  sacrifices;"  and  respect- 
ing the  dreadful  fall  of  this  tower  which  crush- 
ed eighteen  persons  under  its  ruins,  we  shall 
endeavour  to  examine. 

I.  The  misguided  views  with  which  man- 
kind regard  the  judgments  God  openly  inflicts 
upon  their  neighbours. 

II.  The  real  light  in  which  those  judgments 
ought  to  be  considered.  The  first  of  these 
ideas  we  shall  illustrate  on  the  occasion  of  the 
tragic  accidents  mentioned  in  the  text,  which 
were  reported  to  Jesus  Christ.  The  second, 
we  shall  illustrate  on  occasion  of  the  answer 
of  Jesus  Christ  himself;  "  Suppose  ye  that 
these  Galileans  were  sinners  above  all  the  Gali- 
leans' Suppose  ye  that  those  eighteen  were 
sinners  above  all  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem?  I 
tell  you,  nay:  but  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall 
all  likewise  perish."  Considering  the  te.xt  in 
this  view,  we  shall  learn  to  avert  the  judg- 
ments of  God  from  falling  on  our  own  heads, 
by  the  way  in  which  we  shall  consider  his 
visitations  on  others.     God  grant  it.     Amen. 

What  was  the  occasion  of  Pilate's  cruelty, 
and  of  the  vengeance  he  inflicted  on  those 
Galileans?  This  is  a  question  diflicult  to  de- 
termine. The  most  enlightened  commentators 
assure  us,  that  they  find  no  traces  of  it  either 
in  Jewish,  or  in  Roman  history.  The  wary 
Josephus,  according  to  his  custom  on  those 
subjects,  is  silent  here;  and,  probably,  on  the 
same  principle  which  induced  him  to  make  no 
mention  of  the  murder  of  the  infants  commit- 
ted by  the  cruel  Herod. 

Pilate  you  know  in  general.  He  was  one 
of  those  men  whom  God,  in  the  profound  se- 
crets of  his  providence,  suffers  to  attain  the 
most  distinguished  rank  to  execute  his  designs, 
when  they  have  no  view  but  the  gratification 
of  their  own  passions.  He  was  a  man,  in 
whom  much  cruelty,  joined  to  extreme  ava- 
rice, rendered  proper  to  be  a  rod  in  God's 
hand;  and  who,  following  the  passions  which 
actuated  his  mind,  sometimes  persecuting  the 
Jews  to  please  the  heathens,  and  sometimes 
the  Christians  to  please  the  Jews,  sacrificed 
the  Finisher  of  our  faith,  and  thus  after  trou- 
bling the  synagogue,  he  became  the  tyrant 
of  both  the  churches. 

Perhaps  the  vengeance  he  executed  on  the 
Galileans  was  not  wholly  without  a  cause. 
Here  is  what  some  have  conjectured  upon  this 
narrative.  Gaulon*  was  a  town  of  Galilee; 
here  a  certain  Judas  was  born,  who  on  that 
account  wassurnamed  the  Gaulonite,  of  whom 


*  Josepli.  Antiq.  lib.  la.  c.  1. 


378 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


[Ser.  XCVI. 


wo  have  an  account  in  tlic  fifth  cha])ter  of  the 
book  of  the  Acts.*  This  man  was  naturally 
inchneil  to  sedition.  He  communicated  the 
spirit  of  revolt  to  liis  family,  from  his  family 
to  the  city,  from  the  city  to  tliu  province,  and 
from  the  province  to  all  Jiuica.  He  had  the 
art  of  catcliing  the  Jews  by  their  passions;  1 
would  say,  by  their  love  of  liberty.  Ho  excit- 
ed them  to  assert  their  rights,  to  maintain 
their  privileges,  to  throw  otf  the  yoke  the  Ro- 
mans wished  to  impose,  and  to  wilhiiold  the 
tribute.  He  succeeded  in  his  designs;  the  Jews 
revered  him  as  a  patriot.  Rut  to  remedy  an 
inconsiderable  evil,  he  involved  them  in  a  thou- 
sand disgraces.  It  has  been  conjectured  that 
those  whose  blood  was  mingled  with  their 
sacrifices,  were  some  of  the  seditious  who  had 
come  to  Jerusalem  to  celebrate  the  passover, 
and  of  whom  IMlate  wished  to  make  an  exam- 
ple to  intimidate  others. 

What  we  said  of  Pilate's  cruelty,  suggested 
by  the  subject,  is  wholly  uncertain;  we  say  the 
same  of  the  tragic  accident  immediately  sub- 
joined in  our  text;  I  would  say,  the  tower  of 
Siloam,  which  crushed  eighteen  people  under 
its  ruins.  We  know  in  general,  that  there 
was  a  fountain  in  Jerusalem  called  Siloam, 
mentioned  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  St.  John, 
and  in  the  eightli  chapter  of  Isaiah.  We  know 
that  this  fountain  was  at  the  loot  of  mount 
Zion,  as  many  historians  have  asserted.  We 
know  that  it  had  live  jiorches,  as  the  gospel 
expressly  affirms.  We  know  several  particu- 
lars of  this  fountain,  that  it  was  completely 
dried  up  before  the  arrival  of  the  emperor 
Titus;  and  that  it  flowed  not  again  till  the 
commencement  of  the  siege  of  Jerusalem:  so  we 
are  assured  by  Josejjhus.f  We  know  likewise, 
that  the  empress  Helena  embellished  it  with 
various  works,  described  by  IVicephorus.J  We 
know  likewise  various  superstitions  to  which  it 
has  given  birth;  in  particular,  what  is  said  by 
Geoffroy  de  Viterlms,  that  there  was  near  it 
another  fountain  called  the  Holy  Virgin,  be- 
cause, they  say,  this  blessed  woman  drew  wa- 
ter from  it  to  wash  the  linen  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  of  her  family.  We  arc  told  also  that  the 
Turks  have  so  great  a  veneration  for  it  as  to 
wash  their  children  in  the  same  water,  and  to 
perform  around  it  various  rituals  of  supersti- 
tion.§  Rut  what  this  tower  was,  and  what  the 
cause  of  its  fall  was,  we  cannot  discover,  nor 
is  it  a  matter  of  any  importance. 

Let  us  make  no  more  vain  ellbrts  to  illustrate 
a  subject,  which  would  be  of  little  advantage, 
though  we  could  place  it  in  the  iiiUest  lustre. 
Let  us  turn  the  whole  of  our  attention  to  what 
is  of  real  utility.  We  have  pro|)osed,  conform- 
ably to  the  text,  to  imiuire,  firnt,  into  the  er- 
roneous light  in  which  men  view  the  judg- 
ments God  inflicts  on  their  own  sjiccies;  and, 
secomUij,  the  real  light  in  which  they  ought  to 
be  considered.  Here  is  in  substance  the  sub- 
ject of  our  discourse.  Mankind  regard  the 
judgments  God  infhcls  on  their  own  species, 
1.  With  a  spirit  of  inditlerence;  but  Jesus  Christ 
would  thereby  excite  in  them  a  disposition  of 

*  Theuda»,  v.  M. 

f  Wan  of  llic  Jews,  lib.  v.  cap.  26. 
i  Ecclc».  Hi»l.  lib.  viii.  cap.  20. 

\  Voiei  Jesuit  Euscbius  Nieremberg  de  Lerrapromis, 
cap.  48. 


thought  and  reflection.  2.  They  regard  thera 
with  a  s])irit  of  blindness;  but  Jesus  Christ 
would  excite  in  them  a  spirit  of  instruction  and 
knowledge.  \i.  They  regard  them  with  a  spirit 
of  rigour  to  others,  and  preference  of  them- 
selves; but  Jesus  Christ  would  excite  in  them 
a  compassionate  and  humble  temper.  4.  They 
regard  with  an  obdurate  spirit;  but  Jesus  Christ 
would  excite  in  them  a  spirit  of  reformation 
and  repentance.  These  are  terms  to  which 
we  must  attach  distinct  ideas,  and  salutary  in- 
structions. If  we  shall  sometimes  recede  from 
the  words  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  shall  be  to  ap- 
proximate ourselves  more  to  the  situation  in 
which  Providence  has  now  placed  us.  And 
if  we  shall  sometimes  recede  from  the  circum- 
stances in  which  Providence  has  now  placed 
us,  it  shall  be  to  approach  the  nearer  to  the 
views  of  Jesus  Christ. 

The  first  characteristic  of  the  erroneous  dis- 
position with  which  we  regard  the  judgments 
God  inflicts  on  other  men,  is  stupor  and  inat- 
tention. I  do  not  absolutely  aflirm,  that  people 
arc  not  at  all  affected  l>y  the  strokes  of  Provi- 
dence. The  apathy  of  the  human  mind  cannot 
extend  quite  so  far.  How  was  it  that  this  un- 
heard-of cruelly  could  scarce  impress  the  mind 
of  those  who  were  present?  Here  are  men  who 
came  up  to  Jerusalem,  who  came  to  celebrate 
the  feast  with  joy,  who  designed  to  ofler  their 
victims  to  God;  but  behold,  they  themselves 
became  the  victims  of  a  tyrant's  fury,  who 
mixed  their  blood  with  that  of  the  beasts  they 
had  just  offered!  Here  are  eighteen  men  em- 
ploj'ed  in  raising  a  tower,  or  perhaps  accident 
ally  standing  near  it;  and  behold,  they  are 
crushed  to  i)ieces  by  its  fall!  Just  so,  wars, 
pestilence,  and  famine,  when  we  are  not  im- 
mediately, or  but  lightly  involved  in  the  ca- 
lamity, make  indeed  a  slight,  though  very 
superficial,  impression  on  the  mind.  We  find, 
at  most,  in  these  events,  but  a  temporary  sub- 
ject of  conversation;  we  recite  them  with  the 
news  of  the  day,  "  There  were  i)resent  at  that 
season,  some  who  told  him  of  the  Galileans;" 
but  we  extend  our  inquiries  no  farther,  and 
never  endeavour  to  trace  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence. There  are  men  who  feel  no  interest 
but  in  what  immediately  affects  themselves, 
provided  their  property  sustain  no  loss  by  the 
calamity  of  others;  jjrovided  their  happiness  flow 
in  its  usual  course;  provided  tlieir  pleasures  are 
not  interrupted,  though  the  greatest  calamities 
be  abroad  in  the  earth,  and  tliough  God  inflict 
before  our  eyes  the  severest  strokes,  to  them, 
it  is  of  no  moment.  Hence  the  first  mark  of 
the  misguided  disposition  with  which  men  re- 
gard the  judgments  of  the  Lord  on  others,  is 
stupor  and  inattention. 

Rut  how  despicable  is  this  disposition!  Does 
one  live  solely  for  one's  self?  Are  men  capa- 
ble of  being  employed  about  nothing  but  their 
own  interests?  Are  they  unable  to  turn  their 
views  to  the  various  bearings  under  which  the 
judgments  of  God  may  be  considered.-  Every 
thing  claims  attention  in  these  messengers  of 
the  divine  vengeance.  The  philosopher  finds 
here  a  subject  of  the  deepest  speculation.  What 
are  those  impenetrable  sjjrings,  moved  of  God, 
which  shake  the  fabric  of  the  world,  and  sud- 
denly convulse  the  face  of  society?  Is  it  the 
cortli,  wearied  of  her  primitive  fertility,  wliich 


Ser.  XCVI.] 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUJIOPE. 


379 


occasions  barrenness  and  famine?  Or,  is  it 
some  new  malediction,  sii])ernaturally  denounc- 
ed by  liim  who  lenders  nature  Iruilful  in  her 
ordinary  course?  Is  it  tiie  exliahitions  from 
tlie  earth  which  cmj)oison  the  air;  or,  arc 
there  some  pernicious  quahtics  formed  in  tlie 
air  wliich  empoison  tiie  earth?  By  what  secret 
of  nature,  or  phenomenon  of  the  Creator,  docs 
the  contagion  pass  with  the  velocity  of  light- 
ning from  one  clime  to  another,  bearing  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind  the  infectious  breath  of  one 
people  to  another?  The  statesman  admires 
here  the  catastrophes  of  states,  and  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  society.  He  admires  how  the  lot  of 
war  in  an  instant  raises  him  who  was  low,  and 
abases  him  who  was  liisrh.     lie  sees  troops 


They  treat  tliose  as  weak-headed,  whom  the 
visitations  of  Heaven  prompt  to  self-examina- 
tion, who  recognise  the  hand  of  God,  and  who 
endeavour  to  jienetrate  his  designs  in  the  afflic- 
tions of  mankind.  More  occu])ied  with  Pilate 
than  with  him  whose  counsel  has  determined 
the  conduct  of  Pilate;  more  occupied  with  poli- 
tics, and  more  att<'ntive  to  nature,  than  to  the 
God  of  nature,  tlicy  refer  all  to  second  causes, 
they  regard  nature  and  politics  as  the  universal 
divinities,  and  the  arbitrators  of  all  events. 
This  is  what  we  call  a  spirit  of  blindness.  And 
as  nothing  can  be  more  o])posite  to  the  design 
of  this  text,  and  the  object  of  this  discourse, 
we  ought  to  attack  it  with  all  our  power,  and 
demonstrate  another  truth  supposed  by  Jesus 


trained  witli  labour,  levied  witli  difliculty,  and    Christ  in  the  text,  not  only  tiuit  God  is  the 


formed  with  fatigue;  he  sees  thcni  destroyed  hy 
a  battle  in  an  hour;  and  what  is  more  awful  still, 
he  sees  them  wasted  by  disease  without  being 
iiblo  to  sell  tlicir  lives,  or  to  dip  their  hands  in 
the  enemies'  blood.  The  dying  man  sees,  in 
the  calamities  of  others,  the  image  of  his  own 
danger.  He  sees  death  armed  at  all  points, 
"and  him  that  hath  the  power  of  death'"*  mov- 
ing at  his  command  the  winds,  the  waves,  the 
tempests,  the  pestilence,  the  famine  and  war. 
The  Christian  here  extending  his  views,  sees 
liow  terrible  it  is  "  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  tiio 
living  God."t  He  adores  that  Providence 
which  directs  all  events,  and  without  whose 
permission  a  hair  cannot  fall  from  the  head: 
he  sees  in  these  calamities  messengers  of  the 
God  "  who  makes  tlanjes  of  fire  his  angels,  and 
winds  his  ministers."];  He  "  hears  the  rod,  and 
who  hath  appointed  it."§  Fearing  to  receive 
the  same  visitations,  he  "  prepares  to  meet  his 
God. "11  He  "enters  his  closet,  and  hides 
himself  till  the  indignation  be  overpast."  He 
saves  himself"  before  the  decree  bring  forth. "IT 
He  cries  as  Israel  once  cried,  "  Wherewith 
shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and  bow  myself 
before  the  high  God?"**  Such  are  the  variety 
of  reflections  and  of  emotions  which  the  calami- 
ties of  Providence  excites  iii  an  enlightened 
mind.  Truths  which  we  proceed  to  develop, 
and  which  we  enumerate  here  solely  to  demon- 
strate the  stupidity  of  this  first  disposition,  and 
to  oppose  it  by  a  spirit  of  recollection  and  seri- 
ousness implied  in  our  Saviour's  answer,  and 
which  lie  was  wishful  to  excite  in  us. 

2.  W^c  have  marked,  in  the  second  place,  a 
spirit  of  blindness,  and  our  wish  to  oppose  it  by 
an  enlightened  and  well-informed  disposition. 
When  we  speak  of  those  who  have  a  spirit  of 
blindness,  we  do  not  mean  men  of  contracted 
minds,  who  having  received  it  from  nature, 
arc  incapable  of  reflection;  men  who  think 
merely  to  adopt  phantoms,  and  who  talk  merely 
to  maintain  absurdities.  We  attack  those  wit- 
lings who  pique  tliemselves  on  a  superiority, 
who,  under  a  preteiice  of  emancij)ating  the  mind 
fron»  error  and  prejudice,  and  of  rising  above 
the  vulgar,  so  immerse  themselves  in  error  and 
prejudice,  as  to  sink  bdmc  the  vulgar.  Persons 
who  have  knowledge  indeed;  but  "  professing 
themselves  to  be  wise,  they  became  fools;"ff 
and  are  so  nuich  the  more  blind,  to  speak  as 
the  Scripture,  "because  they  say,  we  see."JJ 


*  Heb.  ii.  1-1. 
^  Mic.  vi.  9, 
••  Mic.  Ti.  6. 


t  Heb.  X.  31. 
II  Amos  iv.  12. 
tt  Rom.  i.  22. 


}  H.b.  i.  7. 

17  Zc!)li.  ii. 

It  John  IX.  41. 


author  of  all  calamities,  but  that  in  sending 
them,  he  correctly  determines  their  end.  This 
shall  ajjpcar  by  a  fev/  plain  j)roposilions. 

Proposition  first.  Either  nature  is  nothing,  or 
it  is  the  assemblage  of  the  beings  God  has  cre- 
ated; either  the  efTecte  of  n.ature  are  nothing, 
or  they  are  the  products  and  efiects  of  the  laws 
by  which  God  has  artanged,  and  by  which  he 
governs  beings;  consequently,  whatever  we  call 
natural  efiects,  and  the  result  of  second  causes, 
are  the  worli  of  God,  and  the  effects  of  his  es- 
tablished laws.  This  proposition  is  indisputa- 
ble. One  must  be  an  Atheist,  or  an  Epicurean, 
to  revoke  it  in  doubt.  F'or  instance,  when  you 
say  that  an  earthquake  is  a  natural  effect,  and 
that  it  proceeds  from  a  second  cause:  do  you 
know  that  there  are  uiidcr  our  feet  subterra- 
nean caverns,  that  those  caverns  are  filled  with 
combustible  matter,  that  those  substances  ig- 
nite by  friction,'  expand,  and  overturn  what- 
ever obstructs  their  passage?  Here  is  a  natural 
efTect;  here  is  a  second  cause,  liut  I  ask;  who 
has  created  this  earth?  Who  has  formed  those 
creatures  susceptible  of  ignition?  Who  has  es- 
tablished the  laws  of  expansive  force?  You 
must  here  confess,  tliat  either  God,  or  chance 
is  the  author.  If  you  say  chance,  atheism  is 
then  on  the  throne;  Epicurus  triumphs;  the 
fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms  is  established. 
If  you  say  God,  our  proposition  is  proved,  and 
sutHciently  so;  for  those  that  attack  us  here,  are 
not  Atheists  and  ICj)ieureans;  hence,  in  refuting 
them,  it  is  quite  sufKcient  to  prove,  that  thei'r 
principle  tends  to  the  Epicurean  and  the  athe- 
istical system. 

Froposilion  secoM.  God,  in  forming  his 
various  works,  and  in  the  arrangement  of  his 
laws,  knew  every  possible  efiect  which  could 
result  from  them.  If  you  do  not  admit  this 
principle,  you  have  no  notion  of  the  perfect 
Being;  an  infinity  of  events  might  happen  in 
the  world  independent  of  his  pleasure;  he  would 
daily  learn;  he  would  grow  wiser  with  age;  and 
become  learned  by  experience!  These  are  prin- 
ciples which  destroy  themselves,  and  combine 
by  their  contradiction  to  establish  our  second 
proposition,  that  God,  in  creating  his  works, 
and  in  prescribing  the  laws  of  motion,  was  ap- 
prised of  every  possible  effect. 

*  Tbii  was  llie  received  opinion  in  our  author's  time; 
but  modern  observations  attest,  thai  great  masses  of  sul- 
phureous coals  thrown  on  heaps  kindle  spoiilaneously  by 
the  accession  of  air  and  rain.  So  on  the  tailing  of  the 
alum  shell  of  Boulby  cliffs,  the  rain  and  air  caused  the 
mass  to  iguite.     See  SutcUffe's  Geolo'ical  Essays:  ami 


380 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


[Ser.  XCVI. 


Proposition  third.     God,  foreseeing  all  those 
eflbcU,  has  approved  of  ihem,  and  determined 
each  to  an  ai)|)ropriate  end.     It  is  assortablo  to 
the   nature  of  a  wise  J'einij  to  do  nothing  but 
what  is  consonant  to  wisdom,  notlnng  but  what 
is  connected  with  sonjc  design;  and   to  make 
this   tiie   distinguishing   cliaractcristic  of   the 
smallest,  as  well  as  of  the  greatest  works.  Tiie 
wisest  of  men  are  unable  to  follow  this   law, 
because  circumscribed  in  knowledge,  their  at- 
tention is  confined  to  a  narrow  sphere  of  ob- 
jects.    If  a  prince,  wisliful  to  make  his  sub- 
jects happy,  should  endeavour  to  enter  into  all 
the  minutiaî  of  his  kingdom,  he  could  not  at- 
tend to  the  main  design;    and   his   measures 
would  tend  to  retard  his  purpose.     But  God, 
whose  mind  is  infinite,  who  comprises  in  the 
immense  circle  of  his  knowledge  an  infinity  of 
ideas  without  confusion,  is  directed  by  his  wis- 
dom to  propose  the  best  design  in  all  liis  works. 
Consequently  the  works  of  nature   which  he 
has  created,  and  the  effects  of  nature  which 
he  has  foreseen,  all  enter  into  his  eternal  coun- 
sels, and  receive  their  destination.     Hence,  to 
refer  events  to  second  causes,  not  recognising 
the  designated  visitations  of  Providence  by  the 
plague,  by  war,  and  famine;  and  under  a  pre- 
sumption, that  these  proceed  from  the  general 
laws  of  nature,  not  perceiving  the  Author  and 
Lord  of  nature,  is  to  have  a  spirit  of  blindness. 
Moreover,  all    these    arguments,  suggested 
by  sound  reason,  are  established  in  the  clearest 
and  most  indisputable  manner  in  the   Scrip- 
tures, to  which  all  wise  men  should  have  re- 
course to  direct  their  judgment.      Docs  Josepli 
arrive  in   Egypt,  after  being  sold  by  his  bre- 
thren.'    It  WHS  God  that  sent  him  thither,  ac- 
cording to    his   own    testimony,  Gen.   xlv.  5. 
"Be  not  giieved  nor  angry  with  yourselves, 
that  ye  sold  me  hither,  for  God  did  send  me 
before  you  to  preserve  life."  Do  Kings  arrange 
their  counsels.'     "  Their  heart  is  in  the  hands 
of  God:  he  turnelh  them  as  the  rivers  of  wa- 
ter," Prov.  xxi.  1.     Does  .Assyria  afflict  Israël.' 
"  He  is  the  rod  of  God's   anger,"  Isa.   x.  5. 
Do  Herod  and  Pilate  persecute  Jesus  Christ' 
They  do  that  which  God  had  previously  "  de- 
termined  in  counsel,"   Acts  iv.   27.     Does  a 
hair  fall  from  our  head?     It  is  not  without  the 
permission  of  God,  Luke  .\ii.   7.     If  you  re- 
quire particular  proof  that  God  has  designs  in 
chastisements,  and  not  only  with  regard  to  the 
chastised   but  to  those  also* in  whose  presence 
they  are  chastised,  you  have  hut  to  remember 
the  words  at  the  oi)iMiing  of  this  discourse;  "  I 
have  cut  otl"  all  nations,  1  have  made  their  tow- 
ers desolate,  and  said,  Surely  thou  shalt  receive 
instruction;"    you  have    but  to  recollect  the 
words  of  Ezekicl,  "  As  I   live,  saitli  the   Lord, 
smely  because  thou  hast  defiled  my  sanctuary 
with  thy  detestable  things,  a  third  part  of  you 
shall  die  with  the  pe.>ftilence,  and  another  part 
of  you  shall  fall  by  the  sword,  and  a  third  part 
shall  1)0  scattered:  and  thou  shalt  be  a  reproach, 
and   a  taunt,   and   an   instruction,"  K/ek.  v. 
II — 15.     Pay  attention  to  this  word,  "  an  in- 
struction."    My  brethren,  God   has  tlicrefore 
designs,  when  ho  aillicts  other  men  before  our 
eyes;  and  designs  in  regard  to  us;  ho  proposes 
our  ttufntction.     Hence  his  visitations  must  be 
regarded  with  an  enlightened  mind. 


3.  Men  regard  with  a  spirit  of  severity  and 
of  preference,  the  judgments  which  God  in- 
tlicts  on  others;  but  Jesus  Christ  was  wishful  to 
excite  in  tliem  a  disposition  of  tenderness  and 
humiliation;  he  apprises  them,  that  the  most 
afflicted  arc  not  always  the  most  guilty.  So  is 
the  im()ort  of  these  expressions,  "  Suppose  ye 
that  these  Galileans  were  sinners  above  all  the 
Galileans?  Suppose  ye  that  those  eighteen  on 
whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell,  and  killed, 
were  sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jeru- 
salem?    I  tell  you,  nay." 

The  Jews  had  much  need  of  this  caution. 
Many  of  them  regarded  all  the  calamities  of 
life,  as  the  punishment  of  some  sin  committed 
by  the  afflicted.  The  mortifying  comforts  of 
Job's  friends,  and  all  the  rash  judgments  they 
formed  of  his  case,  were  founded  upon  this 
principle:  you  find  likewise  some  of  our  Sa- 
viour's disciples,  on  seeing  a  man  born  blind, 
asking  this  question:  "  Lord,  who  did  sin,  tliis 
man,  or  his  parents,  that  he  was  born  blind?" 
John  ix.  2.  How  could  they  conceive  that  a 
man,  blind  from  his  birth,  could  have  commit- 
ted a  crime  to  superinduce  the  calamity?  This 
corresponds  with  our  assertion:  they  were  per- 
suaded that  all  calamities  were  the  result  of 
some  crime;  and  even  in  this  life,  that  the 
most  calamitous  were  the  most  culpable;  and 
they  even  preferred  the  supposition  of  sins 
committed  in  a  pre-existent  state,  to  the  ideas 
of  visitations  not  preceded  by  crime.  They 
admitted,  for  the  most  part,  the  doctrine  of 
metempsychosis,  and  supposed  the  punishments 
sustained  in  one  body,  weie  the  result  of  sins 
committed  in  other  bodies.  This  sentiment 
the  Jews  of  Alexandria  had  communicated  to 
their  brethren  in  Judea:  but  we  suppress,  on 
this  head,  a  long  detail  of  proofs  from  Philo, 
Josephus,  and  others.*  They  had  also  another 
notion,  that  children  might  have  criminal 
thoughts  while  slumbering  in  the  womb.  It  is 
probable  that  those  who,  in  the  text,  reported 
to  Jesus  Christ  the  unhappy  end  of  the  Gali- 
leans, were  initiated  into  this  opinion.  This  is 
the  spirit  of  severity  and  of  preference  by 
which  we  regard  the  calamities  of  others. 
This  is  what  the  Lord  attacks:  "  Suppose  ye 
that  those  eighteen  on  whom  the  tower  in  Si- 
loam  fell,  were  sinners  above  all  that  dwelt  in 
Jerusalem?  I  tell  you,  nay:  but  except  ye  re- 
pent ye  shall  all  likewise  perish." 

This  is  the  most  afflicted  man  in  all  the 
earth;  therefore  he  is  more  wicked  than  ano- 
ther who  enjoys  a  thousand  comforts.  What 
a  ])itiful  argument! 

To  reason  in  this  way  is  to  "  limit  thelHoly 
One  of  Israel,"  Ps.  Ixxviii.  tl;  and  not  to  re- 
cognise the  diversity  of  designs  an  infinite  In- 
telligence may  propose  in  the  visitations  of 
mankind.  Sometimes  he  is  wishful  to  prove 
thiMn:  "  Now  I  know  that  thou  lovest  me, 
seeing  thou  hast  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine 
only  son,"  Gen.  xxii.  12.  Sometimes  he  de- 
signs to  be  glorified  by  their  deliverance.  Thus 
tlie  opening  of  the  eyes  of  the  man  born  blind 
was  designated,  to  make  manifest  "the  works 
of  God;"  and  the  sickness  of  Lazarus  was  "  to 
glorify  the  Son  of  God."     Sometimes  he  pro- 

*  Philo  on  the  Giant»;  ami  on  Dreamt;  Joseph.  War» 
of  the  Jew»,  book  li.  rap.  12. 


Ser.  XCVI.] 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


381 


poses  to  make  their  faith  conspicuous;  this  was 
the  eaii  of  Job's  aflhclioii. 

To  reason  in  this  way,  is  to  revolt  against 
experience,  and  to  prefer  the  worst  of  sinners 
to  the  best  of  saints.  Herod  who  is  on  tlie 
throne,  to  Jesus  Clirist  who  is  driven  to  exile; 
Nero  who  sways  the  world,  to  St.  Paul  who  is 
reckoned  "  the  filth  and  olVscourinij  of  the 
earth." 

To  reason  in  this  way,  is  to  disallow  the  tur- 
pitude of  crime.  If  God  sometimes  defer  to 
punish  it  on  earth,  it  is  because  the  punish- 
ments of  this  life  aro  inadequate  to  the  enor- 
mity of  sin. 

To  reason  in  this  way,  is  to  bo  inattentive 
to  the  final  judgment  wliich  God  is  preparinir. 
If  this  life  were  eternal;  if  tiiis  were  our  j)rin- 
cipal  period  of  existence,  the  argument  would 
have  some  colour.  But  if  there  be  a  life  after 
death;  if  this  be  but  a  shadow  which  vanishes 
away;  if  tliere  be  a  precise  time  when  virtue 
shall  be  lecompensod,  and  vice  punished, 
which  wo  cannot  dispute  without  subverting 
the  principles  of  religion,  and  of  reason,  then 
this  conjecture  is  unfounded. 

To  reason  in  this  way,  is  to  be  ignorant  of 
the  value  of  achetions.  They  are  one  of  the 
most  fertile  sources  of  virtue,  and  the  most 
successful  means  of  inducing  us  to  comply 
with  the  design  of  the  gospel.  If  the  calami- 
ties which  mortals  suHer  in  tliis  life  were  al- 
lowed to  form  a  prejudice,  it  should  rather  be 
in  favour  of  God's  love,  than  of  his  anger:  and 
instead  of  saying,  this  man  being  atllicted,  he 
is  consequently  more  guilty  than  he  who  is  not 
afflicted,  we  should  ratiicr  say,  this  man  Jiav- 
ing  no  affliction,  is,  in  fact,  a  greater  sinner 
than  the  oilier  who  is  afflicted. 

In  general,  there  are  few  wicked    men  to 
whom  the  best  of  saints,  in  a  comparative  view, 
have  tlie  right  of  preference.     In  the  life  of 
a  criminal,  you  know  at  most  but   a  certain 
number  of  his  crimes;  but  you  see  an  infinite 
number  in  your  own.     Comparing  yourselves 
with  an  assassin  about  to  he  broken  on  the 
wheel,  you  would  no  doubt  find  a  preference 
in  this  point.     But  extend  your  thoughts;  re- 
view the  history  of  your  life;  investigate  your 
heart;  examine  those  vain  thoughts,  those  irre- 
gular desires,  those  secret  jiraclices,  of  which 
God  alone  is  witness;  and  then  judge  of  vice 
and  virtue,  not  by  the  notions  that  men  form 
of  them,  but  by  the  portrait  exhibited  in  God's 
law;    consider   that    anger,    envy,   pride    and 
calumny,  carried  to  a  certain  degree,  are  more 
odious  in  the  eyes  of  God,  than  those  noto- 
rious crimes  punished  by  human  justice;  and 
on  investigating  the  life  of  a  criminal,  you  will 
bo   obliged  to   confess   that   there   is  nothino- 
more  revolting  than  what  is  found  in  your  own. 
Besides,  a  good  man  is  so  impressed  with  his 
own  faults,  that  tlie  sentiment  extenuates  in 
his  estimation  the  defects  of  others.     This  was 
the  sentiment  of  St.  Paul:  "  I  am  the  chief  of 
sinners;  but  I  obtained  mercy."     This  was  his 
injunction;    "  In  lowliness  of  mind,   let  each 
esteem  another  better  than  himself,"  Piiil.  ii.  5; 
1  Tim.  i.  13.     But  is  this  avowal  founded  on 
fact'     Is   the  maxim   practicable?     It   is,   my 
brethren,  in  the  sense  we  have  just  laid  down. 
But  the  Jews,  whom  our  Saviour  addressed, 
had  no  need  of  those  solutions:  their  lives  real- 


ized his  assertions;  and  would  to  God  that  ours, 
com|)ared  with  tlie  multitude  of  victims  whicii 
this  day  cover  the  curlh,  might  not  suggest  the 
same  reflection.'  "  Su|)po8c  ye  tiiat  these  Gali- 
leans were  sinners  above  all  the  Galileans.' 
Suppose  ye  that  those  eighteen  were  sinners 
above  all  the  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem.'" 
Uo  you  sujipose  that  those  whose  dead  bodies 
are  now  slrewed  over  Europe?  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  the  peojile  assailed  with  famine,  and 
those  exempt  from  famine,  but  menaced  with 
the  plague  and  pestilence,  are  greater  sinners 
than  the  rest  of  the  world?  "I  tell  you,  nay." 
IV.  Lastly:  mankind  regard  the  judgments 
which  God  obviously  inflicts  on  others  with  an 
obdurate  disposition;  but  Jesus  Christ  is  wish- 
ful to  reclaim  them  by  a  spirit  of  reformation 
and  repentance.  This  is  the  design  of  his  in- 
ference, which  is  twice  rejjeated;  "Except  ye 
rejient,  ye  sliall  all  likevyise  perish." 

One  of  the  designs  God  proposed  in  permit- 
ting the  cruelty  of  Pilate  to  those  Galileans, 
and  the  fall  of  the  tower  of  Siloam  on  eigh- 
teen of  the  inhaiiitants  of  Jerusalem,  was  to 
give  others  an  idea  of  the  punishment  which 
awaited  themselves,  in  case  they  should  persist 
in  sin,  and  tiiereby  of  exciting  them  to  repent- 
ance. He  has  now  the  same  designs  in  regard 
to  us,  while  afflicting  Europe  bcfure  our  eyes. 
That  this  was  his  design  with  regard  to  the 
Jews,  we  have  a  proof  beyond  all  exception, 
and  that  proof  is  experience.  The  sentence 
pronounced  against  that  unhappy  nation;  "  Ex- 
cept ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish," 
was  literally  executed,  and  in  detail.  Yes, 
literally  did  the  Jewish  nation  perish  as  the 
Galileans,  whose  blood  Pilate  mingled  with 
their  sacrifices,  and  as  the  others  on  whom  the 
tower  of  Siloam  fell. 

Read  what  happened  under  Archelaus,  on 
the  day  of  the  passover.  The  people  were  as- 
sembled from  all  parts,  and  thought  of  nothing 
but  of  offering  their  sacrifices.  Archelaus  sur- 
rounded Jerusalem,  placed  his  cavalry  without 
the  city,  caused  his  infantry  to  enter,  and  to 
defile  the  temple  with  the  blood  of  three  thou- 
sand persons.* 

Head  the  sanguinary  conduct  of  those  cruel 
assassins,  who  in  open  day,  and  during  their 
most  solemn  festival  in  particular,  caused  the 
etlects  of  their  fury  to  be  felt,  and  mingled  hu- 
man gore  with  that  of  the  animals  slain  in  the 
temple. 

Read  tlie  furious  battle  fought  by  the  zeal- 
ots in  the  same  temple,  where  without  fear  of 
defiling  the  sanctity  of  religion,  to  use  the  ex- 
pression of  the  Jewish  historian,  "they  defiled 
the  sacred  place  with  their  impure  blood. "f 

Read  the  pathetic  description  of  the  same 
historian  concerning  the  factions  who  held 
their  sittings  in  tlie  temple.  "  Their  revenge," 
he  says,  "extended  to  the  altar;  they  massa- 
cred the  priests  with  tliose  that  otiered  sacri- 
fices. Men  who  came  from  the  extremities  of 
the  earth  to  worship  God  in  his  holy  place,  fell 
down  slain  with  tlieir  victims,  and  sprinkled 
their  blood  on  the  altar,  revered,  not  only  by 
the  Greeks,  but  by  the  most  barbarous  nations. 
The  blood  was  seen  to  flow  as  rivers;  and  the 


*  Joseph.  Antjq.  lib.  xvii.  cap.  11. 

\  Joseph.  Wars  of  the  Jews,  book  iv.  chap.  14. 


382 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


[Ser.  XCVI. 


dead  bodies,  not  only  of  natives,  but  of  stran- 
gers, filled  this  holy  place."* 

Head  the  whole  history  of  that  siege,  ren- 
dered for  ever  memorable  by  tiie  multitude  of 
its  calamities.  See  Jerusalem  swimming  with 
blood,  and  entombed  in  its  own  ashes.  Mark 
how  it  was  besieged,  precisely  at  the  time  of 
their  most  solemn  festival,  wiien  the  Jews  were 
assembled  from  all  parts  of  tlie  world  to  cele- 
brate their  passover.  See  how  the  blood  of 
eleven  hundred  thousand  persons  was  mingled 
witii  their  sacrifices,  and  justified  tiie  e.xpres- 
sion  in  the  text,  "  Su])pose  ye  that  tiiese  Gali- 
leans were  more  culpable?  I  tell  you,  nay;  but 
except  ye  repent,  yo  sliall  all  likewise  perish." 
See  how  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  in  tlie  same 
siege,  sapped  by  the  Iloman  ram,  and  by 
a  thousand  engines  of  war,  fell  down  and  bu- 
ried the  citizens  in  their  ruins,  literally  accom- 
plishing this  other  part  of  tlie  prophecy;  "  Sup- 
pose ye,  that  those  eighteen  on  vviioni  the  tow- 
er of  Siloam  fell,  were  sinners  above  all  that 
dwelt  in  Jerusalem;  I  tell  you,  nay;  but  except 
ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish." 

God  has  the  same  designs  in  regard  to  us, 
while  afllicting  Europe  before  our  eyes.  This 
is  the  point  at  which  we  must  now  stop.  We 
mast  leave  tiie  Jews,  from  whom  the  means 
of  conversion  were  ultimately  removed,  to  pro- 
fit by  their  awful  example;  and  especially,  from 
the  consideration  of  their  impenitency,to  derive 
the  most  serious  motives  for  our  own  conversion. 
CONCLUSION. 
There  is  then  so  perfect  a  conformity  be- 
tween us,  my  brethren,  and  those  who  came 
to  report  to  Jesus  Christ  the  calamity  of  the 
poor  Galileans,  that  one  must  be  wilfully  blind 
not  to  perceive  it.  1.  The  Jews  had  just  seen 
examples  of  the  divine  vengeance,  and  we  also 
have  lately  seen  them.  2.  The  Jews  had  been 
spared,  and  we  also  are  spared.  3.  Tlie  Jews 
were  likewise  as  great  offenders  as  those 
that  had  fallen  under  the  strokes  of  God; 
and  we  are  as  great  offenders  as  those  that 
now  suffer  before  our  eyes.  4.  The  Jews 
were  taught  by  Jesus  Ciirist  what  disposition 
of  mind  they  should  in  future  assume;  and  we 
are  equally  instructed.  5.  Those  Jews  har- 
dened their  hearts  against  his  warning,  and 
were  ultimately  destroyed;  (O  God,  avert  tiiis 
awful  augur!)  wc  harden  our  hearts  in  like 
manner,  and  we  shall  experience  the  same  lot, 
if  we  continue  in  tlie  same  state. 

1.  We  ourselves,  like  the  Jews  who  were 
present  at  that  bloody  scene,  have  seen  exam- 
ples of  the  divine  vengeance.  Europe  is  now 
an  instructive  theatre,  and  i)ospangled  with 
tragic  scenes.  The  destroying  angel,  armed 
with  the  awful  sword  of  celestial  vengeance, 
goes  forth  on  our  right  hand,  and  on  our  left, 
distinguishing  his  route  by  carnage  and  horror. 
"The  sword,  of  the  Lord  intoxicated  with 
blood,"  .Jcr.  xlvii.  6,  refuses  to  return  to  its 
scabbard,  and  seems  wishful  to  make  the  whole 
earth  a  vjlsI  sejjulchre.  Our  Europe  has  often 
been  visited  with  severe  strokes;  but  I  know 
not  whether  history  records  a  i)oriod  in  which 
they  were  so  severe,  and  so  general.  God 
once  proposed  to  David  a  terrible  choice  of 
pestilence,  of  war,  or  of  famine.   The  best  was 

*  Joseph.  Wart  of  the  Jcwa,  hook  v. 


awful.  But  now  God  does  not  propose;  he  in- 
flicts them.  He  does  not  propose  any  one  of 
three;  he  inflicts  the  whole  at  once.  On  what 
side  can  you  cast  your  regards,  and  not  be  pre- 
sented with  the  like  objects.'  To  what  voice 
can  you  hearken  which  does  not  say,  "Except 
ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.'"  Hear 
the  people  whose  unhappy  countries  have  for 
many  years  become  the  theatre  of  v/ar;  who 
hear  of  nothing  "  but  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars,"  who  see  their  harvest  cut  down  before 
it  is  ripe,  and  the  hopes  of  the  year  dissipated 
in  a  moment.  These  are  instructive  exam- 
j)les;  tlicse  are  loud  calls,  which  say,  "  Except 
ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish."  Hear 
those  people  over  whose  heads  the  heavens  are 
as  brass,  and  under  whose  feet  the  earth  is 
as  iron,  who  are  consumed  by  scarcity  and 
drought:  these  arc  instructive  examples;  tliese 
are  loud  calls  which  say,  "  except  ye  repent, 
ye  shall  all  likewise  perish."  Hear  those  peo- 
ple among  whom  death  enters  with  the  air 
they  breathe,  who  see  fill  down  before  their 
eyes,  here  an  iiifmt,  and  there  a  husl)and,  and 
who  expect  every  moment  to  follow  them. 
These  are  awful  examples;  these  are  loud 
calls,  which  say,  "  Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall 
all  likewise  perish."  Thus  our  first  parallel  is 
correct;  we,  like  the  Jews,  have  seen  examples 
of  the  divine  vengeance. 

2.  We,  like  the  Jews,  are  still  spared;  and 
whatever  part  we  may  have  hitherto  had  in 
the  calamities  of  Eurojie,  thank  God,  we  have 
not  fallen.  "  He  has  covered  us  with  his  fea- 
thers, and  given  us  refuge  under  his  wings." 
We  have  not  been  struck  with  "  terror  by 
night,"  nor  with  "  the  arrow  that  flieth  by 
day,"  nor  witii  "  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in 
darkness,"  nor,  "  with  the  destruction  that 
wasteth  at  noon-day.  A  thousand  have  fallen 
at  our  side,  and  ten  thousand  on  our  right 
hand;  but  the  destruction  has  not  come  nigh 
to  us,"  Ps.  xci.  4 — 7.  Our  days  of  mourning 
and  of  fasting  have  ever  been  alleviated  with 
jo}-;  and  this  discourse  which  recalls  so  many 
gloomy  thoughts,  excites  recollections  of  com- 
fort. The  prayers  addressed  to  Heaven  for  so 
many  unhappy  mortals  precipitated  to  peril, 
are  enlivened  with  the  voice  of  praise,  inas- 
much as  we  are  still  exempt  Irom  the  scourge. 
We  weep  between  tlie  porch  and  the  altar, 
with  joy  and  with  grief  at  tiie  same  instant; 
with  grief,  from  a  conviction  that  our  sins 
have  excited  the  anger  of  God  against  Europe; 
with  joy  because  his  fury  has  not  as  yet  ex- 
tended to  ns;  and  if  wo  say,  with  a  contrite 
heart,  "  O  Lord,  righteousness  belongeth  unto 
thee;  but  unto  us  confusion  of  face:  O  Lord, 
enter  not  into  judgment  with  thy  servants:  O 
Lord,  |)ardon  the  iniquity  of  thy  people,"  we 
shall  make  these  walls  resound  with  our 
thanksgiving.  Wc  shall  say  with  Hezekiah, 
"  A  great  bitterness  is  come  upon  me,  but  thou 
hast  in  love  to  my  soul  delivered  it  from  the 
pit  of  corruption."  \Vc  shall  say,  with  the 
prophet  Jonah,  "  Thy  billows  and  thy  waves 
liave  passed  over  me;  tlien  I  said  I  am  cast  out 
of  thy  sight;  yet  1  will  look  again  towards  thy 
holy  temple;  and  with  Jeremiah,  "  It  is  of  the 
Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,  and 
because  his  com|)assions  fail  not:  they  are  new 
every  morning."   Our  second  parallel  is  there- 


Ser.  XCVI.] 


THE  CALAMITIES  OF  EUROPE. 


383 


foro  correct;  wo  liko  the  Jews,  are  still  spared. 
Dan.  ix.  7;  Joel  ii.  17;  Isa.  xxxviii.  17;  Jonah 
ii.  3;  Lam.  iii.  22,  23. 

3.  Like  the  Jews,  wo  are  not  less  guilty 
than  those  who  fall  heforo  our  eyes  under  the 
judgments  of  God.     What  a  revolting  propo- 
sition, you  will  say?     What!  the  men  wiioso 
hands  were  so  often  dipped  in  the  most  inno- 
cent blood,  the  men  who  used  their  utmost  ef- 
forts to  extinguish  the  lamp  of  tnitli,  tiie  men 
who  arc  reiulcred   fur  ever  infiinous   iiy  tlic 
death  of  so  many  martyrs,  arc  they  to  bo  com- 
pared to  us?     Can  wo  say  of  their  calamities, 
what  the  l^ord  said  to  the  Jews  concerning 
the  calamities  named  in  the  text,  "  Think  ye 
ihat   these   Galileans  were   sinners   above  all 
Galileans?     Think  ye  tliat  those  eighteen  on 
whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell,  were  sinners 
above  all  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem?     1  tell  you, 
nay."     We  would  wish  you,  my  brethren,  to 
have  as  much  patience  in  attending  to  the  pa- 
rallel, as  wo  have  had  ground  for  drawing  it. 
Who  then,  in  your  opinion,  is  tho  greater  sin- 
ner, ho  who  opposes  a  religion  ho  believes  to 
be  bad,  or  he  who  gives  liimself  no  sort  of 
concern  to  cherish  and  extend  a  religion  he 
believes  to  be  good?     lie,  who  for  the  sake  of 
his  religion  sacrifices  tho  goods,  tho  liberty,  and 
the  lives  of  those  that  oppose  it,  or  ho  who  sa- 
crifices his  religion  to  iiuman  hopes,  to  a  sordid 
interest,  and  to   a   prudence   purely  worldly? 
He  who  enters  with  a  lever  and  a  hatchet  into 
houses  he  believes  profane,  or  he  who  feels  but 
languor  and  inditlerence  wiien  called  upon  to 
revive  the  ashes  he  accounts  holy,  and  to  raise 
the  foundations  he  believes  sacred?     A  glance 
on  tho  tliird  parallel  is,  I  ])resumc,  sufficient  to 
induce  you  to  acknowledge  its  propriety. 

Amid  so  many  dissipations,  and  this  is  the 
fourth  point  of  similarity,  Jesus  Christ  still 
teaches  us  the  same  lessons  he  once  taught  the 
Jews.  He  renders  us  attentive  to  I'rovidence. 
He  proves  that  we  are  concerned  in  those 
events.  He  opens  our  eyes  to  the  war,  the 
pestilence,  and  famine,  by  which  we  are  me- 
naced. He  exhibits  the  example  of  tho  multi- 
tude who  fall  under  those  calamities.  He  says, 
"  surely  thou  shall  receive  instruction."  He 
avers  that  the  same  lot  awaits  us.  He  speaks, 
ho  presses,  ho  urges.  "  Ho  hews  us  by  his 
prophets,  and  slays  us  by  his  word,"  to  use  an 
expression  of  Hosea,  vi.  5.  To  all  tiieso  traits, 
our  situation  perfectly  coincides.  What  then 
can  obstruct  our  application  of  the  latter,  "  E.x- 
cept  ye  repent,  ye  siiall  all  likewise  perish." 

And  shall  events  so  bloody  leave  no  impres- 
sion on  your  mind?  "  Ye  shall  all  likewise 
perish?"  What  would  your  situation  be,  if 
this  prophecy  were  about  to  bo  acccomplished? 
If  our  lot  were  about  to  bo  hko  that  of  tho 
Galileans?  If  on  a  fast-day,  a  sacramental 
day,  a  day  in  which  our  pcoi)le  hold  an  extra- 
ordinary assembly,  a  cruel  and  ferocious  sol- 
diery, with  rage  in  their  hearts,  with  fury  in 
their  eyes,  and  murderous  weapons  in  their 
hands,  should  rush  and  confound  our  devotion 
with  carnage,  sacrificing  the  fatlier  before  the 
eyes  of  the  son,  and  the  son  before  the  eyes  of 
the  father,  and  make  this  church  swim  with 
tho  blood  of  the  worshippers?  What  would 
your  situation  be,  if  the  foundations  of  this 
church  were  about  to  be  shook  under  our  feet, 


if  these  walls  which  surround  us  were  about 
to  fall,  and  to  make  us  liko  llu  eighteen  on 
whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell?  And  what  would 
our  situation  be,  if  the  curses  on  those  ancient 
pcoj)lo,  and  which  are  this  day  accomplished 
in  so  many  parts  of  Euroi)c,  should  fall  upon 
us?  "  Tho  Lord  shall  make  the  ]>cstiIcnco 
cleave  unto  thee,  until  he  consume  thee  from 
ort'  tho  land.  The  heaven  that  is  over  thy 
head  shall  be  brass,  and  the  earth  that  is  under 
thcc  shall  be  iron.  The  Lord  shall  cause  thee 
to  be  smitten  before  thine  enemies.  And  be- 
cause thou  servedst  not  tho  Lord  thy  God  with 
joyfulness  and  with  gladness  of  heart,  thou 
shalt  serve  in  hunger,  in  thirst,  in  nakedness, 
and  in  want,  an  enemy  which  shall  put  a  yoke 
upon  thy  nock,  until  he  have  destroyed  thee. 
And  thou  shalt  eat  the  fruit  of  thine  own  body, 
the  tlcsh  of  thy  sons  and  of  thy  daughters 
which  the  Lord  thy  God  shall  give  thee," 
Dcut.  xxviii.  21.  23.  25.  47,  48.  53. 

My  brethren,  let  us  not  contend  with  God, 
let  us  not  arm  ourselves  with  an  infatuated 
fortitude.  Instead  of  braving  tho  justice  of 
God,  lot  us  endeavour  to  appease  it,  by  a 
s|ieedy  recourse  to  his  mercy,  and  by  a  genuine 
change  of  conduct. 

This  is  the  duty  imposed  on  this  nation;  this 
is  the  work  of  all  tho  faithful  assembled  here, 
liut  permit  me  to  say  it,  with  all  the  respect 
of  a  subject  who  addresses  his  masters,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  with  all  the  frankness  of  a  mi- 
nister of  the  gospel  who  addresses  the  subjects 
of  the  King  of  kings,  this  is  peculiarly  your 
work,  high  and  mighty  lords  of  these  provinces, 
fathers  of  this  people.  In  vain  do  you  adopt 
the  measures  of  prudence  to  avert  the  calami- 
ties with  which  we  are  tlireatened,  unless  you 
endeavour  to  purge  the  city  of  God  of  the 
crimes  which  attract  them.  The  languishing 
church  extends  to  you  her  arms.  The  minis- 
try, rendered  useless  by  the  profligacy  of  the 
ago,  has  need  of  your  influence  to  maintain  it- 
self, and  to  be  exercised  with  success;  to  put  a 
period  to  tlie  horrible  profanation  of  the  sab- 
bath, which  has  so  long  and  so  justly  become 
our  reproach;  to  suppress  those  scandalous 
})ublications  which  are  ushered  with  insolence, 
and  by  which  are  erected  before  your  eyes, 
with  impunity,  a  system  of  atheism  and  irreli- 
gion; to  punisli  the  blaspliemers;  and  thus  to 
revive  tho  enlightened  laws  of  Constantine  and 
Theodosius. 

If  in  this  manner,  we  shall  correspond  with 
the  designs  of  God  in  the  present  chastise- 
ments of  men,  he  will  continue  to  protect  and 
defend  us.  He  will  dissijxite  the  tempests 
ready  to  burst  on  our  heads.  He  will  confirm 
to  us  the  truth  of  that  promise  ho  once  made 
to  the  Jews  by  the  ministry  of  Jeremiah;  "  At 
what  instant  I  sliall  speak  concerning  a  nation 
— to  pull  down  and  to  destroy  it — If  that  na- 
tion turn  from  their  evil,  I  will  repent  of  the 
evil  I  thought  to  do  unto  them,"  xviii.  7,  8. 
In  a  word,  after  having  rendered  our  own  life 
happy,  and  society  tranquil,  he  will  exalt  us 
above  all  clouds  and  tempests,  to  those  happier 
regions,  where  there  shall  be  "  no  more  sor- 
row, nor  crying,  nor  pain;"  and  where  "all 
tears  shall  be  for  ever  wiped  from  our  eyes." 
Rev.  vii.  17;  xxi.  4.  God  grant  us  the  grace: 
to  whom  bo  honour  and  glory  for  .ever.  Amen. 


384 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


[Ser.  xcvn. 


SERMON  XCVII. 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


Psalm  Ixiii.  5,  C. 
My  soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  willi  marrow  and  fat- 
ness, and  mtj  moiUk  skall  praise  thee  with  joyful 
lips:  when  1  remember  thee  upon  my  bed,  and 
meditate  upon  thee  in  the  night-iratches. 
It  is  a  felicity  to  be  accinainted  with  the  ar- 
guments which  forcibly  attach  us  to  religion. 
It  is  a  great  advantage  to  be  able  to  arrange, 
with  conclusive  propriety,  the  arguments  which 
render  virtue  preferable  to  vice.     It  is  a  high 
favour  to  be  able  to  proceed  from  principle  to 
principle,  and  from  consequence  to  consequence, 
so  as  to  say  in  one's  own  breast,  with  a  conscious 
mind  of  tlie  excellence  of  piety,  I  am  persuaded 
that  a  good  man  is  happy. 

But  how  sublime  soever  this  way  of  soaring 
to  God  may  be,  it  is  not  always  sufficient.  Ar- 
guments may  indeed  impose  silence  on  the  pas- 
sions; but  they  are  not  always  sufficiently  co- 
gent to  eradicate  them.  However  conclusive 
demonstrations  may  be  in  a  book,  in  a  school, 
in  the  closet,  they  appear  extremely  weak,  and 
of  very  inadequate  force,  when  opposed  to  sen- 
timents of  anguish,  or  to  the  attractions  of  plea- 
sure. The  arguments  adduced  to  sutter  for  re- 
ligion, lose  much  of  their  eiticacy,  not  to  say  of 
their  evidence,  when  proposed  to  a  man  about 
to  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel,  or  consumed 
on  a  pile.  The  arguments  for  resisting  the  flesh; 
for  rising  superior  to  matter  and  sense,  vanish, 
for  the  most  part,  on  viewing  the  objects  of  con- 
cupiscence. How  worthy  then  is  that  man  of 
pity  who  knows  no  way  of  approaching  God, 
but  that  of  discussion  and  argument! 

There  is  one  way  of  leading  us  to  God  much 
more  safe;  and  of  inducing  to  abide  in  fellowship 
with  him,  whenever  it  is  embraced;  that  is,  the 
way  of  taste  and  of  sentiment.  Hai)py  the  man, 
who,  in  the  conflicts  to  which  ho  is  exposed  from 
the  enemy  of  his  soul,  can  oppose  pleasure  to 
pleasure,  and  joy  to  joy;  the  pleasures  of  piety 
and  of  converse  with  Heaven  to  the  pleasure  of 
the  world;  the  delights  of  recollection  and  soli- 
tude to  those  of  brilliant  circles,  of  dissipations, 
and  of  theatres!  Such  a  man  is  firm  in  his  duty, 
because  he  is  a  man;  and  because  it  depends  not 
on  man  to  refuse  atVection  to  what  opens  to  his 
soul  the  fountains  of  life.  Such  a  man  is  at- 
tached to  religion  by  the  same  motives  which 
attach  the  world  to  the  objects  of  their  passions, 
which  afford  them  exquisite  delight.  Such  a 
man  has  su|)porl  in  tiie  time  of  temptation,  be- 
cause "  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  un- 
derstanding, keeps,"  so  to  sjieak,  the  propensi- 
ties of  his  heart,  and  the  divine  comforts  which 
inundate  his  soul,  obstructs  his  being  drawn 
away  to  sin. 

Let  us  attend  to-day  to  a  great  master  in  the 
science  of  salvation.  It  is  our  prophet.  He 
knew  the  arcjumentative  way  of  coming  to  God. 
"Thy  word,"'  said  he  to  himself,  " is  a  lamp 
unto  my  foct,  and  a  lantern  to  my  paths,"  I's. 
cxix.  lO.T.  Hut  he  knew  also  the  way  of  taste 
and  of  sentimoiil.  Me  said  to  Cînd  in  the  words 
of  ray  text,  yot  only  that  he  was  persuaded  and 


convinced;  but  that  religion  charmed,  ravished, 
and  absorbed  his  soul  by  its  comforts.  "  My 
soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and  fat- 
ness, and  my  soul  shall  praise  thee  with  joyful 
lips;  when  I  remember  thee  upon  my  bed,  and 
meditate  upon  thee  in  the  night-watches." — In 
discussing  the  subject, 

I.  We  shall  trace  the  emotions  of  our  pro- 
phet, and  to  give  you  the  ideas,  if  it  be  possible 
to  give  them,  of  what  we  understand  by  the 
piety  of  taste  and  sentiment. 

II.  We  shall  consider  the  words  with  regard 
to  the  humiliation  they  reflect  on  the  most  part 
of  Christians;  and  inquire  into  the  judgment 
we  ought  to  form  of  our  own  state,  when  des- 
titute of  the  piety  of  sentiment  and  taste,  so 
consoling  to  a  regenerate  soul. 

in.  We  shall  investigate  the  cause  of  this 
calamity. 

IV.  We  shall  propose  some  maxims  for  the 
acquisition  of  this  piety,  the  want  of  which  is 
so  deplorable;  and  to  enable  you  to  say  with 
David,  "  My  soul  shall  bo  satisfied  as  with 
marrow  and  fatness,  and  my  soul  shall  praise 
thee  with  joyful  lips,  when  I  remember  thee 
upon  my  bed,  and  meditate  upon  thee  in  the 
night-watches." 

I.  We  must  define  what  we  understand  by 
the  piety  of  taste  and  sentiment.  Wishful  to 
compress  the  subject,  we  shall  not  oppose  pro- 
fanation to  eminent  piety,  nor  apparent  piety 
to  that  which  is  genuine.  We  shall  oppose  re- 
ality to  reality;  true  piety  to  true  piety;  and  the 
religion  of  the  heart  to  that  which  is  rational 
and  argumentative.  A  few  examples,  derived 
from  human  life,  will  illustrate  this  article  of 
religion. 

Suppose  two  pupils  of  a  philosopher,  both 
emulous  to  make  a  proficiency  in  science;  both 
attentive  to  the  maxims  of  their  master;  both 
surmounting  the  greatest  difliculties  to  retain  a 
permanent  impression  of  what  they  hear.  But 
the  one  finds  study  a  fatigue  like  the  man  tot- 
tering under  a  burden:  to  him  study  is  a  severe 
and  arduous  task:  he  hears  because  he  is  obliged 
to  hear  what  is  dictated.  The  other,  on  the 
contrary,  enters  into  the  spirit  of  study;  its 
pains  are  compensated  by  its  pleasures:  he  loves 
truth  for  the  sake  of  truth;  and  not  for  the  sake 
of  the  encomiums  conferred  on  literary  charac- 
ters, and  the  preceptors  of  science. 

Take  another  example.  The  case  of  two 
warriors,  both  loyal  to  their  sovereign;  both 
alert  and  vigilant  in  military  discipline,  which, 
of  all  others,  requires  the  greatest  vigilance  and 
precision;  both  ready  to  sacrifice  life  when  duty 
shall  so  require;  but  the  one  groans  under  the 
heavy  fatigues  he  endures,  and  sighs  for  repose: 
his  imagination  is  struck  with  the  danger  to 
which  he  is  exposed  by  his  honour:  he  braves 
dangers,  because  he  is  obliged  to  brave  them, 
and  because  God  will  require  an  account  of 
the  public  safety  of  those  who  may  have  had 
the  baseness  to  sacrifice  it  to  personal  preserva- 
tion: yet  amid  triumphs  he  envies  the  lot  of 
tlie  cottager,  who  having  held  the  plough  by 
day,  finds  the  rewards  at  night  of  domestic  re- 
pose. The  other,  on  the  contrary,  is  born  with 
an  insatiable  thirst  of  glory,  to  which  nothing 
can  be  arduous:  lie  h:\s  by  nature,  that  noble 
courage,  shall  1  call  it,  or  that  happy  temerity; 
that  amid  the  greatest  danger,  ho  sees  no  don- 


Ser.  XCVII.] 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


385 


ger;  victory  is  ever  before  his  eyes;  and  every 
step  tliat  leads  to  conquest  is  regarded  as  a  vic- 
tory already  obtained. 

These  examples  are  more  than  sufficient  to 
confirm  your  ideas,  and  make  you  perceive  the 
vast  distinction  we  make  between  a  speculative 
and  an  experimental  piety,  and  to  enable  you 
in  some  sort  to  trace  the  sentiments  of  our  pro- 
phet, "  My  soul  sliall  be  satisfied  as  with  mar- 
row and  fatness,  and  my  soul  shall  praise  thee 
with  joyful  li|)s;  when  I  remember  thee  upon 
my  bed,  and  meditate  upon  thee  in  the  niglit- 
watches."  He  who  has  a  rational  and  a  spe- 
culative piet}',  and  he  who  has  a  piety  of  taste 
and  sentiment,  are  both  sincere  in  their  ellbrts; 
both  devoted  to  their  duty;  both  pure  in  pur- 
pose; botii  in  some  sort  pleasing-  to  God;  and 
both  alike  en<fat>;ed  in  studying  his  precepts, 
and  in  reducinir  tliem  to  practice;  but  O,  how 
different  is  their  state! 

The  one  prays  because  he  is  awed  by  his 
wants,  and  because  prayer  is  the  resource  of 
the  wretched.  The  other  praj's  because  the 
exercise  of  prayer  transports  him  to  another 
world;  because  it  vanishes  the  objects  which 
obstruct  his  divine  reflections;  and  because  it 
strengthens  those  ties  which  unite  him  to  that 
God,  whose  love  constitutes  all  his  consolation, 
and  all  his  treasure. 

The  one  reads  the  word  of  God  because  his 
heart  would  reproach  him  for  neglecting  a  duty 
so  strongly  enjoined,  and  becaiîse  without  the 
Bible  he  would  be  embarrassed  at  every  step. 
The  other  reads  because  his  heart  burns  when- 
ever the  Scriptures  are  opened;  and  because 
this  word  composes  his  mind,  assuages  his  an- 
guish, and  beguiles  his  care. 

The  one  gives  alms,  because  the  doors  of 
heaven  shall  be  shut  against  the  unpitiable;  be- 
cause without  alms  there  is  no  religion;  because 
Jesus  Christ  shall  one  day  say  to  those  who 
have  been  insensible  to  the  wants  of  others, 
"  Depart  ye  cursed  into  everlasting  fire,  for  I  was 
hungry,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat;"  and  be- 
cause the  rust  of  the  gold  and  silver  of  "  the 
covetous  shall  be  a  witness  against  them,  and 
shall  eat  their  flesh  as  a  fire,"  Matt.  xxv.  41; 
James  v.  3.  The  other  gives  because  there  is 
a  kind  of  instinct  and  mechanical  impulse,  if 
you  will  excuse  the  phrase,  which  excite  in  his 
breast  the  most  delicious  sensations  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  alms:  he  gives  because  his  soul  is 
formed  on  the  model  of  that  God,  whose  cha- 
racter is  love,  "  who  left  not  himself  without 
witness,  in  that  he  did  good,"  and  whose  hap- 
piness consists  in  the  power  of  imparting  that 
felicity  to  others. 

The  one  approaches  the  Lord's  table,  because 
the  supreme  wisdom  has  enjoined  it;  he  sub- 
dues his  passions  because  the  sacrifice  is  requir- 
ed; in  resuming  his  heart  from  the  objects  of 
vice,  he  seems  to  abscind  his  own  flesh;  it 
would  seem  requisite  always  to  repeat  in  his 
ears  this  text,  "  He  that  eateth  this  bread,  and 
drinketh  this  cup  unworthily,  eateth  and  drink- 
eth  his  own  condemnation."  The  other  comes 
to  the  Lord's  table  as  to  a  feast;  he  brings  a 
heart  hungering  and  thirsting  for  righteousness; 
he  inwardly  hears  the  gentle  voice  of  God,  say- 
ing, "Seek  ye  my  face:"  he  replies,  "Thy 
face.  Lord,  1  will  seek.  As  the  hart  panteth 
after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after 
Vol.  IL— 49 


thee,  O  God.  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  yea, 
for  the  living  God,"  Ps.  xxvii.  8;  xlii.  I.  The 
delicious  sentiments  he  finds  in  the  communion 
of  Jesus  Ciirist,  i)ron)pts  him  to  forget  all  the 
sacrifices  he  has  made  for  a  participation 
therein. 

In  a  word,  not  to  multiply  cases,  the  one 
dies  because  he  must  die:  he  yields  to  that  ir- 
revocable sentence,  "  Return,  ye  children  of 
men,"*  Ps.  xc.  3.  Submission,  resignation,  and 
patience,  are  the  pillars  which  sustain  him  in 
his  agony.  The  other,  on  the  contrary,  meets 
death  as  one  who  would  go  to  a  triumph.  He 
anticipates  the  happy  moment  with  aspirations, 
which  shall  give  flight  to  his  soul;  he  cries,  he 
incessantly  cries,  "  Come  J^rd  Jesus,  come 
quickl)'."  Patience,  resignation,  submission, 
seem  to  him  virtues  out  of  season:  he  exercised 
them  while  condemned  to  live;  not  when  he  is 
called  to  die.  Henceforth  his  soul  abandons  it- 
self wholly  to  joy,  to  gratitude,  and  to  trans- 
ports. 

II.  Let  us  inquire  in  the  second  article  what 
judgment  we  should  pass  upon  ourselves  when 
destitute  of  the  heartfelt  piety  we  have  just 
described. 

Tliere  are  few  subjects  in  the  code  of  holi- 
ness, which  require  greater  precision,  and  in 
which  we  should  be  more  cautious  to  avoid  vi- 
sionary notioiiS.  Some  persons  regard  piety 
of  taste  and  sentiment  so  essential  to  salvation, 
as  to  reprobate  all  those  who,  as  yet,  have  not 
attained  it.  Certain  passages  of  Scripture  mis- 
construed serve  as  the  basis  of  this  opinion. 
Because  the  Spirit  of  God  sheds  a  profusion  of 
consolations  on  the  souls  of  some  believers,  it 
would  seem  that  he  must  shed  it  on  all.  They 
presume  that  a  Christian  must  judge  of  the 
state  of  his  mind  less  by  the  uprightness  of  his 
heart,  and  the  purity  of  his  motives,  than  by 
the  enjoyments,  or  the  privation  of  certain  spi- 
ritual comforts.  A  man  shall  powerfully  wres- 
tle with  his  passions,  be  always  at  war  with 
himself,  and  make  to  God  the  severest  sacri- 
fices, yet  if  we  do  not  feel  certain  transports, 
he  must  be  regarded  as  a  reprobate.  A  man, 
on  the  contrary,  who  shall  be  less  attentive  to 
the  conditions  of  salvation,  and  less  severe  to- 
wards himself,  must,  according  to  the  casuists 
I  attack,  banish  all  sorts  of  doubt  and  scruple 
of  his  salvation,  provided  he  attain  to  certain 
transports  of  ecstacy  and  joy. 

Whatever  basis  or  solidity  there  may  be  in 
one  part  of  the  principles  which  constitute  the 
foundation  of  this  system,  there  are  few  that 
are  more  dangerous.  It  often  gives  occasion  to 
certain  ebullitions  of  passion,  of  which  we  have 
too  many  examples.  It  is  much  easier  to  warm 
the  imagination  than  to  reform  the  heart. 
How  often  have  we  seen  persons  who  thought 
themselves  superior  to  all  our  instructions,  be- 
cause they  flattered  themselves  with  having  the 
Spirit  of  God  for  a  guide,  which  inwardly  as- 
sured them  of  their  pardon  and  eternal  salva- 
tion? How  often  have  we  seen  persons  of  this 
description  take  offence  because  we  doubted  of 
what  they  presumed  was  already  decided  in 


♦  What  critic  besides  our  author  gives  this  tarn  to 
these  words  of  Moses!  Their  glosses  are,  cither  return 
by  repentance,  or,  "Come  again  as  the  gras«  after  the 
scythe,  and  re-people  the  earth,  after  being  desolated  a 
thousand  years  before  the  flood."  J.  S. 


386 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


[Ser.  XCVII. 


their  breast,  by  a  divine  influence  and  super- 
natural voice?  How  often  have  we  seen  tiiem 
reject  with  high  disdain  and  revolt,  strictures 
of  wliich  they  were  but  too  worthy?  Let  us 
not  give  place  to  enthusiasm.  I^et  us  ever  pre- 
serve our  judgment.  The  Spirit  ot"  God  guides 
indeed,  but  he  does  not  blind.  I  prefer  a  hu- 
mility destitute  of  transports,  to  transports  des- 
titute of  humility.  The  piety  of  taste  and  sen- 
timent is  certainly  the  privilege  of  some  rege- 
nerate people:  it  is  indeed  a  disposition  of  mind 
to  which  all  the  regenerate  should  aspire;  but 
we  must  not  exclude  those  that  are  weak  from 
regeneration.* 

But  if  there  is  danger  of  striking  on  the  first 
rock,  there  is  some  danger  of  striking  on  the 
second.  Under  a  plea  that  one  may  be  saved 
without  the  conscious  comforts  we  have  de- 
scribed, shall  we  give  ourselves  no  inquietude 
about  acquiring  them?  Shall  we  give  our  heart, 
and  our  warmest  affections  to  the  world;  and 
offer  to  God  but  an  exhausted,  a  constrained 
and  reluctant  obedience?  Let  us  inquire  in 
what  case,  and  what  respects  we  may  console 
ourselves  when  deprived  of  conscious  comfort; 
and  in  what  case,  and  what  respects,  we  ought 
to  mourn  when  deprived  of  those  divine  favours. 

1.  Abstract  and  spiritual  objects  seldom 
make  so  deep  an  impression  on  the  mind  as 
those  which  are  sensible.     This  is  not  always 

*  Sauriii,  in  twenty  places  of  his  sermons,  attacks  a 
class  of  opponents  whom  tic  calls  casuists,  or  guides  and 
directors  of  the  soul.  These  were  the  supralapsarians. 
That  class  of  men,  I  have  little  doubt,  were  very  clear  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  Spirit.  And  Sauriu  is  not  only  clear, 
but  sublimely  so,  as  will  appear  from  this  sermon.  But 
he  errs  in  too  much  restricting  it  to  the  more  highly  fa- 
voured class  of  saints.  Perhaps  this  arose  from  early  pre- 
judice; perhaps  from  want  of  seeing  the  work  of  conver- 
sion on  an  extended  scale;  perhaps  the  opposition  he  re- 
ceived urged  his  replies  beyond  the  feelings  of  his  heart, 
and  so  far  as  to  drive  him  to  apparent  contradictions  of 
himself.  We  must  never  console  the  well  disposed  with 
the  doctrine  of  unconscious  salvation,  but  urge  them  to 
geek  it,  as  the  Scriptures  do,  and  as  our  author  fully  docs 
in  the  latter  part  of  this  discourse.  The  exceptioiis  are 
in  favour  of  men  of  a  nervous  and  dejected  mind,  who 
mostly  die  more  happily  than  they  live.  Now,  I  would  ask, 
is  a  man  to  attain  the  whole  Christian  temper  without 
the  influences  of  the  Spirit.'  Can  the  harvest  and  the  fruits 
ripen  without  the  solar  influence?  Can  we  be  satisfied  with 
our  imperfect  marks  of  conversion  till  assured  that  we 
consciously  love  God  from  a  reaction  of  his  love  shed 
abroad  in  our  heart?  Rom.  v.  5.  Did  not  the  primitive 
Churches  walk  in  the  cbmforts  of  the  Holy  UhosI?  Acts 
ix.  31.  And  is  there  any  intimation  that  the  witness — tlic 
seal — the  unction — and  the  «pp^iov  or  earnests  and  com- 
forts of  the  Holy  Spirit  were  confined  to  Christians  of  the 
first  age?  How  are  we  to  attain  the  Divine  image  without 
a  Divine  and  conscious  influence?  And  if  Uod  testify  his 
frowns  against  all  crimes  by  secret  terrors  of  conscience, 
why  may  he  not  testify  his  approbation  of  the  penitent, 
when  he  believes  with  the  heart  unto  righteousness; 
Why  should  the  most  gracious  of  all  beings  keep  us 
through  the  fear  of  death  all  our  lives  subject  to  bondage? 
Is  heaven  a  feast  of  which  only  a  few  favoured  ones  can 
have  a  foretaste?  Are  there  no  consolations  in  Christ 
Jesus,  exclusive  of  a  future  hope,  to  which  our  infirmities 
alTord  but  a  very  defective  title?  Hence,  I  cannot  but  la- 
ment the  ignorance,  or  bewail  the  error  of  ministers,  who 
ridicule  the  doctrine  of  the  Spirit.  Assurance,  comfort, 
and  the  witness  of  adoption,  are  subjects  of  prayer  rather 
than  of  dispute.  This  part  of  religion,  according  lo  lii- 
•hop  Bull,  is  better  understood  by  the  heart  than  by  the 
head.  Tlie  reader  who  would  wish  to  be  adecpiatefy  «c 
quainted  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Hpirit,  may  consult  Si. 
Ambrose,  St.  Augustine,  and  Macarius.  In  our  own 
tongue.  Bishop  bull's  sermons;  the  sermon  of  Bishon 
Smallridge,  and  Dr.  Conaiit  on  the  comforter;  Mr.  Joseph 
Mede  and  Dr.  Ciidworth  on  1  John  ii.  3;  Dr.  Owen  on 
the  Spirit:  Dr.  Watt»'  three  sermons,  and  Mr.  Wesley's 
sermon  on  the  witness  of  the  Spirit;  the  collect  for  the 
•ixlh  Sunday  after  Trinity. 


an  effect  of  our  depravity,  but  a  consequence 
of  our  infirmity.  A  man  may  be  able  to  pay  a 
better  supported  attention  to  an  exliibition  than 
to  a  course  of  holy  meditation;  not  that  he 
loves  an  exhibition  more  than  holy  meditation, 
but  because  the  one  devolves  on  abstract  and 
spiritual  truths,  while  the  other  presents  him 
with  spiritual  objects.  You  feel  no  wandering 
thoughts  in  presence  of  an  earthly  monarch 
who  holds  your  life  and  fortune  in  his  hands; 
but  a  thousand  distractions  assail  you  in  con- 
verse with  the  God,  who  can  make  you  eter- 
nally happy,  or  eternally  miserable.  This  is 
not  because  more  exalted  ideas  of  God's  power 
than  of  the  monarch's  are  denied;  it  is  because 
in  God's  power  the  object  is  abstract,  but  in 
the  monarch's,  the  object  is  sensible;  it  is  be- 
cause the  impression  of  sensible  objects  is 
stronger  than  those  which  are  abstract.  This, 
perhaps,  induced  St.  John  to  say,  "  If  a  man 
love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how 
can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seeiL'" 
This  argument  in  appearance  is  defective. — 
Does  it  follow,  that  because  I  love  not  my  bro- 
ther, whom  I  see,  being  full  of  imperfections, 
that  I  do  not  love  God,  who,  though  unseen,  is 
an  all-perfect  being?  This  is  not  the  apostle's 
argument.  He  means,  that  the  dispositions  of 
tlie  soul  are  moved  by  sensible,  rather  than  by 
abstract  and  spiritual  objects.  If  we  possessed 
that  source  of  tenderness,  which  prompts  the 
heart  to  love'  God,  our  tenderness  would  be 
moved  at  the  sight  of  a  man  in  distress,  and 
we  should  be  instantly  led  to  succour  him.  If 
the  sigjit  of  an  afflicted  man;  if  this  sensible 
object  make  no  impression  upon  us,  the  Divine 
perfections  which  are  spiritual  and  abstract  ob- 
jects, will  leave  us  lukewarm  and  unanimated. 
Let  each  of  us,  my  brethren,  ai)ply  this  remark 
to  the  subject  in  hand.  We  sometimes  want  a 
taste  and  inclination  for  devotion;  tliis  is  be- 
cause the  objects  of  piety  are  abstract  and  spi- 
ritual, and  make  a  less  impression  on  the  mind, 
tlian  the  objects  of  sense.  This  is  not  always 
an  effect  of  our  corruption;  it  is  sometimes  a 
consequence  of  natural  frailty. 

2.  The  piety  of  preference  and  of  sacrifice 
has  a  peculiar  excellence,  and  may  sometimes 
afford  encouraging  marks  of  salvation,  though 
unaccompanied  with  the  piety  of  sentiment 
and  taste.  You  do  not  find  the  same  vivacity 
in  prayer  that  you  once  found  in  public  diver- 
sions, but  you  prefer  prayer  to  tliose  diver- 
sions, and  you  sacrifice  them  for  tlie  sake  of 
prayer.  You  do  not  find  the  same  pleasure  in 
reading  books  of  piety  you  felt  in  reading  pro- 
fane books,  but  you  sacrifice  profane  reading 
for  books  of  devotion.  You  have  not  the  same 
pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  death  as  in 
the  prospects  of  life,  but  on  being  called  on  to 
die,  you  prefer  death  both  to  health  and  life. 
You  uniformly  surrender  your  health  and  your 
life  to  the  pleasure  of  Heaven  on  being  called 
to  the  crisis.  You  would  not  ransom,  by  the 
slightest  violation  of  the  divine  law,  this  life 
and  health,  how  dear  soever  they  may  be  to 
you.  Console  yourselves,  therefore,  with  the 
testimony  of  a  good  conscience.  Be  assured 
tiiat  you  are  sincere  in  the  sight  of  God;  and 
that  while  a.spiring  at  perfection,  your  sincerity 
shall  be  a  substitute  for  perfection. 

3.  The  holy  Scriptures  abound  with  passages 


Ser.  XCVII.] 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


387 


which  promise  salvation  to  those  who  use  en- 
deavours; to  those  "  vvlio  take  up  the  cross;"  to 
those  "  wlio  deny  themselves;"  to  those  "  who 
crucify  the  flesh  with  its  lusts;"  to  those  "  wlio 
strive,  or  agonize  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gale," 
Matt.  xvi.  24;  vii.  13;  Gal.  v.  24.  But  the 
Scriptures  no  where  exclude  from  salvation 
those  who  do  not  find  in  the  exercise  of  piety, 
the  joy,  the  transports,  and  the  delights  of 
which  we  have  spoken. 

4.  Experience  sometimes  discovers  to  us  cha- 
racters whose  whole  life  has  been  a  continual 
exercise  of  piety  and  devotion;  characters  who 
have  forsaken  all  for  Christ,  and  who  have  not 
as  yet  attained  to  the  blessed  state  after  which 
they  breathe,  and  continually  aspire. 

5.  The  greatest  of  saints,  and  those  whom 
the  Scriptures  set  before  us  as  models,  and 
those  even  who  have  known  the  highest  de- 
lights of  piety,  have  not  always  been  in  this 
happy  stale.  We  have  seen  them,  not  only 
after  great  falls,  but  under  certain  conflicts,  de- 
prived of  those  sweet  regards  which  had  once 
shed  such  abundant  joy  into  their  soul.  One 
may,  therefore,  be  in  a  state  of  grace  without 
a  full  experience  of  the  consolations  of  grace. 

6.  In  short,  the  hope  of  one  day  finding  the 
piety  of  taste  and  sentiment  should  assuage  the 
anguish  which  the  privation  excites  in  the  soul. 
God  often  confers  piety  of  taste  and  sentiment 
as  a  recompense  for  the  piety  of  sacrifice  and 
preference.  We  have  no  need  lo  go  and  seek 
those  comforts  in  the  miraculous  lives,  whose 
memory  is  preserved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  nor 
in  the  supernatural  endowments  conferred  on 
others.  If  you  except  certain  miracles  which 
God  once  performed  for  the  confirmation  of  re- 
ligion, and  religion  being  established,  they  are 
now  no  longer  necessary;  God  still  holds  the 
same  conduct  with  regard  to  his  saints  which 
he  formerly  held.  We  have  seen  saints  who 
have  long,  and  with  ineffectual  sighs,  breathed 
after  the  comforts  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  who, 
in  the  issue,  have  experienced  all  their  sweet- 
ness. We  have  seen  the  sick,  who  having  been 
alarmed  at  the  idea  of  dying,  who  having  sigh- 
ed at  the  simple  idea  of  its  pains,  its  anguish, 
its  separation,  its  obscurity,  and  all  the  appall- 
ing presages  excited  by  the  king  of  terrors:  we 
have  seen  them,  previous  to  his  approach,  quite 
inundated  with  consolation  and  joy.  I  know 
we  must  always  suspect  the  reveries  of  the  ima- 
gination, but  it  seems  to  us,  that  the  more 
calm  we  were  in  our  investigation,  precaution, 
and  even  distrust,  in  the  scrutiny  of  this  phe- 
nomenon, the  more  we  were  convinced  it  ought 
to  be  wholly  ascribed  to  the  Spirit  of  God. 
Those  transformations  were  not  the  effect  of 
any  novel  effort  we  had  caused  to  be  excited  in 
the  souls  of  the  sick.  They  sometimes  follow- 
ed a  profound  stupor,  a  total  letliargy,  which 
could  not  be  the  effect  of  any  pleasure  arisinor 
from  some  new  sacrifice  made  for  God,  or  from 
some  recent  victory  over  themselves.  The 
sick,  of  whom  we  speak,  seem  to  have  pre- 
viously cherished  all  imaginable  deference  for 
our  ministry.  Nothing  human,  nothing  ter- 
restrial was  apparent  in  those  surprising  trans- 
formations. It  was  the  work  of  God.  Let  us 
ask  that  we  may  receive.  If  he  do  not  answer 
the  first  time  we  pray,  he  answers  the  second: 
if  he  do  not  open  the  door  of  mercy  the  second 


time  wo  knock,  he  opens  the  third.  Suffer  not 
thyself  then,  O  my  soul,  to  be  depressed  and 
discouraged,  because  thou  dost  not  yet  partici- 
pate in  the  piety  of  taste  and  sentiment.  Be 
determined  to  pierce  the  cloud  with  which  God 
conceals  himself  from  thy  sight.  Though  ho 
say  to  thee  as  to  Jacob,  "  Let  me  go  for  the 
day  dawneth,"  answer  like  the  patriarch, 
"  Lord,  I  will  not  let  thee  go,  except  thou  bless 
me."  Though  he  affect  to  leave  thee,  as  he 
feigned  to  leave  the  two  disciples,  constrain 
him  as  they  did;  and  say  with  them,  "Lord 
stay  with  me;  it  is  toward  evening:  the  sun  is 
on  the  decline,"  Gen.  xxxii.  26;  Luke  xxiv.  29. 

These  are  the  principal  sources  of  consola- 
tion to  those  who  have  a  sincere  and  veliement 
desire  to  please  God,  and  who  have  not  yet  at- 
tained the  piety  of  taste  and  sentiment.  But 
though  the  privation  of  those  comforts  should 
not  dispirit  us,  yet  the  defect  is  ever  a  most 
humiliating  and  deplorable  consideration.  So 
you  may  conclude  from  what  you  have  just 
heard.  Yes,  it  is  very  humiliating  and  deplo- 
rable, though  we  should  even  prefer  our  duty 
to  our  pleasure,  when  those  duties  abound  with 
difficulties,  and  afford  no  consolations;  and 
when  we  are  merely  enabled  to  repel  attacks 
from  the  pleasures  of  the  age  with  reason  and 
argument,  which  persuade,  it  is  true,  but  they 
stop  in  the  tender  part  of  the  soul,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  and  neither  warm  the  imagination  nor 
captivate  the  heart.  Yes,  it  is  very  humiliat- 
ing and  deplorable  to  know  by  description  only, 
that  "  peace  of  God;  that  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory;  that  white  stone;  that  satisfac- 
tion; that  seal  of  redemption;"  and  those  ever- 
ravishing  pleasures,  of  which  our  Scriptures 
give  us  so  grand  a  view.  Yes,  it  is  very  hu- 
miliating and  deplorable  that  we  should  resem- 
ble the  Scripture  charucteis,  only  in  the  drouo-ht 
and  languor  they  sometimes  felt,  and  always 
aspiring  after  a  happier  frame  which  we  never 
attain. 

Farther  still:  the  privation  of  divine  com- 
fort should  not  only  humble  us,  but  there  are 
occasions  in  whicli  it  should  induce  us  to  pass 
severe  strictures  on  our  destiny.  There  are 
especially  two  such  cases  of  this  nature. 

1.  When  the  privation  is  general;  when  a 
conviction  of  duty,  and  the  motives  of  hope 
and  fear,  are  ever  requisite  to  enforce  the  exer- 
cises of  religion;  when.we  have  to  force  our- 
selves to  read  God's  word,  to  pray,  to  study 
his  perfections,  and  to  participate  of  the  pledges 
of  his  love  in  the  holy  sacrament.  It  is  not 
very  likely  that  a  regenerate  soul  should  be 
always  abandoned  to  the  difficulties  and  duties 
imposed  by  religion,  that  it  should  never  ex- 
perience those  comforts  conferred  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which  make  them  a  delight. 

2.  The  privation  of  divine  comforts  should 
induce  us  to  pass  severe  strictures  on  ourselves, 
when  we  do  not  make  the  required  efforts  to 
be  delivered  from  so  sad  a  state.  To  possess  a 
virtue,  or  not  to  possess  it,  to  have  a  defect, 
or  not  to  have  it,  is  not  always  the  criterion  of 
distinction  between  the  regenerate  man,  and 
him  who  has  but  the  name  and  appearance  of 
regeneration.  To  make  serious  efforts  to  ac- 
quire the  virtues  we  have  not  yet  attained, 
and  to  use  endeavours  to  correct  the  faults  to 
which  we  are  still  liable,  is  a  true  character  of 


388 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


[Ser.  XCVII. 


regeneration.  But  to  see  tlioso  faults  with  in- 
difference; and  under  a  plea  of  constitutional 
weakness,  not  to  subdue  tliem,  is  a  dislinjruisii- 
ing  mark  of  an  unregenerate  state.  Tiius  it  is 
apparent,  that  though  tiie  privation  of  tiie 
piety  of  taste  and  sentiment  be  not  always 
criminal,  it  is  always  an  imperfection;  and  that 
alone  sliould  prompt  us  to  rcfurni  it.  I  will 
suggest  to  you  the  remedies  of  this  evil,  after 
having  in  the  third  place  traced  the  causes 
which  produce  it. 

III.  To  accomplish  my  purpose,  and  to  ex- 
hibit the  true  causes  wiiich  deprive  us  of  the 
piety  of  taste  and  sentiment,  we  shall  make  a 
short  digression  on  the  nature  of  taste  and  sen- 
timent in  general;  we  shall  trace  to  the  source 
certain  sympathies  and  antipathies  which  ty- 
rannize over  us  without  our  having  apparently 
contributed  to  the  domination. 

The  task  we  here  impose  on  ourselves,  is  a 
difficult  one.  We  proceed  under  a  conscious 
need  of  indulgence  in  what  we  propose.  The 
causes  of  our  inclinations  and  aversions  are, 
apparently,  one  of  the  most  intricate  studies 
of  nature.  There  is  something  it  would  seem, 
in  the  essence  of  our  souls,  which  inclines  us 
to  certain  objects,  and  which  revolts  us  against 
others,  when  we  are  unconscious  of  the  cause, 
and  sometimes  even  against  tlie  most  obvious 
reasons.  The  Creator  has  obviously  given  a 
certain  impulse  to  our  propensities,  which  it  is 
not  in  our  power  to  divert.  Scarcely  do  the 
dawnings  of  genius  appear  in  children,  before 
we  see  them  biassed  by  peculiar  propensities. 
Hence  the  diversity,  and  the  singularity  of 
taste  apparent  in  mankind.  One  has  a  taste 
for  navigation,  another  for  trades  of  the  most 
grovelling  kind.  Virtue  and  vice  have  also 
their  scale  in  the  objects  of  our  ciioice.  One 
is  impelled  to  this  vice;  another  to  a  vice  of 
the  opposite  kind.  One  is  impelled  to  a  cer- 
tain virtue,  another  to  a  different  virtue.  And 
who  can  explain  the  cause  of  this  variety,  or 
prescribe  a  remedy  for  the  evil,  after  having 
developed  the  cause? 

But  how  impenetrable  soever  this  subject 
may  appear,  it  is  not  altogether  impossible,  at 
least  in  a  partial  way,  to  develop  it.  The 
series  of  propositions  we  proceed  to  establish, 
shall  be  directed  to  that  end.  But  we  ask  be- 
forehand your  indulgence,  that  in  case  we 
throw  not  on  the  subject  all  the  light  you 
would  wish,  do  not  attribute  the  defect  to  this 
discourse,  which  may  probably  proceed  from 
the  difficulty  of  the  subject,  and  probably  from 
the  slight  attention  our  hearers  pay  to  truths 
which  have  the  greatest  influence  on  life  and 
happiness. 

Proposition  first.  We  have  already  intimat- 
ed, that  a  sensible  object  naturally  makes  a 
deeper  impression  on  men,  than  an  object 
which  is  abstract,  spiritual,  and  remote.  This 
is  but  too  much  realized  by  our  irregular  pas- 
sions. A  passion  which  controls  the  senses  is 
commonly  more  powerful  than  those  which 
are  sealed  in  the  mind;  ambition  and  tiie  love 
of  glory  are  chietly  resident  in  the  mind; 
wliereas,  effeminacy  and  sensuality  have  their 
principal  seat  in  tiie  senses.  Passions  of  the 
latter  kind  do  more  violence  to  the  society  than 
others.  With  the  exception  of  tiiose  called 
heroes  in  the  world,  mankind  seldom  sacrifice 


their  ease,  their  sensuality,  their  effeminacy, 
to  high  notions,  to  ambition,  and  the  love  of 
glory.  And  how  often  have  the  heroes  them- 
selves sacrificed  all  their  laurels,  their  reputa- 
tion and  iheir  trophies,  to  the  charm  of  some 
sensible  i)leasure?  How  often  have  the  charms 
of  a  Uelilah  stopped  the  victories  of  a  Samson; 
and  a  t'leo[)atra  those  of  a  Cesar  and  a  Mark 
Antony? 

Proposition  second.  The  imagination  capti- 
vates both  the  senses  and  the  understanding. 
A  good  which  is  not  sensible;  a  good  even 
which  has  no  existence,  is  contemplated  as  a 
reality,  provided  it  have  the  decorations  pro- 
per to  strike  the  imagination.  The  features 
and  complexion  of  a  person  do  not  prove  that 
a  connexion  formed  with  her  would  be  agree- 
able and  happy.  Meanwhile,  how  often  have 
those  features  and  tints  produced  a  prejudice 
of  that  kind?  Nothing  is  often  more  insipid 
than  the  pleasure  found  in  conversation  with 
the  great.  At  the  same  time,  nothing  com- 
monly appears  so  enviable.  And  why?  Be- 
cause the  splendour  attendant  on  this  inter- 
course strikes  the  imagination.  The  retinues 
which  follow  them;  the  splendour  of  their  car- 
riages; the  mansions  in  which  they  live;  the 
multitude  of  people  who  flatter  and  adore 
them;  all  these  are  strikingly  qualified  to  make 
an  impression  on  the  imagination,  which  super- 
sedes the  operations  of  sense,  and  the  convic- 
tions of  the  mind. 

Proposition  third.  A  present,  or  at  least,  an 
approximate  good,  excites,  for  the  most  part, 
more  vehement  desires,  than  a  good  which  is 
absent,  or  whose  enjoyment  is  deferred  to  a 
remote  period.  The  point  where  the  edge  of 
the  passions  is  blunted,  almost  without  excep- 
tion, is,  when  they  have  to  seek  their  object  in 
distant  epociis,  and  in  future  years. 

Proposition  fourth.  Recollection  is  a  sub- 
stitute for  presence:  I  would  say,  that  a  good 
in  the  possession  of  which  we  have  found  de- 
light, produces  in  the  heart,  though  absent, 
much  the  same  desires,  as  that  which  is  ac- 
tually present. 

Proposition  fifth.  A  good,  ascertained  and 
fully  known  by  experience,  is  much  more  ca- 
pable of  inflaming  our  desires,  than  a  good  of 
which  we  have  but  an  imperfect  notion,  and 
which  is  known  only  by  the  report  of  others. 
A  person  endowed  with  good  accomplishments, 
and  whose  conversation  we  have  enjoyed,  is 
more  endeared  to  us  than  one  known  only  by 
character;  though  the  virtues  of  tlie  latter 
have  been  represented  as  far  surpassing  the 
virtues  of  the  other. 

A  sixth  proposition  is,  that  all  things  being 
equal,  we  prefer  a  good  of  easy  acquisition,  to 
one  which  requires  care  and  fatigue.  Difficulty 
sometimes,  I  grant,  inflames  desire,  and  se- 
duces the  imagination.  When  we  have  a  high 
opinion  of  a  good,  which  we  believe  is  in  our 
power  to  acquire  by  incessant  endeavours,  our 
ardours  become  invigorated,  and  we  redouble 
our  efforts  in  proportion  as  the  difficulty  aug- 
ments. It  is,  however,  an  indisputable  axiom, 
and  founded  on  the  nature  of  the  human  mind, 
that  things  being  equal,  we  prefer  a  good  of 
easy  acquisition,  to  one  that  requires  anxiety 
and  fatigue. 

A  seventh  jproposition  is,  that  a  good  beyond 


Ser.  XCVII.l 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


389 


our  reach,  a  good  that  we  do  not  possess,  and 
that  we  have  no  hope  so  to  do,  does  not  excite 
any  desire.  Hope  is  the  food  of  the  passions. 
Men  do  indeed  sometimes  pursue  phantoms; 
and  tiicy  frequently  run  after  objects  which 
they  never  enjoy;  but  it  is  always  in  hope  of 
enjoying  them. 

The  last  proposition  is,  that  avocations  fill 
tlie  capacity  of  the  soul.  A  mind  wliich  is 
empty,  at  leisure,  and  unoccuj)ied  with  ideas 
and  sentiments,  is  much  more  liable  to  be  ani- 
mated with  .a  passion,  tlian  one  which  is  al- 
ready attracted,  occupied,  and  absorbed,  by 
certain  objects  unconnected  with  that  passion. 
IV.  These  propositions  may  lead  us  to  an 
acquaintance  with  the  causes  of  our  antipathies 
and  our  sympathies.  We  have  laid  them  down 
with  a  view  to  assign  the  reasons  why  most 
people  fall  short  of  tiie  piety  of  taste  and  senti- 
ment. This  is  the  point  we  proceed  to  prove. 
We  shall  also  trace  the  sources  of  the  evil,  and 
prescribe  the  principal  remedies  whicli  ought 
to  be  applied.  We  shall  hereby  make  tlie 
fourth  part,  combined  with  the  third,  the  con- 
clusion of  this  discourse. 

1.  Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste  and 
sentimetit-'  It  is  because  that  a  sensible  object 
naturally  makes  a  deeper  impression  upon  us, 
than  an  object  which  is  abstract,  invisible,  and 
iepiritual.  The  God  we  adore,  is  a  God  that 
hiiieth  hiotself.  The  lustre  of  the  duties  impos- 
ed by  religion,  appear  so  to  the  mind  onlj';  they 
have  nothing  that  can  attract  the  eyes  of  the 
body.  The  rewards  promised  by  Jesus  Christ, 
are  objects  of  faith;  they  are  reserved  for  a 
world  to  come,  which  we  never  saw  and  of 
which  we  have  scarcely  any  conception:  where- 
tjs  the  pleasures  of  this  world  are  presented  to 
our  taste;  they  dazzle  the  eye,  and  charm  the 
ear.  They  are  pleasures  adapted  to  a  creature 
which  naturally  suffers  itself  to  be  captivated 
by  sensible  objects.  Here  is  the  first  source 
of  the  evil.  Tlie  remedy  to  be  applied  is  to 
labour  incessantly  to  diminish  tlie  sovereignty 
of  the  senses.  To  animate  the  soul  to  so 
laudable  a  purpose,  we  must  be  impressed  with 
the  base  and  grovelling  disposition  of  the  man 
tvho  suffers  himself  to  be  enslaved  by  sense. 
What!  shall  the  senses  communicate  their 
grossity  and  heaviness  to  our  souls,  and  our 
souls  not  communicate  to  the  senses  their 
purity,  their  energies,  and  divine  flame?  Wiiat! 
shall  our  senses  always  possess  the  power,  in 
some  sort,  to  sensualize  the  soul,  and  our  souls 
■never  be  able  to  spiritualize  the  senses.'  What! 
shall  a  concert,  a  theatre,  an  object  fatal  to 
our  innocence,  charm  and  ravish  the  soul, 
while  the  great  truths  of  religion  are  destitute 
of  effect'  What!  do  the  ideas  we  form  of  the 
perfect  Being;  of  a  God,  eternal  in  duration, 
wise  in  d&signs,  powerful  in  execution,  magnifi- 
«ent  in  grace;  what!  does  the  idea  of  a  Redcem- 
«r,  who  sought  mankind  in  their  abject  state, 
who  devoted  himself  for  their  salvation,  who 
placed  himself  in  the  breach  between  them  and 
the  tribunal  of  justice;  what!  does  the  hope  of 
eternal  salvation,  which  comprises  all  the  fa- 
vours of  God  to  man,  do  all  these  ideas  still 
leave  us  in  apathy  and  indifference?  This  con- 
sideration should  make  a  Christian  blush;  it 
should  induce  him  to  call  to  his  aid,  meditation, 
reading,  retirement,  solitude,  and  whatever  is 


calculated  to  enfeeble  the  influence  of  his 
senses,  whose  sovereignty  produces  effects  so 
awful  and  alarming. 

2.  Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste 
and  sentiment'  It  is  because  the  tyranny  of 
the  senses  is  succeeded  by  the  tyranny  of  the 
imagination;  it  is  because  the  objects  of  piety 
are  not  accompanied  with  that  sensible  charm 
with  which  the  imagination  is  struck  by  the 
objects  of  our  passions.  This  is  the  second 
source  of  tlie  evil,  and  it  points  out  the  second 
remedy  which  must  be  applied.  A  rational 
man  will  be  ever  on  his  guard  against  his  ima- 
gination. He  will  dissipate  the  clouds  with 
which  it  disguises  the  truth.  He  will  pierce 
the  thin  bark  with  which  it  covers  the  sub- 
stance. He  will  make  appearances  give  place 
to  realities.  He  will  summon  to  the  bar  of 
reason  all  the  illusive  conceptions  his  fancy 
has  formed.  He  will  judge  of  an  object  by 
the  nature  of  the  object  itself,  and  not  by  the 
chimeias  with  whiclj  they  are  decorated  by  a 
seductive  imagination. 

Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste  and 
sentiment?  It  is  because  that  a  present,  or, 
at  least,  an  approximate  good,  excites  in  us 
more  ardent  desires  than  a  good  which  is  ab- 
sent, or  whose  enjoyment  is  deferred  to  a  distant 
period.  This  third  source  of  evil  suggests  the 
remedy  that  must  be  applied.  Let  us  form  the 
habit  of  anticipating  the  future,  and  of  realizing 
it  to  our  minds.  Let  us  constantly  exercise 
that  "  faith  which  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen." 
Let  us  "  not  look  at  the  things  which  are  seen, 
which  are  temporal;  but  at  eternal  things, 
which  are  not  seen,"  Heb.  xi.  5;  2  Cor.  iv. 
Let  us  often  launch  beyond  the  confined  sphere 
of  objects  with  which  we  are  surrounded.  Our 
notions  must  be  narrow,  indeed,  if  they  do  not 
carry  us  above  the  economy  of  the  present 
life.  It  may  terminate  with  regard  to  you  in 
twenty  years,  or  in  ten  years:  it  may  terminate 
with  regard  to  you  in  a  few  days,  or  in  a  few 
hours.  Tiiis  is  not  all,  we  must  often  reflect 
on  the  awful  events  which  must  follow^  the 
narrow  spliere  assigned  us  here  below.  We 
must  often  think  that  the  world  "shall  pass 
away  with  a  great  noise,  and  its  elements  melt 
with  fervent  heat,"  and  its  foundations  shall 
be  sliaken.  "  The  mighty  angels  shall  swear 
by  Him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  that  time 
siiall  be  no  longer,"  2  Pet.  iii.  10;  Rev.  x.  6. 
We  must  often  think  on  the  irrevocable  sen- 
tence which  must  decide  tiie  destiny  of  all 
mankind;  on  the  joys,  on  the  transports  of  those 
who  shall  receive  the  sentence  of  absolution; 
and  on  the  dreadful  desponding  cries  of  those 
whom  the  Divine  justice  shall  consign  to  eter- 
nal torments. 

4.  Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste  and 
sentiment'  It  is  because,  to  a  certain  degree, 
recollection  is  a  substitute  for  presence.  This 
is  the  fourth  source  of  evil.  You  would  your- 
selves, and  without  difficulty,  prescribe  the 
remedy,  if,  in  this  discourse  which  requires  you 
to  correct  your  taste  by  your  reason,  you  did 
not  consult  your  reason  less  than  your  taste. 
But  plead  for  certain  pleasures  with  all  the 
energy  of  which  you  are  capable;  make  an 
apology  for  your  parties,  your  games,  your  di- 
versions; say  that  there  is  nothing  criminal  in 


390 


A  TASTE  FOR  DEVOTION. 


[Ser.  xcvn. 


those  dissipations  against  wliich  \vc  have  so 
often  declaimed  willi  so  much  strength  in  this 
holy  place:  be  obstinate  to  maintain  tiiat 
preaciiers  and  critics  decry  tiieni  from  miscon- 
ceptions of  tiicir  innocence.  It  is  certain,  how- 
ever, that  tlie  recollection  of  pleasure  attracts 
the  lieart  to  pleasure.  The  man  who  would 
become  more  sensible  of  the  pleasures  of  devo- 
tion, should  apply  himself  to  devotion;  and  the 
man  who  would  become  less  attracted  by  the 
pleasures  of  the  age,  should  absent  himself  from 
the  circles  of  pleasure. 

5.  Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste  and 
sentiment'  It  is  because  that  a  good,  known 
and  experienced,  is  much  more  capable  of  in- 
flaming our  desires,  than  that  which  is  imper- 
fectly conceived,  and  known  merely  by  the  re- 
port of  others.  Why  do  we  believe  that  a  soul 
profoundly  composed  in  meditation  on  the  glo- 
ries of  grace,  is  "satisfied  as  with  marrow  and 
fatness?"  We  believe  it  on  the  positive  testi- 
mony of  the  prophet.  We  believe  it  on  the 
testimony  of  illustrious  saints,  who  assert  the 
same  thing.  But  let  us  endeavour  to  be  con- 
vinced of  tiie  fact  in  a  better  way.  "  Lord, 
show  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us."  So 
was  the  prayer  of  Philip  to  Jesus  Christ,  John 
xiv.  8.  This  request  proceeded  from  the  igno- 
rance of  the  apostles,  prior  to  the  day  of  pente- 
cost.  The  request  was,  however,  founded  both 
on  reason  and  truth.  Philip  was  fully  persuad- 
ed, if  he  could  once  see  with  his  own  eyes  the 
God,  whose  perfections  were  so  gloriously  dis- 
played, that  he  should  be  ravished  with  his 
beauty;  and  that  he  should,  without  reluctance, 
make  the  greatest  sacrifices  to  please  him.  Let 
us  retain  what  is  rational  in  the  request  of  Phi- 
lip, rejecting  what  is  less  enlightened.  Let  us 
say  to  Jesus,  but  in  a  sense  more  exalted  than 
this  disciple,  "  Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  and 
it  sutliceth  us."  Ijord,  give  me  to  know  by 
experience  the  joy  that  results  from  the  union 
of  a  soul  reconciled  to  its  God,  and  I  shall  ask 
no  other  pleasure;  it  shall  blunt  the  point  of 
all  others. 

6.  Are  we  destitute  of  the  piety  of  taste  and 
sentiment?  It  is  because  all  things  being  equal, 
we  prefer  a  good,  easy  of  acquisition,  to  one 
that  requires  labour  and  fatigue.  And  would 
to  God,  that  we  were  always  disposed  to  con- 
tract our  motives  with  our  fatigues;  the  esti- 
mate would  invert  our  whole  system  of  life. 
We  should  find  few  objects  in  this  world  to 
merit  the  efforts  bestowed  in  their  acquisition; 
or,  to  speak  as  the  Supremo  Wisdom,  we 
should  find  that  "  we  spend  money  for  that 
which  is  not  bread,  and  lai)our  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not,"  Isa.  Iv.  2.  Would  to  (iod,  that 
the  difficulties  of  acquiring  a  piety  of  taste  and 
sentiment,  were  but  properly  contrasted  with 
the  joy  it  procures  tlioso  who  surmount  them. 
In  this  view,  we  should  realize  the  estimate, 
"  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  life,  are  not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that 
shall  he  revealed  in  us,"  Rom.'viii.  IS.  See- 
ing then,  that  whatever    part  we    espouse, 


whether  it  be  the  part  of  religion,  or  the  part 
of  the  world,  this  life  is  invariably  a  life  of  la- 
bour, we  should  prefer  the  labours  attended 
with  a  solid  peace,  to  those  which  involve  us 
in  anguish  and  inquietude. 

7.  Tiio  alfairs  of  life  engross  the  capacity  of 
the  soul.  A  mind  which  is  empty,  at  leisure, 
and  unoccupied  with  ideas  and  sentiments,  is 
much  more  liable  to  be  animated  and  filled 
with  a  passion,  than  one  that  is  already  con- 
centrated on  certain  objects,  which  have  no 
connexion  with  that  passion.  This  is  the  last 
reason  assigned  for  our  non-attainment  of  the 
consolations  of  religion.  Let  us  keep  to  the 
point.  Casting  our  eye  on  the  crimes  of  men, 
we  regard,  at  first  view,  the  greater  part  of 
them  as  monsters.  It  would  seem  that  most 
men  love  evil  for  the  sake  of  evil.  I  believe," 
however,  that  the  portrait  is  distorted.  Man- 
kind are  perhaps  not  so  wicked  as  we  commonly 
suppose.  But  to  speak  the  truth,  there  is  one 
duty,  my  bretliren,  concerning  which  their  no- 
tions are  quite  inadequate;  that  is,  recollection. 
There  is  likewise  a  vice  whose  awful  conse- 
quences are  by  no  means  sufficiently  perceived; 
that  vice,  is  dissipation.  Whence  is  it,  that  a 
man,  who  is  appalled  by  the  mere  idea  of 
death  and  of  hell,  should,  nevertheless,  brave 
them  both?  It  is  because  he  is  dissipated;  it  is 
because  his  soul,  wholly  engrossed  by  the  cares 
of  life,  is  unable  to  pay  the  requisite  attention 
to  the  idea  of  death  and  hell,  and  to  the  inter- 
ests of  this  life.  Whence  is  it,  that  a  man  dis- 
tinguished for  charity  and  delicacy,  shall  act  in 
a  manner  so  directly  opposite  to  delicacy?  It 
is  because  the  dissipations  inseparable  from  the 
ofKce  he  fills,  and  still  more  so,  those  he  inge- 
niously procures  for  himself,  obstruct  attention 
to  his  own  principles.  To  sum  up  all  in  one 
word,  whence  is  it,  that  we  have  such  exalted 
views  of  piety,  and  so  little  taste  for  piety?  The 
evil  proceeds  from  the  same  source — our  dissi- 
pations. Let  us  not  devote  ourselves  to  the 
world  more  than  is  requisite  for  the  discharge 
of  duty.  Let  our  affections  be  composed;  and 
let  us  keep  witiiin  just  bounds  the  faculty  of 
reflection  and  of  love. 

If  we  adopt  these  maxims,  we  shall  be  able 
to  reform  our  taste;  and  I  may  add,  to  reform 
our  sentiment.  We  shall  botli  think  and  love 
as  rational  beings.  And  when  we  think  and 
love  as  rational  beings,  we  shall  perceive  that 
nothing  is  worthy  of  man  but  God,  and  what 
directly  leads  to  God.  Fixing  our  eyes  and 
our  hearts  on  the  Supreme  object,  we  shall 
ever  feel  a  fertile  source  of  pure  deligiit.  In 
solitude,  in  deserts,  overtaken  by  the  catastro- 
phes of  life,  or  surrounded  with  tiie  shadows 
and  terrors  of  death,  we  shall  exult  with  our 
prophet,  "  My  soul  is  satisfied  as  with  marrow, 
and  fatness,  and  my  mouth  shall  praise  thoo 
with  joyful  lips,  when  I  remember  thee  in  the 
night-watches;"  and  when  1  make  thy  adora- 
ble perfections  the  subject  of  my  thought. 
May  God  enable  us  so  to  do:  to  whom  bo  ho- 
nour and  glory  for  ever.     Amen. 


See.  XCVIIL] 


ON  REGENERATION. 


391 


SERMON  XCVIII. 


ON  REGENERATION. 
PART  I. 


John  iii.  1 — 8. 
There  was  a  man  of  the  Pharisees,  named  J^Tico- 
demus,  a  ruler  of  the  Jews:  the  same  came  to 
Jcsm  bij  night,  and  said  unto  him,  Rabbi,  tve 
knoio  thai  thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God; 
for  no  man  can  do  those  miracles  that  thou  doest, 
except  God  be  with  him.  Jesus  answered  and 
said  unto  him,  Verilij,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the 
kingdom  of  God.  J^icodemus  saith  unto  him, 
hoxo  can  a  man  be  born  ichcn  he  is  old?.  Can 
he  enter  Ike  second  time  into  his  mother''s  womb 
and  be  bom?  Jesius  answered.  Verily,  verily, 
I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born  of  icater 
and  ofthi  Spirit  he  cannot  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God.  That  which  is  born  of  the  flesh 
is  Jlesh,  and  that  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit  is 
spirit.  Marvel  not  that  I  said  unto  thee, 
ye  must  be  born  again.  The  wind  bloweth  \ 
where  it  lisleth,  and  thou  hcarcst  the  sound  there- 
of but  canst  not  tell  ivhence  it  cometh,  and 
whither  it  gocth:  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of 
the  Spirit. 

The  transition  which  happened  in  the  con- 
dition of  Saul  was  very  remarkable.  Born  of 
an  obscure  family,  actually  employed  in  seek- 
ing strayed  asses,  and  having  recourse  on  this 
inconsiderable  subject  to  the  divine  liglitof  a 
propiiet,  Saul  instantly  found  himself  anointed 
with  a  mystic  oil,  and  declared  king,  by  the 
prophet,  who  added,  "  It  is  because  tlie  Lord 
hath  anointed  thee  to  be  captain  over  his  heri- 
tage."    1  Sam.  X.  1. 

To  correspond  with  a  rank  so  exalted,  it  was 
requisite  that  there  should  be  as  great  a  change 
in  tiie  person,  as  there  was  about  to  be  in  the 
condition,  of  Saul.  The  art  of  government 
has  as  many  amplifications  as  there  are  wants 
and  humours  in  those  tliat  are  governed.  A 
king  must  associate  in  some  sort  in  his  own 
person,  every  science  and  every  art.  He  must 
be,  so  to  speak,  at  the  same  juncture,  artificer, 
statesman,  soldier,  piiilosojiher.  Tliose  who 
are  become  gray-headed  in  this  art  find  daily 
new  diftîculties  in  its  execution.  How  then 
could  Saul  expect  to  acquire  it  in  an  instant? 
The  same  prophet  that  notified  the  higli  honour 
to  which  God  had  called  him,  discovered  tlie 
source  whence  he  might  derive  the  supports  of 
which  he  had  need.  "  Behold  (said  he,)  wlien 
thou  shalt  come  to  the  hill  of  God,  where 
there  is  a  garrison  of  the  Philistines,  thou  shalt 
meet  a  company  of  prophets.  Then  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  shall  come  upon  thee,  and  thou 
shalt  prophesy,  and  thou  shalt  be  changed  to 
another  man,"  1  Sam.  x.  5,  6.  The  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  siiall  come  upon  tliee:  here  is  support 
for  the  regal  splendour;  here  is  grace  for  the 
adequate  discharge  of  the  royal  functions. 

Does  it  not  seem,  my  brethren,  that  the  sa- 
cred historian,  in  reciting  tiiese  circumstances, 
was  wisiiful  to  give  us  a  portrait  of  tiie  change 
which  grace  makes  in  the  soul  of  a  Christian. 
"  Conceived  in  sin,  and  shapen  in  iniquity,  he 


is  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath.  His  father  is  an 
Amorito,  and  his  mother  a  Hittite;  yet  he  is 
called  out  of  darkness  into  marvellous  light." 
He  is  called  to  be  a  prince  and  a  priest.  But 
in  vain  would  he  be  honoured  with  a  vocation 
so  iiigii,  if  tlie  change  in  his  soul  did  not  cor- 
respond with  tliat  of  his  condition.  Who  is 
suflicient  for  so  great  a  work.'  How  shall  men 
whoso  ideas  are  low,  and  whose  sentiments  are 
grovelling,  attain  to  a  magnanimity  assortable 
with  the  rank  to  which  tliey  are  called  of  God? 
Tiie  grace  which  elevates,  changes  the  man 
who  is  called  unto  it.  The  Spirit  of  God 
comes  upon  him;  it  gives  him  a  new  heart, 
and  ho  becomes  another  man. 

These  are  tiie  great  truths  which  Jesus 
Christ  taught  Nicodemus  in  the  celebrated 
conversation  we  have  partly  read,  and  which 
we  propose  to  make  the  subject  of  several  dis- 
courses, if  God  shall  preserve  our  life,  and  our 
ministry.  Here  we  sliall  discover  the  nature, 
the  necessity,  and  the  Author,  of  the  regenera- 
tion which  Christianity  requires  of  us. 

I.  The  nature  of  this  ciiange  shall  be  the 
subject  of  a  first  discourse.  Here  in  giving 
you  a  portrait  of  a  regenerate  man,  and  in  de- 
scribing the  characters  of  regeneration,  we 
shall  explain  to  you  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ, 
"  Except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  of  the 
Spirit." 

II.  The  necessity  of  this  change  shall  be  the 
subject  of  a  second  discourse.  Here,  endea- 
vouring to  dissipate  the  illusions  we  are  fond 
of  making  on  the  obligations  of  Christianity, 
we  shall  press  the  proposition  which  Jesus 
Christ  collects  and  asserts  with  so  much  force, 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  excepta  man 
be  born  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot 
see  the  kingdom  of  God.  Marvel  not  that  I 
said  unto  thee,  ye  must  be  born  again.  Art 
thou  a  master  in  Israel,  and  knowest  not  these 
things?" 

HI.  The  author  of  the  change  shall  be  the 
subject  of  a  third  discourse.  There  using  our 
best  efforts  to  penetrate  the  vast  chaos  with 
which  ignorance,  shall  I  call  it,  or  corruption, 
has  enveloped  this  branch  of  our  theology,  we 
shall  endeavour  to  illustrate  and  to  justify  the 
comparison  of  Jesus  Christ;  "  the  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound 
thereof;  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh^ 
and  whither  it  goeth." 

I.  In  giving  a  portrait  of  the  regenerate,  and 
in  tracing  the  characters  of  regeneration  (which 
is  the  duty  of  the  present  day,)  we  must  ex- 
plain the  expressions  of  the  Lord,  "  to  be  bom 
again; — to  be  born  of  the  Spirit,"  though  it  be 
not  on  grammatical  remarks  we  would  fix  your 
attention,  we  would,  however,  observe,  that 
the  phrase,  to  be  born  of  water  and  of  the 
Spirit,  is  a  Hebraical  phraseology,  importing 
to  be  born  of  spiritual  water.  By  a  similar  ex- 
pression, it  is  said  in  the  third  chapter  of  St. 
Matthew,  "  I  indeed  (says  John  Baptist)  bap- 
tize you  with  water  unto  repentance,  but  there 
cometh  after  me  one  mightier  than  I;  he  shall 
baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
fire;"  that  is,  with  spiritual  life.  When  Jesus 
Christ  says,  that  we  cannot  see  the  kingdom 
of  God,  except  we  are  born  of  water  and  of 
the  Spirit,  he  wishes  to  apprise  us,  that  it  is 
not  suflicient  to  bo  a  member  of  his  church,  to 


302 


ON  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  XCVIII. 


be  baptized,  which  is  called  "  the  washing  of 
regeneration;"*  but  tliat  greater  renovations 
must  take  place  in  the  heart,  than  what  water 
can  produce  on  the  surface  of  the  body. 

With  regard  to  tiie  other  expression,  "To 
be  born  again,"  it  is  susceptible  of  a  double 
sense.  Tiie  original  term  may  perhaps  be  so 
translated;  so  is  its  imirort  in  various  places, 
which  are  not  of  moment  to  recite  here.  It 
may  also  be  rendered,  born  from  above;  as  in 
the  tiiird  chapter  of  St.  James,  "  The  wisdom 
from  above  is  first  pure,  liien  peaceable."  In 
this  te.vt,  tiie  original  term  is  the  same  as  that 
which  we  iiere  translate  born  again;  but  though 
the  variation  might  attract  tiie  critic's  attention, 
it  ought  not  to  divert  the  preacher;  for  to 
whichsoever  of  the  readings  we  may  give  the 
preference,  tiie  idea  of  our  version  invariably 
corresponds  with  the  design  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  with  the  sense  of  the  original.  The  uni- 
form intention  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  to  dis- 
tinguish our  state  of  grace  from  that  of  na- 
ture. The  state  of  nature  is  low  and  grovelling; 
that  of  grace  is  noble  and  sublime;  consonant 
to  what  our  Saviour  said  unto  the  Jews,  "  Ye 
are  from  beneath,  I  am  from  above,"  John  viii. 
23.  Now  for  men  whose  birth  is  mean  and 
grovelling,  to  acquire  a  great  and  noble  descent, 
they  must  be  born  anew;  thus  to  be  born  from 
above,  and  to  be  born  again,  are  the  same  thing;  I 
and  both  these  readings,  how  different  soever 
they  may  appear,  associate  in  the  same  sense. 
It  is  of  muclx  more  importance  to  remark  on 
the  words  which  follow,  "  Born  of  water  and 
of  the  Spirit;"  first,  that  they  are  Hebraisms; 
and  we  have  found  the  authorities  so  nume- 
rous, that  we  have  had  more  difficulty  in  re- 
jecting the  less  pertinent  tlian  in  making  the 
selection. 

The  Jews  call  the  change  which  they  pre- 
sume their  proselytes  had  experienced  a  spi- 
ritual birth;  a  new  birth;  a  regeneration.  It  was 
one  of  their  maxims,  that  the  moment  a  man 
became  a  proselyte,  he  was  regarded  as  a  child, 
once  born  in  sin,  but  now  born  in  holiness. 
To  be  born  in  holiness,  was,  in  their  style,  to  be 
born  in  the  covenant;  and  to  this  mode  of 
speaking,  St.  Paul  apparently  refers  in  that  re- 
markable passage  in  the  first  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  vii.  14.  "The  unbelieving  hus- 
band is  sanctified  by  the  wife,  and  the  unbeliev- 
ing wife  is  sanctified  by  the  husband;  else  were 
your  children  unclean,  but  now  are  they 
holy." — "  Now  are  they  holy;"  that  is,  they 
are  accounted  as  born  within  the  covenant. 
Consonant  to  this  notion,  the  Jews  presumed 
that  a  man  on  becoming  a  proselyte,  had 
no  longer  any  consanguinity  with  those  to 
whom  nature  had  joined  him  with  indissoluble 
ties;  and  that  he  had  a  right  to  espouse  his 
sister,  and  his  mother,  if  they  became  prose- 
lytes like  himself!  This  gave  Tacitus,  a  pagan 
historian,  occasion  to  say,  that  the  first  lessons 
the  Jews  taught  a  proselyte  was,  to  despise  the 
gods,  to  renounce  his  country,  and  to  regard 
his  own  children  with  disdain.f     And  Slai- 

*  Our  learmil  Male  preft-r»  the  literal  reading  of 
Titus  iii.  6.  The  vnshinv  of  the  New  Birth,  and  the  re- 
newing of  the  Holy  Ghtst.  From  this  dislinctinri  of  St. 
Pacil,  many  (liviiii-s  liisliiiKiii^tn-fl  ihc  New  Birth  as  the 
entrance  on  Régénération. — The  TransUilor. 

f  Book  i.  chap.  5. 


I  monides  affirms,  that  the  children  with  which 
an  Egyptian  woman  is  pregnant  at  the  time  she 
becomes  a  proselyte,  are  of  the  second  birth. 
Hence  some  Rabbins  have  had  the  odd  and 
confused  refinement  to  suppose,  that  there  is 
an  infinity  of  souls  born  of  I  know  not  what 
ideal  mass;  that  tiiose  destined  to  the  just,  lodge 
in  a  certain  palace;  that  when  a  pagan  em- 
braces Judaism,  one  of  those  souls  proceeds  from 
its  abode,  and  appears  before  the  Divine  Ma- 
jesty, who  embraces  it,  and  sends  it  into  the 
body  of  the  proselyte,  where  it  remains;  that 
as  an  infant  is  not  fully  made  a  partaker  of 
human  nature,  but  when  a  pre-existent  spirit 
is  united  to  its  substance  in  the  bosom  of  its 
motlier,  so  a  man  never  becomes  a  true  prose- 
lyte but  when  a  new  spirit  becomes  the  sub- 
stitute of  that  he  derived  from  nature.* 

Though  it  be  not  necessary  to  prove  by  nu- 
merous authorities  the  first  remark  we  shall 
make  on  the  words  of  Christ,  "To  be  bom  of 
spiritual  water,"  and  to  be  "  born  again,"  it  is 
proper  at  least  to  propose  it;  otherwise  it  would 
be  difficult  to  account  for  our  Saviour's  re- 
proving Nicodemus,  as  being  "  a  master  in 
Israel  and  not  knowing  these  things."  For  a 
doctor  in  the  law  does  not  seem  reprehensible 
for  not  understanding  a  language  peculiar  to 
Jesus  Christ,  and  till  then  unheard  of;  whereas 
the  blame  naturally  devolved  on  this  Jew  for 
exclaiming  at  expressions  familiar  to  the  Rab- 
bins. No  doubt,  Nicodemus  was  one  of  those 
men,  who,  according  to  an  ancient  and  still 
existing  abuse,  had  superadded  to  his  rank  and 
dignity,  the  title  of  doctor,  of  which  he  was 
rendered  unworthy  by  his  ignorance.  Hence 
the  evangelist  expressly  remarks,  that  he  was 
"  a  rul.er  of  the  Jews;"  "  a  ruler  of  the  Jews!" 
here  are  his  degrees;  here  are  his  letters;  ivere 
is  his  patent. 

But  Jesus  Christ,  and  this  is  my  second  re- 
mark, in  borrowing,  corrected  the  language  of 
the  Jews.  He  meant  not  literally  what  he  said 
to  Nicodemus,  that  to  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God,  or  according  to  the  language  of  Scripture 
and  of  the  Jews,  to  be  a  disciple  of  the  Messiah, 
one  "  must  be  born  again:"  he  never  imbibed 
the  notion,  that  a  man  on  embracing  Chris- 
tianity, receives  a  new  soul  to  succeed  tlie  one 
he  received  from  nature;  he  had  not  adopted 
the  refinement  of  the  Jewish  cabalists,  concern- 
ing the  pre-existence  of  souls.  The  expres- 
sions are  figurative,  and  consequently  subject 
to  the  inconveniences  of  all  similes,  and  figu- 
rative language  in  general.  The  metaphor  he 
employs,  when  representing  by  the  figure  of 
"  a  new  birth,"  the  change  which  must  take 
jjlace  in  the  soul  of  a  man  on  becomiug  a 
Christian;  this  metaphor  I  say,  must  be 

1.  Restricted. 

2.  It  must  be  justified. 

3.  It  must  be  softened. 

4.  It  must  be  fortified. 

1.  The  expression  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be 
restricted.  We  cannot  well  find  the  import  of 
any  metaphor,  unless  we  separate  whatever  is 

*  When  our  Saviour  says,  that  neither  the  blind  man, 
nor  his  parents,  had  sinned  in  a  pre  eiistcnt  stale,  he 
obviously  decides  against  this  doctrine  of  Pylhagorus  and 
the  Rabbins.  How  tan  a  holy  God  send  a  holy  soul  into 
a  sinful  body.'  And  St.  I'aul  says,  that  Levi  paid  titlics 
in  the  loius  of  Abraham, — J.  S. 


Ser.  XCVIII.] 


ON  REGENERATION. 


393 


extraneous  to  the  subject  to  which  it  is  applied. 
The  ideas  of  all  authors  whatever  would  bo 
distorted,  did  we  wish  to  extend  tiieir  iiirurc's 
beyond  tiie  just  bounds.     Wliat  is  indisputable 
with  regard  to  all  authors,  is  peculiarly  so  with 
regard  to  tlie  orientals,  for  e.xcelliuif  other  na- 
tiou.s  ill  a   warm   imagination,  they  naturally 
abound  in  bolder  rnetu[)hors.    Hence  the  bolder 
the  metaphors,  the  more  is  the  need  to  restrict 
them;  the  more  they  would  frustrate  the  pro- 
posed design,  siiould  we  not  avail  ourselves  of 
this   precaution.     What  absurd  systems  have 
not  originated  from  the  license  indulged  on  the 
comparison  of  Jesus  Christ  concerning  the  ties 
which  unite  us  to  himself,  with  the  connexion 
they  have  with  tiie  aliments  which  nourish  us, 
and  which  by  manducation,  are  changed,  if  wc 
may  so  speak,  into  our  own  substance?     Pro- 
perly to  understand  this  comparison,  we  must 
restrict  it.    We  nmst  be  aware  that  it  turns  on 
this  single  point,  that  as  food  cannot  nourish 
us,  unless  it  be  received  into  the  body  by  eat- 
ing; just  so,  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  will 
be   unavailing,   if  we  content  ourselves   with 
regarding  it  in  a  superficial  manner;  neglect  a 
profound  entrance  into  all  its  doctrines,  and  a 
close  application  of  its  maxims  to  the  heart. 
Of  other  similes  we  may  say  the  same.      How 
many  are  the  insipid  notions  which  arise  from 
straining  the  comparisons  between  the  mystical 
significance  of  the  ritual  law,  and  the  myste- 
ries of  the  gospel.'     1  here  refer  to  the  types; 
those  striking  figures,  of  which  God  himself 
is  the  author,  and  which  in  the  fiist  ages  of  the 
church   traced   the   outlines   of  great   events, 
which  could  not  take  place  till  many  ages  after 
they  had  been  adumbrated  by  those  figures. 
On  contemplating  those  types  in  a  judicious 
manner,  you  will  find  support  for  your  faith, 
and  indisputable  proofs  of  the  truth  of  your 
religion,     liut  to  contemplate  them  in  a  just 
point   of  view,  they  must   be   restricted    in  a 
thousand  respects,  in  which  they  can  have  no 
connexion  with  the  object  they  are  designed 
to  represent.     Into  how  many  mistakes  should 
we  run  on  neglecting  this  precaution;  and  on 
straining   the  striking  metaphors  taken  from 
the  priests,  the  victims,  and  other  shadows  in 
the  ritual  law.'     To  understand  those  types  and 
figures,   we  must   restrict  them;  we  must  be 
aware  that  they  bear  on  this  single  point;  I 
would  say,  that  as  the  office  of  the  high-priest 
under  the  law   was  to  reconcile  God  to  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  whose  name  he  bore  engraved 
on  his  mysterious  pectoral;  just  so,  the  mediato- 
rial  office   of  Christ  consisted   in  reconciling 
God  to  the  men,  with  whose  nature  he  was 
clothed. 

Never  had  figure  more  need  of  this  precau- 
tion; never  had  figure  more  need  to  be  re- 
stricted than  that  employed  by  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  words  of  my  text.  The  restriction  has  a 
double  bearing.  First,  it  must  be  restricted  to 
the  persons  of  the  unrcgenerate  who  are  not  in 
communion  with  his  people;  and  secondly,  to 
the  things  which  Jesus  Christ  requires  of  the 
unrcgenerate.  The  comparison  of  Jesus  Christ 
must  be  restsicted  to  the  profligate,  or  to  the 
self-righteous,  who  are  not  in  communion  with 
his  people.  If  we  fail  to  make  this  distinction, 
but  indiscriminately  apply  the  expression  to 
all,  we  confound  the  change  required  of  a  man 
Vol.  II.— 50 


who  has  not  yet  embraced  Christianity,  with 
that  recpiired  of  a  weak  and  wandering  Chris- 
tian, who  makes  daily  etibrls  to  attain  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  to  practise  virtue; 
or,  who  recovers  from  his  errors  and  devia- 
tions. It  would  be  unfair  to  say,  that  such  a 
Christian  has  need  to  "  be  born  again,"  at 
least,  in  the  sense  which  Jesus  Christ  attaches 
to  the  words  of  my  text. 

2.  The  comparison  must  be  restricted  to  the 
change  itself,  which  Jesus  Christ  requires  of 
those  to  whom  it  ougiit  to  be  applied.  Rut  in 
what  respects  are  those  things  called  a  new 
biiili?  The  metaphor  concentrates  itself  on  a 
single  point;  that  as  an  infant  on  coming  into 
the  world,  experiences  so  great  a  change  in  its 
modo  of  existence  in  regard  of  respiration,  of 
nourishment,  of  sight,  and  of  all  its  sensations, 
and  so  very  different  from  what  was  the  ease 
prior  to  its  birth,  as  in  some  sort  to  seem  a  new 
creature;  so  a  man  on  passing  from  the  world 
to  the  church,  is  a  new  man  compared  with 
what  he  was  before.  He  has  now  other  ideas, 
other  desires,  other  propensities,  other  hopes, 
other  objects  of  happiness.  If  you  should  not 
make  this  restriction:  but  extend  the  metaphor, 
you  would  make  very  injudicious  contrasts  be- 
tween t!ie  circumstances  of  the  new,  and  of  the 
natural  birth;  and  you  would  form  notions, 
not  only  unwortliy  of  reception,  but  deemed 
unworthy  of  refutation  in  a  place  like  tliis. 

IF.  But  the  change  here  represented  by  the 
idea  of  a  new  birth,  is  not  tiie  less  a  reality, 
for  being  couched  in  figurative  language. 
Hence  we  have  said  in  the  second  place,  that 
the  expression  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  justi- 
fied. In  what  does  tlie  change  required  of 
those  that  would  enter  into  fellowship  with 
him  consist.'  In  what  does  this  new  birth  con- 
sist? We  have  just  insinuated,  that  it  is  a 
change  of  ideas;  a  change  of  desires;  a  change 
of  taste;  a  change  of  hope;  a  change  of  the 
objects  of  happiness. 

I.  A  change  of  ideas.  An  unrcgenerate 
man,  unacquainted  witli  Jesus  Christ,  is  wish- 
ful to  be  the  arbitrator  of  his  own  ideas.  He 
admits  no  propositions  but  what  are  proved  at 
the  bar  of  reason;  he  takes  no  guide  but  his 
own  discernment,  or  that  of  some  doctor, 
often  as  blind,  and  sometimes  more  so,  tlian 
himself.  On  the  contrary,  the  regenerate  man 
sees  solely  with  the  eyes  of  his  Saviour:  Je- 
sus Christ  is  liis  only  guide,  and  if  I  may  so 
speak,  his  sole  reason,  and  his  sole  discern- 
ment. 

I  have  no  clear  idea  of  the  manner  in  which 
my  soul  can  subsist  after  the  ties  which  unite 
it  to  matter  are  dissolved.  I  do  not  properly 
know  my  soul  by  idea;  I  know  it  solely  by  sen- 
timent, and  by  experience;  and  I  have  never 
thoiigiit  without  the  medium  of  my  brain; 
1  have  never  perceived  objects  without  the  me- 
dium of  my  eyes;  1  have  never  heard  sounds 
witiiout  the  organs  of  my  ears;  and  it  does 
not  appear  to  me  that  these  sensations  can  be 
conveyed  in  any  otiicr  way.  I  believe,  how- 
ever, tiiat  I  shall  hear  sounds  when  the  orixans 
of  my  ears  are  destroyed;  I  believe  tliat  I 
shall  perceive  objects  when  the  light  of  my 
eyes  is  extinguished;  I  believe  that  I  shall 
think,  and  in  a  manner  more  close  and  sub- 
lime  when  toy  brain  shall    exist  no  more. 


394 


ON  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  xcvra. 


I  believe  that  my  soul  shall  perform  all  these 
operations  when  my  body  shall  be  cold,  pale, 
immovable,  and  devoured  of  worms  in  the 
tomb:  1  believe  it; — but  wliy?  Because  this 
Jesus  to  whom  I  have  commended  iny  spirit, 
has  said  to  the  penitent  thief,  and  in  him  to 
every  true  Christian,  "  Verily  I  say  unto  thee, 
to-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  paradise," 
Luke  xxiii.  43. 

I  have  no  idea  of  this  awful  mystery,  where- 
by a  God,  a  God  essentially  One,  associates 
in  his  own  essence  a  Father,  a  Son,  and  a  Holy 
Ghost;  that  as  the  distinction  with  regard  to 
Paternity,  Filiation,  and  Spi ration,  is  as  real 
as  the  union  with  regard  to  the  Godhead. 
These  mysteries  have  no  connexion  with  my 
knowledge;  yet  I  believe  tiicm:  and  why?  Be- 
cause I  have  changed  my  ideas,  because  this 
Jesus  to  whom  I  have  yielded  up  my  spirit, 
this  Jesus,  after  preaching  the  doctrine  of  the 
unity  of  God,  has  decided,  that  the  Fatlier  is 
God,  that  the  Son  is  God,  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
is  God:  and  he  has  said  to  his  apostles,  "  Go, 
and  teach  all  nations,  baptizing  them  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."* 


SERMON  XCVIII. 


ON  REGENERATION. 
PART  II. 


John  iii.  8. 
The  wind  bloweth  ii'hcre  it  Usieth,  and  thou  hear- 
est  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence 
it  cometh,  and  whither  it  godh:  so  is  every  one 
that  is  bo)-n  of  the  Spirit. 
My  brethreii,  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject  on  which  we  now  enter,  with- 
out deploring  the  contests  it  has  excited  in  the 
christian  world.     In  our  preceding  discourses 
you  have  seen  the  nature,  and  the  necessity  of 
regeneration:  we  now  proceed  to  address  you 
on  its  Author;  and  to  call  your  attention  to 
this  part  of  Jesus  Christ's  conversation  with 
Nicodemus;  "  The  wind  blowetli  where  it  list- 
eth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  tliereof,  but 
canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  and  whither 
it  goeth:  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit."      How  often  has  this  subject  armed 
Christian   against   Christian,  and  communion 
against   conununion?     How   often  has  it   ba- 
nished from  the  church  that  peace    which  it 
seems  so   nmcli   calculated    to   cherish?      No 
sooner  had  the  apostles  entered  on  their  minis- 
try, than  they  magnified  the  doctrines  of  grace; 
but  in  magnifying  them,  they  seemed  sent  to 
Bet  the  world  on  Tire.     The  Jews  and  tiie  phi- 
losophers,   prepossessed  in   favour  of   human 
Bufticiency,  revolted  at  a  doctrine  so  opposed 
to  their   pride:  they  presumed  on    makmg  a 
progress  in  virtue,  that  they  owed  the  ])raise 
■olely  to  their  own  efforts  of  personal  virtue. 


No  one  is  ignorant  of  the  noise  which  the 
doctrine  of  grace  excited  in  the  ages  which 
followed;  of  the  schism  of  Pelagius,  and  of 
the  immense  volumes  which  the  ancient  fa- 
thers heaped  on  this  heretic. — The  doctrines 
of  grace  have  been  agitated  in  the  church  of 
Home:  they  formed  in  its  bosom  two  powerful 
parties,  which  have  given  each  other  alternate 
blows,  and  alike  accused  each  other  of  over- 
turning Christianity.  No  sooner  had  our  re- 
formers raised  the  standard,  than  the  disputes 
concerning  the  doctrines  of  grace  were  on  the 
point  of  destroying  tlic  work  they  had  begun 
with  so  nmch  honour,  and  supported  with  suc- 
cess; and  one  saw  in  the  communion  they  had 
just  formed,  the  same  spirit  of  division,  as  that 
which  exi.sted  in  the  communion  they  liad  left. 
The  doctrines  of  grace  have  caused  in  this  re- 
public as  much  confusion  as  in  any  other  part 
of  tlie  Cliristian  world:  and  what  is  more  de- 
l)lorablc  is,  that  after  so  many  questions  discuss- 
ed, so  many  battles  fought,  so  many  volumes 
written,  so  many  anathemas  launched,  the 
dispositions  of  the  public  are  not  yet  concilia- 
ted, and  the  doctrines  of  grace  often  remain 
enveloped  in  the  cloud  they  endeavoured  to 
dissipate;  and  so  much  so  that  the  efforts  they 
made  to  illustrate  so  interesting  a  subject, 
served  merely  to  confuse  and  envelope  it  the 
more. 

But  how  notty  soever  this  subject  may  be, 
it  is  not  my  design  to  disturb  the  embers,  and 
revive  your  disputes.  I  would  endeavour,  not 
to  divide,  but  to  conciliate  and  unite  your 
minds:  and  during  the  whole  of  this  discourse, 
in  which  the.  Holy  Sjjirit  is  about  to  discover 
himself  to  you  under  the  emblem  of  a  wind,  I 
sliall  keep  in  view  the  revelation  with  which  a 
prophet  was  once  honoured:  God  said  to  Eli- 
jah, "  Go  forth,  and  stand  on  the  mountain 
before  the  Lord.  And  behold,  the  Lord  passed 
by,  and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the  moun- 
tains, and  brake  in  pieces  tlie  rocks  before  the 
Lord;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  wind:  and 
after  the  wind,  an  earthquake;  but  the  Lord 
was  not  in  the  earthquake:  and  after  the  earth- 
quake, a  fire;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  tire: 
and  after  the  fire,  a  still  small  voice:  (a  sound 
coy  and  subtle.)  Then  Elijali,  awed  with  re- 
verence at  the  divine  presence,  wrapped  his 
face  in  his  mantle,"  and  recognised  tlie  token 
of  Jehovah's  presence.  The  first  emblems  of 
this  vision  have  been  but  too  much  realized  in 
the  controversies  of  the  Christian  church:  but 
when  shall  the  latter  be  realized?  Long  enough; 
yea  too  long,  have  we  seen  "  the  great  and 
strong  wind  which  rent  tlie  mountains,  and 
brake  in  pieces  tlie  rocks."  Long  enough; 
yea  too  long,  has  tlie  earthquake  shook  the  pil- 
lars of  the  cliurch;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in 
the  wind;  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake. 
Yet  at  this  very  day  the  Vatican*  kindles  the 
fire,  and  with  thunderbolts  in  its  hand,  it  pre- 
sumes to  determine,  or  rather  to  take  away, 
the  laws  of  grace:  "  but  the  Lord  was  not  in 
the  fire." 


•  The  rejl  ofthia  posthumouitermon  is  not  in  the  origi- 
nal; neither  i>  there  any  apology  for  the  Iota  by  the  pree- 
byteri  and  deacona  who  edited  the  volume.  The  argu- 
ments being  reaumcd  in  the  next  sermon,  and  especially 
the  lermon  on  "  A.  Taste  for  Devotion,"  will,  in  loine 
lort,  detdope  the  author 'a  teutimciits.' 


*  The  Vatican  is  a  mr>:it  magnilicint  palace  at  Rome; 
the  residence  of  the  Popes,  and  ctltbrattd  for  its  lil>rary. 
The  learned  Varro  says  it  took  its  name  from  the  answer! 
or  oracles  called  by  the  Latins  vaticiitia,  which  the  Ro- 
man peuple  received  there  from  a  god  of  the  same  name, 
who  was  said  to  be  the  author  of  the  first  sounds  of  in- 
fants, which  is  va,  from  vagire,  to  cry. — J.  S. 


Ser.  XCVIII.] 


ON  REGENERATION. 


395 


May  this  still  small  voice,  the  precursor  of 
the  Divinity,  and  the  symbol  of  liis  presenoe, 
be  heard  to-day  in  tlie  midst  of  this  asseriihly! 
Excite  thy  iiallowing  accents,  in  these  taberna- 
cles we  liave  built  for  thy  glory,  and  in  which 
we  assemble  in  thy  name,  O  Holy  Spirit,  Spirit 
of  peace:  may  thy  peace  rest  on  the  lips  and 
heart  of  the  preaciier;  may  it  animate  all  those 
that  compose  this  assembly,  tiiat  discord  may 
for  ever  be  banished  from  our  churches,  and  be 
confined  to  the  abyss  of  hell  from  whence  it 
came,  and  that  charity  may  succeed.     Amen. 

We  must  now  illustrate  the  doctrine  of  the 
text,  and  state  at  large  the  ideas  of  the  gospel 
respecting  the  aids  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  to 
which  regeneration  is  hero  ascribed  by  Jesus 
Christ,  and  without  which  we  might  justly  ex- 
claim with  Nicodemus  at  our  Saviour's  asser- 
tion, "  How  can  these  things  be?"  With  that 
view  I  shall,  propose  certain  maxims,  which 
shall  be  as  so  many  precautions  one  should 
take  when  entering  on  this  discussion,  and 
which  will  serve  to  guiJe  in  a  road  that  con- 
troversies have  rendered  so  thorny  and  dillicult. 
We  shall  afterward  include  in  six  propositions 
all  which  seems  to  us  a  Christian  ought  to 
know,  and  all  he  ougiit  to  do  on  this  subject. 
This  is  all  that  remains  for  me  to  say. 

Maxim  1.  In  tiie  selection  of  passages  on 
which  you  established  the  doctrine  of  the  aids 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  more  cautious  to  choose 
those  that  are  pertinent,  than  to  amass  a  mul- 
titude that  are  inconclusive.  The  rule  pre- 
Bcribed  in  the  beginning  of  this  discourse,  and 
which  we  shall  inviolably  follow  to  the  end, 
not  to  revive  the  controversy,  prevents  my  as- 
signing all  the  reasons  that  induce  me  to  begin 
with  this  precaution.  It  is  a  general  fault,  and 
indeed  a  very  delicate  propensity  in  defending 
a  proposition,  to  adopt  with  avidity,  not  only 
what  favours  it  in  effect;  but  what  seems  to 
favour  it.  In  the  warmth  of  conversation,  and 
especially  in  the  heat  of  debate,  wo  use  argu- 
ments of  which  we  are  ashamed  when  reason 
returns,  and  when  we  calmly  converse.  Di- 
vines are  not  less  liable  to  this  fault  tiian  other 
men.  By  how  many  instances  might  we  sup- 
port this  assertion?  But  not  to  involve  myself 
in  a  discussion  so  delicate  and  difficult,  I  only 
remark,  that  if  there  bo  in  our  Scriptures  an 
equivocal  term,  it  is  that  of  spirit.  It  is  equi- 
vocal not  only  with  regard  to  the  diversity  of 
subjects  to  which  it  is  applied,  but  also  because 
of  the  diversity  of  its  bearings  on  the  same 
subject.  And  what  ought  to  be  the  more  care- 
fully noticed  in  the  subject  we  discuss,  is,  that 
it  has  significations  without  number  when  ap- 
plied to  the  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit  which  hea- 
ven accords  to  men.  Do  not  imagine  that 
every  time  it  is  said  the  Spirit  of  God  is  given 
to  man,  the  gifts  of  sanctifying  grace  are  to  be 
understood.  In  very  many  places  it  signifies 
the  gift  of  miracles.  Select,  therefore,  the 
passages  on  which  you  would  establish  the 
doctrine  of  sanctifying  grace;  and  bo  less  soli- 
citous of  amassing  a  n)ultitude,  than  of  urging 
those  which  are  pertinent  and  conclusive. 

Maxim  2.  In  establishing  the  doctrine  of 
the  operation  of  grace,  be  cautious  of  overturn- 
ing another  not  less  essential  to  religion.  When 
you  establish  this  part  of  our  Saviour's  theo- 


logy, be  careful  not  to  injure  his  moral  code; 
and  under  the  plea  of  rendering  man  orthodox, 
do  not  make  hiin  wicked.  As  there  is  nothing 
so  rare  in  the  intercourse  of  life,  as  a  certain 
equanimity  of  tem]>er,  which  makes  a  man  al- 
ways appear  like  himself,  and  unfluctuating, 
how  much  soever  he  may  fluctuate  in  circum- 
stances; so  there  is  nothing  more  rare  in  the 
sciences  than  that  candour  of  argument,  which 
in  maintaining  a  proposition,  we  leave  in  full 
force  some  otiier  |iroposition  we  had  maintain- 
ed, and  wiiich  we  had  had  some  particular  rea- 
son for  so  doing.  There  are  some  authors 
constantly  at  variance  with  themselves.  What 
is  requisite  to  refute  what  a  certain  author  ad- 
vances in  a  recent  publication?  We  have  but 
to  adduce  what  he  has  presumed  to  establish  in 
a  former  work.  By  what  means  may  we  re- 
fute what  a  preaciier  has  just  advanced  in  the 
last  sentences  of  a  discourse?  By  adducing 
what  ho  presumed  to  confirm  but  a  moment 
before  in  the  same  discourse.  Now,  my  bre- 
thren, there  is  one  point  of  the  Christian  doc- 
trine, on  which  this  caution  is  very  necessary; 
it  is  that  on  which  we  spake  to-day.  Let  us 
take  care  that  we  do  not  merit  the  censure 
which  has  been  made  on  the  most  celebrated 
of  the  ancient  advocates  of  grace*  (whether 
correct  or  incorrect  I  do  not  undertake  to  de- 
termine;) the  censure  is,  that  when  attacking 
the  Maniclicans,  he  favoured  the  cause  of  the 
Pelagians;  and  when  attacking  the  Pelagians, 
he  favoured  the  cause  of  the  Manicheans.  Let 
us  detest  the  ma.xims  of  certain  modern  preach- 
ers concerning  the  doctrines  of  grace;  that  a 
preacher  should  be  orthodox  in  the  body  of  his 
sermon,  but  heretic  in  the  application.  No; 
let  us  not  be  heretics  either  in  the  body  or  in 
the  application  of  our  sermons.  Let  us  neither 
favour  the  system  of  Pelagius,  nor  that  of  the 
Manicheans.  Let  us  have  a  theology  and  a 
morality  equally  supported.  Let  us  take  heed 
not  to  establish  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  aids, 
in  a  way  that  attacks  the  other  doctrines,  as 
those  men  do;  for  God,  who  is  supremely 
holy,  is  not  the  author  of  sin.  Let  us  take 
heed  in  expounding  the  passages  which  esta- 
blish the  doctrine  of  grace,  not  to  do  it  in  a 
way  which  makes  them  impugn  those  pas- 
sages of  Scripture,  where  God  "  invites  all 
men  to  repentance:"  Rom.  ii.  4.  and  where  it 
is  said,  that  "  he  is  not  willing  that  any  should 
perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance," 
2  Pet.  iii.  9;  where  he  declares  that  "  if  we  do 
perish,"  "  it  is  of  ourselves,"  and  only  of  our- 
selves, Hos.  xiii.  9;  where  he  calls  upon  the 
inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  to  confess,  that  he 
had  taken  all  the  proper  care  that  his  "vine- 
yard should  bring  forth  grapes,  though  it 
brought  forth  wild  grapes,"  Isa.  v.  3,  4;  where 
he  introduces  himself  as  addressing  to  man- 
kind the  most  pathetic  exhortations,  and  en- 
treaties the  most  ardent,  to  promote  their  con- 
version, and  as  shedding  the  bitterest  tears  on 
their  refusal;  as  saying  in  the  excess  of  his 
grief,  "  O  tiiat  thou  hadst  known,  at  least  in 
this  thy  day,  the  things  tliat  belong  to  thy 
peace,"  Luke  xix.  41,  42.  "  O  that  my  peo- 
ple had  hearkened  unto  me,"  Fs.  Ixxxi.  13; 

*  Augustin, 


396 


ON  llEGENERATIOX. 


[Ser.  XCVIII. 


"  O  that  they  were  wise;  that  Ihoy  understood 
this;  tliat  they  would  consider  tlieir  latter 
end,"  Deut.  xxxii.  29. 

Jilaxiin  3.  Do  not  abandon  the  doctrine  of 
pracp,  l)ccause  you  are  unable  to  e.xplairt  ail 
its  abstruse  refinements,  or  bec-auscyou  cannot 
reply  to  all  tlie  inquiries  it  may  liave  suggest- 
ed. Tlicre  is  scarcely  a  projiosition  which 
could  claim  our  assent,  were  wc  to  give  it  to 
those  only  whose  several  ])arts  we  can  clearly 
explain,  and  to  whose  many  quf.stions  we  can 
fully  reply.  This  maxim  is  es-sential  to  all  the 
sciences.  Theoloiiy  has  what  is  common  to  all 
human  sciences:  and  in  addition,  as  its  object 
is  much  more  noble  and  e.valted,  it  has  more 
points,  concerning  wiiich  it  is  not  possible  fully 
to  satisfy  the  mind.  This  is  especially  the  case 
with  regard  to  the  doctrine  we  now  discuss.  I 
might,  were  it  required,  give  you  many  de- 
monstrations, that  tlie  nature  of  the  doctrine 
is  such  that  we  cannot  perfectly  comprehend 
it.  We  know  so  little  of  the  manner  in  which 
certain  ideas  and  certain  sentiments  are  excit- 
ed in  the  soul;  we  know  so  little  how  the  un- 
derstanding acquiesces,  and  how  the  will  de- 
termines, that  it  is  not  surprising  if  we  are 
ignorant  of  what  is  requisite  for  the  under- 
standing to  acquiesce,  and  the  will  to  deter- 
mine, in  religion:  we  especially  know  so  little 
of  the  various  means  God  can  employ,  when 
he  is  pleased  to  work  on  our  soul,  that  it  is 
really  a  chance  to  hit  on  the  riglit  one  by 
which  he  draws  us  from  tlie  world:  it  may  be 
by  his  sovereignty  over  our  senses;  it  may  be 
by  an  immediate  operation  on  the  .«substance 
of  our  souls.  But  without  having  recourse  to 
this  mode  of  reasoning,  the  doctrine  of  my 
te.xt  is  quite  sufl'icicnt  to  substantiate  the  maxim 
I  advance.  I  presume  that  you  ought  to  admit 
the  doctrine  of  grace,  though  you  can  neither 
perfectly  explain  it,  nor  adequately  answer  all 
the  questions  it  may  have  excited.  This  is  the 
precise  import  of  the  comparison  Jesus  Christ 
makes  between  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
and  the  operations  of  the  wind.  "  The  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the 
sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it 
cometh,  and  whitlier  it  goeth:  so  is  every  one 
that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 

J\Jexim  4.  When  two  truths  on  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  are  apparently  in  opposition, 
and  cannot  be  reconciled,  sacrifice  the  less  im- 
portant to  tiiat  which  is  of  greater  moment. 
Two  truths  cannot  in  reality  be  in  opposition. 
It  is  a  fact  demonstrated,  that  two  contradic- 
tory propositions  cannot  both  be  true;  but  the 
limits  of  our  understanding  often  present  a 
contradiction  whore  in  reality  none  exists.  1 
frequently  hear  learned  men  expound  the  gos- 
pel, but  adopting  ditlerent  methods  to  attain 
the  same  end,  they  suggest  diilicullies  alter- 
nately. Some  press  the  duty  of  man;  others 
enlarge  on  the  inability  of  man,  and  on  the 
need  he  Itas  of  divine  a.-^sistance.  Tlie  former 
tax  the  hiW:r  witli  giving  sanction  to  the  cor- 
ruption of  iiian:  and  the  latter  charge  the  for- 
mer with  flattering  the  pride  of  man.  The 
first  object  t«  the  second,  that  in  totally  de- 
stroying the  f.icullies  of  man,  and  in  straining 
the  necessity  of  grace,  they  authorize  him  to 
say,  "  Seeing  literally  that  I  can  do  nothing,  1 
ought  not  to  blame  myself  for  doing  nothing; 


nor  to  make  a  crime  of  remaining  where  I  am." 
The  second  charge  the  first  that  in  conferring 
too  much  honour  on  the  powers  of  man,  and  in 
affording  him  too  much  reason  to  believe  he  is 
still  the  arbitrator  of  his  own  will,  they  throw 
the  temptation  in  his  way  to  crown  himself 
with  his  osvn  merits,  and  to  become  the  work- 
er of  his  own  .«alvalion.  Now,  supposing  we 
were  obliged  to  choose  eitlicr  to  lean  to  the 
pride  of  man,  or  to  his  corruption,  for  which 
must  we  decide?  I  am  fully  convinced  that 
the  necessity  of  diligence,  which  is  imposed 
upon  us,  should  not  give  any  colour  to  our 
pride:  and  you  will  see  it  instantly;  you  will 
see  that  however  great  the  application  which 
the  best  of  saints  may  have  made  to  the  work 
of  their  salvation,  humility  was  their  invariable 
sentiment.  You  will  see  that  aller  having 
read,  and  thought,  and  reflected;  that  having 
endeavoured  to  subdue  their  sçnses,  and  to 
sacrifice  the  passions  God  requires  in  sacrifice, 
they  have  believed  it  their  duty  to  abase  their 
eyes  to  the  earth,  and  to  sink  into  the  dust 
from  which  they  were  made;  yea,  always  to 
say  with  the  profoundest  sentiments  of  abase- 
ment, "  O  God,  righteousness  belongeth  unto 
thee,  but  unto  us  shame  and  confusion  of 
face,"  Dan.  ix.  7.  Hence,  if  we  were  obliged 
to  choose  either  a  system  which  apparently  fa- 
vours the  pride  of  man,  or  a  system  which  ap- 
parently favours  his  corruption,  we  could  not 
hesitate,  we  must  sacrifice  the  last  to  the  first. 
The  reason  is  obvious,  because  in  leaning  to 
the  pride  of  man,  you  do  but  favour  one  pas- 
sion, whereas,  by  leaning  to  the  corruption  of 
man,  you  favour  every  passion;  you  favour 
hatred,  revenge,  and  obduracy;  and  in  favour- 
ing every  passion,  you  favour  this  very  pride 
you  are  wishful  to  destroj'.  Now,  it  must  be 
incomparably  better  to  favour  but  one  passion, 
than  to  favour  them  all  in  one. 

J\Iaxitn  5.  In  pressing  the  laws  of  grace,  do 
not  impose  the  law  of  making  rules  so  general 
as  to  admit  of  no  exceptions.  I  know  indeed 
that  God  is  always  like  himself,  and  that  there 
is  a  certain  uniformity  which  is  the  grand  cha- 
racter of  all  his  actions;  but  on  this  occasion, 
as  on  many  others,  he  deviates  from  common 
rules.  There  are  miracles  in  grace,  as  in  na- 
ture: so  you  shall  presently  see,  my  brethren, 
in  the  use  of  this  maxim,  and  in  the  necessity 
of  this  precaution. 

II.  Entering  now  on  the  doctrine  of  grace, 
and  with  the  precautions  just  laid  down,  do 
not  fear  to  follow  us  into  this  troubled  sea,  how 
dangerous  soever  it  may  appear,  and  how 
abundant  soever  it  may  be,  in  shipwrecks.  I 
proceed  to  a.ssociate  practice  with  speculation, 
and  to  comprise  in  six  propositions  all  that  a 
Christian  ought  to  know,  and  all  he  ought  to 
do,  in  regard  to  this  subject. 

1.  Nature  is  so  dejiraved,  that  man,  without 
supernatural  aids,  cannot  conform  to  the  con- 
ditions of  his  salvation. 

2.  That  how  invincible  soever  this  corruption 
may  be,  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the 
man  who  enjoys,  and  the  man  who  is  deprived 
of  revelation. 

3.  That  the  aids  which  man  can  neither  de- 
rive from  the  wreck  of  nature,  nor  from  ex- 
terior revelation,  arc  promised  to  him  in  the 
gospel. 


Ser.  xcviir.] 


ON  REGENERATION. 


397 


4.  That  though  man  can  neither  draw  from 
the  wreck  of  nature,  nor  from  exterior  revela- 
tion, tiic  requisite  aid  to  fulfil  the  conditions  of 
his  salvation;  and  tliough  tlie  grace  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  be  i)roniised  to  him;  he  has  no  right  to 
presume  on  those  aids,  while  he  obstinately  re- 
sists the  aids  afforded  him  by  his  frail  nature, 
and  by  exterior  revelation. 

6.  That  the  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit  promis- 
ed to  men,  are  imparted  at  first  by  measure; 
hence  to  abuse  tiiose  he  already  has,  is  the 
surest  way  to  obstruct  the  reception  of  fresh 
support. 

6.  To  whatever  degree  one  may  have  carried 
the  abuse  of  past  fïivours,  one  ought  not  to  de- 
spair of  obtaining  fresh  support,  which  sitould 
always  be  asked  witli  fervent  prayer. 

These,  brethren,  are  our  six  propositions, 
which  apparently  contain  all  tliat  a  Christian 
ought  to  know,  and  all  he  ought  to  do  on 
this  subject.  God  is  my  witness  that  I  enter 
on  the  discussion  in  such  a  way  as  appears  to 
me  most  proper  to  cherish  among  us  that  peace, 
which  should  ever  be  so  dear,  and  to  prevent 
all  those  unhappy  controversies  which  have 
agitated  tlie  church  in  general,  and  this  repub- 
lic in  particular.  I  shall  proceed  with  these 
propositions  in  the  same  temper  as  I  have  enu- 
merated them,  and  haste  to  make  them  the 
.  conclusion  of  this  discourse. 

1.  Nature  is  so  depraved,  that  man,  without 
supernatural  aids,  cannot  conform  to  tlie  con- 
ditions of  his  salvation.  Would  to  God  that 
this  proposition  was  less  true!  Would  to  God 
that  we  had  more  difficulty  in  proving  it!  But 
study  your  own  heart.  Listen  to  what  it  whis- 
pers in  your  ear  concerning  the  precepts  God 
has  given  in  his  word:  listen  to  it  on  the  sight 
of  the  man  who  has  offended  you.  What  ani- 
mosity! wliat  detestation!  what  revenge!  Lis- 
ten to  it  in  prosperity.  What  ambition!  what 
pride!  what  arrogance!  Listen  to  it  when  we 
exhort  you  to  humility,  to  patience,  to  charity. 
What  evasions!  what  repugnance!  what  e.xcuses! 
From  the  study  of  your  own  heart,  proceed 
to  that  of  others.  Examine  the  infancy,  the 
life,  the  death  of  man.  In  his  infancy  you 
will  see  the  fatal  germ  of  his  corruption;  sad, 
but  sensible  proof  of  the  depravity  of  your  na- 
ture, an  alarming  omen  of  the  future.  You 
will  see  him  prone  to  evil  from  his  very  cradle, 
indicating  from  his  early  years  the  seeds  of 
every  vice,  and  giving  from  the  arms  of  the 
nurses  that  suckle  him,  preludes  of  all  the  ex- 
cesses into  which  he  will  fall  as  soon  as  his  ca- 
pacity is  able  to  aid  his  corruption.  Contem- 
plate him  in  mature  age;  see  what  connexions 
he  forms  with  his  associates!  Connexions  of 
ambition;  connexions  of  avarice;  connexions 
of  cupidity.  Look  at  him  in  the  hour  of 
death,  and  you  will  see  him  torn  from  a  world 
from  which  he  cannot  detach  his  heart,  regret- 
ting even  the  objects  which  have  constituted 
his  crimes,  and  carrying  to  the  tomb,  if  I  may 
so  speak,  the  very  passions  which,  during  life, 
have  divided  the  empire  of  his  soul. 

After  studying  man,  study  the  Scriptures: 
there  you  will  see  that  God  has  pledged  the 
infallibility  of  his  testimony  to  convince  us  of 
a  truth,  to  which  our  presumption  scrupled  to 
subscribe.     It  will  say,  that  "  you  were  con- 


say,  that  "  in  you;  that  is,  in  your  flesh,  dwell- 
cth  no  good  thing."  It  will  say,  that  "this 
flesh  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God;  neither 
indeed  can  be."  It  will  say,  that  you  carry 
within  you,  "a  law  in  your  members,  which 
wars  aofainst  tlie  law  of  your  mind;  a  flesh 
which  lusleth  against  the  spirit."  It  will  tell 
you,  tliat  man  in  regard  to  tlie  conditions  of 
his  salvation  is  a  stock,  a  stone,  a  nothing;  that 
he  is  blind  and  dead.  It  would  be  easy  to 
swell  the  list!  It  would  be  easy  indeed,  but  in 
adducing  to  you  tliose  pas.sages  of  Scripture  on 
whicfi  we  found  the  sad  doctrine  of  natural  de- 
pravity, I  observe  the  caution  already  laid 
down,  of  preferring  in  the  selection,  a  small 
number  of  conclusive  passages,  to  the  produc- 
tion of  a  multitude.  Nature  being  so  far  cor- 
rupted, man  cannot,  without  the  aids  of  grace- 
conform  to  the  conditions  of  his  salvation. 

Here  is  the  first  thing  you  ought  to  know, 
and  the  first  thing  you  ought  to  do;  it  is,  to 
feel  your  weakness  and  inability;  to  humble 
and  abase  yourselves  in  presence  of  the  holy 
God;  to  cry  from  the  abyss  into  which  you  are 
plunged,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who 
shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death!" 
Rom.  vii.  24.  It  is  to  groan  under  the  depra- 
vity of  sin.  O  glory  of  primitive  innocence, 
whitiier  art  thou  fled!  O  happy  period,  in  which 
man  was  naturally  prompted  to  believe  what  is 
true,  and  to  love  what  is  amiable,  why  art  thou 
so  quickly  vanished  away!  Let  us  not  deplore 
the  curse  on  the  ground;  the  infection  of  air; 
nor  the  animals  destined  for  the  service  of  man, 
that  now  turn  their  fury  against  him;  let  us 
rather  deplore  our  disordered  faculties;  our  be- 
clouded reason,  and  our  perverted  will. 

2.  But  however  great,  however  invincible, 
the  corruption  of  all  men  may  be,  there  is  a 
wide  difierence  between  him  who  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  revelation,  and  him  to  whom  it  is 
denied.     This  is  the  second  thing  you  ought  to 
know  on  the  subject  we  discuss;  and  this  se- 
cond point  of  speculation  is  a  second  source  of 
practice.     Do  not  apply  to  Christians  born  in 
the  Church,  and  acquainted  with  revelation, 
portraits  which  the  holy  Scriptures  give  solely 
to  those  who  are  born  in  pagan  darkness.     I 
am   fully  aware  that   revelation,   unattended 
with  the  supernatural  aids  of  grace,  is  inade- 
quate for  a  man's  conversion.     The  preceding 
article  is  sufficient  to  prove  it.    I  know  that  all 
men  are  naturally    "  dead   in   trespasses  and 
sins."     It  is  evident,  however,  that  this  death 
has  its  degrees:  and  that  the  impotency  of  a 
man,  favoured  with  revelation,  is  not  of  the 
same  kind  as  that  of  him  who  is  still  in  pagan 
dai;kness.     It  is  equally  manifest,  that  a  man, 
who,  after  having  heard  the  doctrine  of  the 
gospel,  grovels  in  the  same  sort  of  error  and  of 
vice  into  which  he  was  impetuously  drawn  by 
his  natural  depravity,  is  incomparably  more 
guilty  than  he  who  never  heard  the  gospel. 
Hear  what  Jesus  Christ  says  of  those  who,  hav- 
ing heard  the  gospel,  and  who  had  not  availed 
themselves  of  its  aids  to  forsake  their  error  and 
vice;  "  Had  I  not  come  and  spoken  unto  them, 
they  had  not  had  sin;  but  now  they  have  no 
cloak  for  their  sin."     Here  is  the  second  thing 
you  ought  to  know;  hence  the  second   thing 
you  ought  to  do,  is,  not  to  shelter  yourselves, 


ceived  in  sin,  and  shapen  in  iniquity."    It  will  I  with  a  view  to  extenuate  voluntary  depravity. 


398 


ON  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  XCVIII. 


under  certain  passages  of  Scripture,  which  ex- 
claim not  against  the  impotency  of  a  Christian, 
but  against  that  of  a  man  wiio  is  still  in  pagan 
darkness;  you  must  apply  the  general  assertion 
of  Jesus  Christ  to  all  the  exterior  cares  that 
have  been  taken  to  promote  your  conversion: 
"  If  I  liad  not  come  and  spoken  unto  them, 
they  had  not  had  sin;  but  now  tliey  have  no 
cloak  for  their  sin."  O  my  soul,  with  what 
humiliating  ideas  should  those  words  of  the 
Lord  strike  thee!  If  God  had  not  come;  if  he 
had  not  made  thee  to  suck  truth  and  virtue 
with  thy  mother's  milk;  if  he  had  not  raised 
thee  up  masters  in  thy  youth,  and  ministers  in 
thy  riper  age;  if  thou  iiadst  not  heard  so  many 
instructive  and  patlietic  sermons,  and  read  so 
many  instructive  and  affecting  books;  if  thou 
hadst  not  been  pressed  by  a  thousand  and  a 
thousand  calls,  thou  hadst  not  had  sin;  at  least 
thou  mightest  have  exculpated  thyself  on  the 
ground  of  thy  ignorance  and  natural  depravity; 
but  now  thou  art  "without  excuse."  O  un- 
happy creature,  what  years  has  God  tutored 
thee  in  his  church!  What  account  canst  thou 
give  of  all  his  care!  Now  tliou  art  "  without 
excuse."  Here  is  the  way  we  should  study 
ourselves,  and  not  lose  sight  of  the  precaution, 
not  to  sap  morality  under  a  plea  of  establish- 
ing this  part  of  our  theology. 

3.  The  aids  which  man  is  unable  to  draw 
either  from  the  wreck  of  nature  or  from  exte- 
rior revelation,  are  promised  to  him  in  the  gos- 
pel: he  may  attain  tliem  by  the  operations  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  TlianKs  be  to  God  this  con- 
solatory proposition  is  supported  by  express 
passages  of  Scripture;  by  passages  the  most 
conclusive,  according  to  our  first  precaution. 
"What  else  is  the  import  of  the  thirty-first  chap- 
ter of  Jeremiah's  prophecies.'  "  Heboid  the 
days  come,  saith  tiio  Lord,  tiiat  I  will  make  a 
new  covenant  witii  the  house  of  Israel,  and 
with  the  house  of  Judah. — This  shall  be  the 
covenant  that  I  will  make  with  them:  I  will 
put  my  law  in  their  inward  parts,  and  write  it 
in  their  hearts."  What  else  is  the  import  of 
the  thirty-sixth  cliapter  of  Ezekiel's  prophecies.' 
*'  I  will  sprinkle  clean  water  upon  you;  I  will 
give  you  a  new  heart;  I  will  put  a  new  spirit 
within  you."  What  else  is  the  import  of  St. 
James'  words  in  the  first  chapter  of  his  general 
«pistle.'  "  If  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask 
of  God,  that  givcth  to  all  men  liberally,  and 
opbraideth  not.  And  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
words  of  my  text,  "  The  wind  bloweth  where 
it  hsteth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof, 
but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometii,  and  whi- 
ther it  goeth."  Hence  the  third  thing  tliat  we 
should  know,  and  the  third  thing  that  we  .sliquld 
do,  is,  to  bless  God  that  he  has  not  left  us  to 
the  weakness  of  nature;  it  is,  like  St.  Paul, 
"  to  give  thanks  to  God  through  Jesus  Christ," 
Rom.  i.  8;  it  is  to  ask  of  him  tiiose  continual 
supports,  without  which  "  we  can  do  nothing." 
It  is  often  to  say  to  him,  "  O  God,  draw  us, 
and  we  will  run  after  thee.  Create  in  us  a 
clean  heart,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
Ufl,"  Cant.  i.  8;  I's.  li.  12. 

4.  But  is  it  sufficient  to  pray.'  Is  it  enough 
to  ask?  We  have  said  in  the  foarlh  place,  tliat 
though  a  man  may  bo  unable  to  draw  from 
frail  nature,  and  exterior  revelation,  the  Tcqm- 
site  aids  to  conform  to  the  conditions  of  his  sal- 


vation; he  has  no  right  to  presume  on  the  grace 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  while  he  obstinately  resists 
the  aids  wiiif  li  frail  nature,  and  revelation  af- 
ford. But  here  we  seem  to  forget  one  of  the 
maxims  already  laid  down,  and  wiiat  we  our- 
selves have  advanced;  that  if  it  is  requisite  for 
me  to  fulfil  the  conditions  with  which  the  gos- 
pel has  connected  salvation,  how  can  I  do 
otherwise  tiian  obstinately  resist  the  efforts 
which  frail  nature,  and  exterior  revelation  af- 
ford.' This  difficulty  is  but  in  appearance.  To 
know,  whether  wlien  abandoned  to  our  natural 
depravity,  and  aided  only  by  exterior  revela- 
tion, we  can  conform  to  the  conditions  of  the 
gospel;  or  whether,  when  abandoned  to  the 
depravity  of  nature,  and  aided  only  by  exterior 
revelation,  we  are  invincibly  impelled  to  every 
species  of  crime,  are  two  very  different  ques- 
tions. That  we  cannot  perform  the  conditions 
of  salvation,  I  readily  allow;  but  that  we  are 
invincibly  impelled  to  every  species  of  crime, 
is  insupportable.  Whence  then  came  the  dif- 
ference between  heathen  and  heathen,  between 
Fabricius  and  Lucullus,  between  Augustus  and 
Sylla,  between  Nero  and  Titus,  between  Com- 
modus  and  Antony?  Whatever  you  are  able  to 
do  by  your  natural  strength,  and  especially 
when  aided  by  the  light  of  revelation,  do  it,  if 
you  wish  to  have  any  well-founded  hope  of  ob- 
taining the  supernatural  aids,  without  which 
you  cannot  fulfil  the  conditions  of  your  salva- 
tion. But  the  Scriptures  declare,  you  say,  that 
without  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit  you  can 
do  nothing,  and  that  you  can  have  no  real  vir- 
tue but  what  participates  of  your  natural  cor- 
ruption: I  allow  it;  but  practice  the  virtues 
which  participate  of  your  natural  corruption, 
if  you  would  wish  God  to  grant  you  his  divine 
aids.  Be  corrupt  as  Fabricius,  and  not  as  Lu- 
cullus; be  corrupt  as  Augustus,  and  not  as  Syl- 
la; be  corrupt  as  Titus,  and  not  as  Nero;  as  An- 
tonius,  and  not  as  Commodus.  One  of  the 
grand  reasons  why  God  withiiolds  from  some 
men  the  aids  of  grace,  is,  because  they  resist 
the  aids  they  might  derive  from  their  frail  na- 
ture. Here  the  theology  of  St.  Paul,  and  the 
decision  of  that  great  preceptor  in  grace,  im- 
poses silence  on  every  difliculty  of  which  this 
point  may  be  susceptible.  Speaking  of  the 
heathens  in  the  first  chapter  of  his  epistle  to 
the  Romans,  he  says,  "That  which  may  be 
known  of  God  is  manifested  in  them;"  or,  as  I 
would  rather  read,  is  manifest  to  them;  "  but 
because  that  when  they  knew  God,  they  glo- 
rified him  not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful," 
Rom.  i.  19 — 21.  "That  which  may  be  known 
of  God  is  manifested  unto  them;"  here  then  is 
the  aid  pagans  might  draw  from  the  ruins  of 
nature;  they  might  know  that  there  was  a  God; 
they  might  have  been  thankful  for  his  temporal 
gifts,  for  rain  and  fruitful  seasons;  and  instead 
of  the  infamous  idolatry  to  which  they  aban- 
don themselves,  they  might  have  seen  the  invi- 
sible things  of  God,  which  are  manifest  by  his 
work.  And  because  they  did  not  derive  those 
aids  from  the  ruins  of  nature,  they  became 
wholly  unworthy  of  divine  assistance;  "  God 
gave  them  up  to  uncleanness  through  the  lusts 
of  their  own  hearts.  — They  changed  the  truth 
of  God  into  a  lie,  and  worshipped  and  served 
the  creature  more  than  the  Creator,  who  is 
blessed  for  ever." 


Ser.  XCVIII.] 


ON  REGENERATION. 


899 


6.  Our  fifth  proposition  imports,  that  the  aids 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  promised  to  man  arc  gra- 
dually imparted;  lience,  to  misapply  the  grâce 
we  have,  is  the  most  dangerous  way  to  obstruct 
the  reception  of  fresh  support.  But  listen  to 
some  of  our  supralapsarians,  and  they  will  say, 
that  the  design  of  God  in  promising  tlicse  aids, 
is  to  assure  us  that  how  much  soever  we  sliall 
resist  one  measure  of  grace,  he  will  still  give  us 
a  greater  measure,  and  ever  proportion  the 
counterpoise  of  grace  to  tliat  of  a  deliberate, 
obstinate,  voluntary  enemy.  So  many  have 
understood  the  doctrine  of  our  clmrch  respect- 
ing irresistible  grace;  to  judge  of  it  consonant 
to  their  ideas,  this  grace  redoubles  its  etlbrts  as 
the  sinner  redoubles  his  revolts;  so  that  lie  who 
shall  throw  the  greatest  obstacles  in  its  way, 
shall  be  the  very  man  who  shall  have  the  fair- 
est claims  to  its  richest  profusion. 

Poor  Christians!  are  these  your  conceptions 
of  religion?  My  God!  is  it  thus  thy  gospel  is 
understood?  I  hope,  my  brethren,  tliat  not 
any  one  of  us  shall  have  cause  to  recognise 
himself  in  this  portrait;  for  1  am  bold  to  aver, 
that  of  all  the  most  heterodox  opinions,  and 
the  most  hostile  to  the  genius  of  the  gospel, 
the  one  1  have  just  put  into  the  mouth  of  cer- 
tain Christians,  is  that  which  really  surpasses 
them  all.  On  the  contrary,  he  who  opposes 
the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  operations  of 
grace,  is  precisely  tiie  man  who  must  expect 
the  smallest  share  of  it.  Grace  diminishes  its 
efforts  in  proportion  as  the  sinner  redoubles  his 
resistance.  Obstinate  revolt  against  its  first 
operations,  is  the  sure  way  to  be  deprived  of 
the  second;  and  liie  usual  cause  which  deprives 
us  of  it,  is  the  want  of  co-operation  with  its 
true  design. 

6.  We  are  now  come  to  the  last  proposi- 
tion, with  which  we  shall  close  this  discourse. 
However  unworthy  we  may  be  of  tiie  divine 
assistance,  and  wliatever  abuse  we  may  have 
made  of  it,  we  should  never  despair  of  its  aids. 
We  do  not  say  this  to  flatter  tlie  lukewarm- 
ness  of  man,  and  to  soot!)e  liis  sliameful  delay 
of  conversion;  on  the  contrary,  if  there  be  a 
doctrine  which  can  prompt  us  to  diligence;  if 
there  be  a  doctrine  which  can  induce  us  to  de- 
vote tiie  whole  time  of  our  life  to  the  work  of 
salvation,  it  is  the  one  we  have  just  announced 
in  this  discourse,  and  made  tlie  subject  of  our 
two  preceding  sermons.  We  have  considered 
three  points  in  the  conversation  of  Jesus  Ciirist 
with  Nicodemus;  the  nature,  the  necessity,  and 
the  .iutlior  of  the  "  new  birth."  And  what  is 
there  in  all  this  which  does  not  tend  to  sap 
the  delay  of  conversion? 

Let  each  of  you  recollect,  as  far  as  memory 
is  able,  what  Jesus  Christ  has  taught,  and 
what  we  have  tauglit  after  him,  on  the  subject 
of  regeneration.  This  work  does  not  consist 
in  a  certain  superficial  chanire  which  may  be 
made  in  a  moment:  in  that  case,  it  would  suf- 
fice to  have  a  skilful  physician,  and  to  com- 
mission him  to  warn  us  of  the  moment  when 
we  must  leave  the  world,  that  we  may  devote 
that  precise  moment  to  the  work  of  our  salva- 
tion. But  tlie  regeneration  whicli  Jesus  Ciirist 
requires,  is  an  entire  transformation;  a  cliange 
of  ideas,  a  change  of  desires,  a  change  of 
hopes,  a  change  of  taste,  a  change  in  the 
schemes  of  happiness.     How  then  does  the 


system  of  delaying  conversion  accord  with  this 
idea?  What  time  would  you  allow  for  this 
chanfre  and  reformation?  À  month?  a  week?  a 
day?  the  last  extremity  of  a  mortal  malady? 
What!  in  so  sliort  a  time  would  you  consum- 
mate a  work  to  which  the  longest  life  would 
hardly  suffice?  And  in  what  circumstances 
would  you  do  it!  In  delirium;  in  the  agonies 
of  death;  at  a  time  when  one  is  incapable  of 
the  smallest  application;  at  a  time  when  we 
can  scarce  admit  among  the  attendants,  a 
friend,  a  child,  whom  we  love  as  our  own  life; 
at  a  time  when  the  smallest  business  appears 
as  a  world  of  difficulty? 

But  if  what  we  have  now  said,  after  this 
"  teacher  come  from  God,"  on  the  nature  of 
regeneration,  has  begun  to  excite  some  scru- 
ples in  j-our  mind  concerning  the  plan  of  de- 
laying conversion,  let  each  of  you  recall,  as 
far  as  he  is  able,  what  Jesus  Christ  has  said, 
and  what  we  have  said,  following  him,  con- 
cerning the  necessity  of  regeneration:  for  since 
you  are  obliged  to  confess  that  regeneration 
cannot  be  tlie  work  of  the  last  moments  of 
life,  I  ask,  on  what  ground  you  found  the  sys- 
tem of  delaying  converiion?  Do  you  flatter 
yourselves  tliat  God  will  be  so  far  satisfied 
with  your  superficial  efforts  towards  regenera- 
tion, as  to  excuse  the  genuine  change?  Do 
you  hope  that  this  general  declaration  of  the 
Saviour,  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God,"  shall  have  an  exception 
with  regard  to  you?  have  then  the  reflections 
we  made  in  our  second  discourse  against  this 
cliimerical  notion,  made  no  impression  on  you? 
Do  we  preacii  to  rational  beings?  or  do  we 
preach  to  stocks  and  stones?  Have  ye  not 
perceived  tiiat  regeneration  is  founded  on  the 
genius  of  the  gospel;  and  that  every  doctrine 
of  it  is  comprised  in  tlie  proposition,  "  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born 
airain,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 
It  is  founded  on  the  nature  of  man,  and  on 
the  proposed  design  of  Jesus  Christ  to  make 
him  happy;  and  the  acquisition  of  this  end 
would  imply  a  contradiction,  if  a  man  should 
revolt  at  the  change  and  the  reformation;  be- 
cause, since  the  loss  of  primitive  innocence, 
our  state  is  become  our  calamity;  and  it  would 
imply  a  contradiction  that  we  should  be  de- 
livered from  our  calamity,  unless  we  should 
be  delivered  from  our  state.  It  is  founded  on 
the  nature  of  God  himself:  of  the  two,  God 
must  either  renounce  his  perfections,  or  we 
must  renounce  our  imperfections;  and  if  I  may 
dare  so  to  speak  of  my  Maker,  God  must 
either  regenerate  himself,  or  we  must  regene- 
rate ourselves.  . 

Upon  what  then  do  you  found  your  hopes 
of  conversion  on  a  death-bed?  Upon  the  aids 
of  that  grace  without  which  you  never  can  be 
converted?  But  does  the  manner  in  which  we 
have  just  described  those  aids,  afford  you  any 
hope  of  obtaining  them,  when  you  shall  have 
obstinately  and  maliciously  resisted  them  to 
the  end? 

Meanwhile,  I  maintain  my  last  proposition; 
I  maintain  that  however  unworthy  you  may 
have  rendered  yourselves  of  divine  aid,  you 
ought  never  to  despair  of  obtaining  it.  Yes, 
though  you  should  have  resisted  the  Holy 


400 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  xcvin. 


Ghost  to  the  end  of  life;  though  you  should 
have  but  one  hour  to  live,  devote  it;  call  in 
your  ministers;  oHer  up  prayers,  and  take  the 
kinffdoin  of  heaven  by  violence!  We  will  not 
deprive  you  of  this  the  only  hope  wijich  can 
remain:  we  will  not  cxnludc  you  from  the  final 
avenues  of  grace.  Perliaps  your  last  etibrts 
may  have  etfect;  perhaps  your  prayers  shall 
be  heard;  perhaps  the  Holy  Spirit  will  give 
effect  to  the  exhortations  of  his  ministers;  and, 
to  say  all  in  a  single  word,  perhaps  God  will 
work  a  miracle  in  your  favour,  and  deviate 
from  the  rules  he  is  accustomed  to  follow  in 
the  conversion  of  other  men. 

Perhaps;  ah!  my  brethren,  how  little  con- 
solation does  this  word  afford  in  the  great 
events  of  life;  and  less  consolation  still  when 
applied  to  our  salvation!  Perhaps;  al<,!  how 
little  is  that  word  capable  of  consoling  a  soul 
when  it  has  to  contend  with  death.  My  bre- 
thren, we  can  never  consent  to  make  your 
salvation  depend  on  a  perhaps;  we  cannot  see 
that  you  would  have  any  other  hope  of  salva- 
tion than  that  of  a  man,  vviio  throws  himself 
from  a  tower;  a  man  actually  descending  in 
the  air,  that  may  be  Saved  by  a  miracle,  but 
he  has  so  many  causes  to  fear  the  contrary. 
We  cannot  see  that  you  would  have  any  other 
ground  of  hope  than  tliat  of  a  man  who  is 
under  the  axe  of  the  executioner,  whose  arm 
is  uplifted,  which  may  indeed  be  held  by  a 
celestial  hand;  but  how  many  reasons  excite 
alarm  that  he  will  strike  the  fatal  blow!  We 
would  wish  to  be  able  to  say  to  each  of  you, 
"  fear  not,"  Mark  v.  30.  We  would  wisli 
that  each  of  you  could  say  to  himself,  "  I 
know;  I  am  persuaded;"  2  Tim.  i.  \1.  Second 
our  wishes:  labour;  pray;  pray  without  ceas- 
ing; labour  during  the  whole  of  life.  This  is 
the  only  means  of  producing  that  gracious  as- 
surance and  delightful  persuasion.  May  God 
bless  3'our  efforts,  and  hear  our  prayers.  Amen. 
To  whom  be  honour  and  glory  for  ever.  Amen 


SERMON  XCVIII. 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 

PART    III. 
[now  first  translated.] 


John  iii.  5 — 7. 
Jesva  answered,  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
except  a  man  be  born  of  water,  and  of  the  Spirit, 
he  canriot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.   That 
which  is. born  of  the  flesh  is  flesh,   and   that 
xohich  is  bom  of  the  Spirit  is  spirit.     Marvel 
not  that  I  said  unto  thee,  ye  must  be  bom  again. 
It  is  a  sublime  idea  that  the  prophets  give 
of  the  change  which  the  preaching  of  the  gos- 
pel should   effectuate  in  the  earth,  when  they 
represent  it  under  the  figure  of  a  new  crea- 
tion: "  Bcliold   1    create  new  heavens,  and  a 
new  eartli;  and  the  former  things  shall  not  be 
remembered,"  Isa.  Ixv.  17.     These  new  hea- 
vens, and  this  new  earth,  my  brethren,  must 
have  new  inhabitants.     It  would  imply  an  ab- 
surdity for  God  to  unite  the  disorders  of  the 
old  world  with  the  felicities  of  the  new  crea- 


tion. "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new 
creature;  old  things  are  past  away,  and  behold 
all  things  are  become  new,"  2  Cor.  v.  17. 

This  was  the  change  which  Jesus  Christ  an- 
nounced to  Nicodemus,  though  the  Rabbi  could 
not  comprehend  it.  How  explicit  soever  the 
declarations  of  the  prophets  had  been  on  this 
subject;  however  familiar  their  style  wasainong 
the  Jews,  regeneration,  to  regenerate  a  new 
man,  were  terms  whose  im|)ort  Nicodemus 
could  not  distinguish.  He  flattered  himself 
that  it  sufficed  for  admission  into  the  commu- 
nion of  the  Messiah,  to  acknowledge  the  au- 
thenticity of  his  mission,  the  sublimity  of  his 
doctrine,  and  the  superiority  of  his  miracles. 
"  Rabbi,  we  know  that  thou  art  a  teacher 
come  from  God,  for  no  man  can  do  those  mira- 
cles that  tliou  dost,  except  God  be  with  him." 
He  hoped  that  this  avowal  would  conciliate 
the  esteem  of  Jesus  Christ,  while  it  equally 
preserved  that  of  the  Jews.  He  flattered  him- 
self with  having  found  the  just  mean  of 
distinction  between  that  of  his  persecutors, 
and  his  disciples.  Jesus  Christ  undeceived  him 
in  the  words  upon  which  our  discourse  must 
devolve.  No,  no,  said  he;  God  requires  no 
such  conduct;  to  him  all  accommodations  are 
odious;  you  must  choose,  either  to  perish  with 
those  who  fight  against  me,  or  become  reno- 
vated with  those  who  account  it  their  glory  to 
fight  under  my  stewards.  "  Verily,  verily,  I 
say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born  again,  he 
cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  Marvel  not 
that  I  said  unto  thee,  Ye  must  be  born  again. 
Art  thou  a  doctor  of  the  law,  and  knoweat 
thou  not  tliese  tilings?" 

We  said  sometime  ago,  that  one  must  not 
confound  the  change  which  the  gospel  requires 
of  a  weak  and  diffident  Christian,  with  tliat 
which  it  requires  of  a  man  who  has  not  as  yet 
embraced  religion,  as  it  would  be  wrong  to  say 
of  some  who  hear  us,  and  who,  notwithstand- 
ing their  weakness  and  diffidence,  are  really 
members  of  Christ,  that  they  shall  not  enter 
the  kingdom  of  God,  unless  they  are  born 
again.  But  can  we  doubt,  that  among  the 
many  who  compose  the  circles  of  Ciiristian 
society,  among  the  many  who  compose  this 
congregation,  there  are  many  who  are  in  the 
error  of  Nicodemus?  Can  we  doubt  that  many 
of  you  also,  like  this  doctor,  still  divide  your- 
selves between  God  and  the  world;  and  who 
flatter  themselves  to  have  the  essence  of  Chris- 
tianity, when  they  have  but  the  exterior  name. 
It  is  to  men  of  this  class,  that  we  address  our- 
selves in  this  discourse.  We  proceed  conforma- 
bly to  the  example  of  our  great  Master  to 
make  an  effort  to  open  their  eyes,  and  show 
them  the  inutility  of  this  semi-Christianity  to 
which  their  views  are  circumscribed;  and  de- 
clare, "verily,  verily,  except  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of  God." 

It  is  thus  we  shall  continue  the  execution  of 
the  plan  formed  in  our  first  discourse.  We 
there  remarked  three  things  in  the  conversa- 
tion of  Jesus  Christ  with  Nicodemus:  the  na- 
ture of  regeneration;  the  necessity  of  regenera- 
tion; and  the  .author  of  regeneration.  The 
first  of  these  articles  we  have  already  discuss- 
ed: we  now  proceed  to  the  second;  and  relying 
on  the  aids  of  God  already  implored,  and 
which  we  stiJl  implore  with  all   the  powers 


Ser.  XCVIII.] 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  IlEGENERATiON. 


401 


of  our  souls,  wo  proceed  to  enforce  the  neces- 
sity of  regeneration,  wliose  nature  and  charac- 
ters we  have  already  described. 

Wo  take  it  for  granted,  that  this  expression 
80  familiar  in  our  Scriptures,  "  the  kingdom 
of  God,"  or  "  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  can- 
not be  wholly  unknown  to  you.  The  Hebrews 
substitute  heaven  for  God  (and  this  mode  of 
speaking  is  common  enough  in  all  languages;) 
hence  come  the  expressions  which  abound  in 
our  writings,  the  aids  of  Heaven  for  tlio  aids 
of  God;  and  death  inflicted  by  tiie  hand  of 
Heaven,  for  the  hand  of  God.  Juwt  so,  the 
kingdom  of  heaveu,  and  the  kingdom  of  God, 
are  two  phrases  j)romiscuously  used  in  the 
New  Testament.  I  forl)ear  more  te.\ts,  which 
would  only  waste  the  time  destined  for  truths 
more  important  and  more  controverted. 

Now,  this  expression,  "the  kingdom  of 
God,"  can  have  but  one  of  those  two  mean- 
ings, of  the  most  common  occurrence  in  our 
Scriptures.  It  may  signify  either  the  economy 
of  the  Messiah,  which  tho  prophet  Daniel  re- 
presents under  tho  idea  of  a  kingdom,  or  tho 
felicity  of  the  blessed.  The  first  is  the  import 
of  our  Saviour's  words,  Matthew  the  xiith; 
"  If  I  had  cast  out  devils  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
then  the  kingdom  of  God  is  come  unto  you." 
That  is  to  say,  if  I  have  received  of  God  the 
gift  of  miraculous  powers;  if  I  eject  demons 
by  the  power  of  God,  you  may  be  fully  assur- 
ed that  tho  Advent  of  the  Messiah,  which  you 
have  awaited  with  so  much  desire,  is  come 
unto  you;  it  being  impossible  that  God  should 
lend  his  Almighty  power  to  an  impostor. 

This  expression,  "  the  kingdom  of  God," 
signifies  also  the  state  of  the  blessed.  So  it 
must  be  understood  in  the  encomium  which 
our  Saviour  pronounced  on  the  great  faith  of  a 
heathen  centurion.  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  you, 
that  many  shall  come  from  the  east,  and  from 
the  west,  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham, 
and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven;" that  is,  many  of  those  gentiles  who  were 
then  "  without  God,  and  without  hope  in  the 
world,"  shall  be  admitted  with  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,  to  the  celestial  felicity,  re- 
presented in  our  Scriptures  by  the  idea  of  a 
feast.  We  think  ourselves  authorized  to  take 
this  expression  in  the  first  of  the  meanings  we 
here  just  assigned  it:  "  Except  a  man  be  born 
of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  he  shall  not  enter 
the  kingdom  of  God;"  that  is,  to  become  a 
member  of  the  church  of  Christ,  he  must  be 
born  again;  but  if  any  one  will  adhere  to  the 
latter  sense,  we  feel  no  interest  in  disputing 
the  point.  Jesus  Christ  requires  us  to  teach, 
that  his  comnmnion  affords  no  mean  of  attain- 
ing eternal  happiness,  but  that  of  regenera- 
tion. The  distinction  has  nothing  that  should 
stop  us:  to  have  named  it,  is  enough;  perhaps 
too  much. 

Let  us  come  at  once  to  tho  essential  point, 
and  prove  that  this  regeneration  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  become  a  Christian,  or  as  I  have 
said,  to  attain  to  celestial  happiness.  This  wc 
shall  prove  by  three  arguments. 

I.  The  first  is  taken  from  the  genius  of  the 
Christian  religion. 

n.  The  second  from  the  wants  of  man. 

III.  Tho  third  from  the  perfections  of  God. 

I.  From  the  genius  of  the  Cluistian  religion. 
Vol.  II.— 51 


All  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion, 
are  in  direct  opposition  to  the  principles  of  the 
unregenerate.  It  is  not  possible  to  embrace 
the  Christian  religion,  without  being  bom  again 
in  the  sense  we  iiave  given  to  this  expression. 
What  is  the  sense  given  to  this  figurative 
phrai<o,  born  again,  in  our  first  discourse?  In 
what  does  the  truth  of  the  metaphor  consist' 
A  change  of  ideas;  a  chamre  of  desires;  a 
change  of  taste;  a  change  of  hope;  a  change 
of  pursuits.  Examine  the  nature  of  tlie  Chris- 
tian religion,  and  you  will  at  once  see  that  its 
jirinciples  arc  directly  opposed  to  those  of  the 
uiiregenerale;  and  that  the  religion  of  a  man 
which  rejects  conversion  as  to  any  one  of  these 
five  points,  be  it  which  it  may,  is  a  religion  di- 
rectly opposed  to  that  of  Jesus  Christ. 

1.  The  religion  of  a  man  who  rejects  a 
change  of  ideas  is  a  religion  directly  opposed 
to  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  change  of  ideas 
here  in  question,  consists,  as  already  explained, 
not  indeed  in  the  renunciation  of  reason,  but 
in  a  persuasion  that  the  best  possible  use  a  ra- 
tional being  can  make  of  reason,  is  to  allow  it 
to  lead  him  to  God,  who  is  the  source  of  all 
intelligence.  Now,  it  is  demonstrated^  by  the 
nature  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  without 
this  disposition  of  mind,  no  man  can  be  a 
Christian. 

The  Christian  religion  teaches  us  two  sorts 
of  truths,  some  whicli  lie  open  to  our  ideas, 
and  which  the  mind  of  man  may  discover  by 
its  own  efforts;  but  which  on  the  coming  of 
Jesus  Christ  were  so  beclouded  with  obscurity, 
and  with  innumerable  prejudices,  as  to  require 
energies  almost  more  than  human  to  penetrate 
them.  Such  were  the  doctrines  of  a  provi- 
dence, the  immortality  of  the  soul,  a  judgment, 
a  future  state,  and  some  others.  The  object 
of  the  Christian  religion  has  been  to  substitute 
divine  authority  for  that  of  discussion.  You 
cannot  fully  demonstrate  the  doctrine  of  a  pro- 
vidence, because  of  the  obscurity  in  which  it 
is  involved.  This  doctrine  is  decided  in  the 
gospel:  hear  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  The 
hairs  of  your  head  are  numbered:  God  feeds  the 
ravens;  a  sparrow  fails  not  to  tiie  ground  with- 
out his  will."  You  cannot  fully  demonstrate 
the  doctrines  of  the  immoitality  of  the  soul, 
and  of  a  future  state,  because  of  the  darkness 
in  which  they  are  enveloped.  Jesus  Christ 
has  decided  these  points.  Hear  his  words: 
"  The  wicked  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
fire,  but  tho  righteous  into  life  eternal."  It  is 
the  same  with  regard  to  other  doctrines.  In 
this  respect,  it  seems  quite  clear  to  me,  that 
tho  principles  of  the  unregenerate  are  incom- 
patible with  the  design  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion. Because  its  designs  on  all  these  points 
being  to  supply  by  authority  that  of  discussion, 
no  man  can  be  a  Christian  who  does  not  sub- 
mit to  the  authority  by  which  they  are  decid- 
ed. The  temper  of  a  man  who  will  beheve 
nothing,  admit  nothing,  but  what  can  be  de- 
monstrated by  the  efforts  of  his  own  mind,  is 
directly  opposed  to  the  design  of  the  Cliris- 
tian  religion;  hence,  on  this  point,  a  man  must 
bo  born  again  before  he  can  enter  the  kingdom 
of  God:  the  religion  of  the  unregenerate,  and 
that  of  the  Christian,  are  not  only  different, 
but  directly  opposed. 

The  second  order  of  truths  revealed  by  the 


402 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  KEGENEIIATION. 


[Ser.  XCVIII. 


Christian  rclijjioii  are  altogetiicr  above  tlio 
sphere  of  the  liuniaii  uiulorstaudinjr,  and  wliich 
our  reason  woiiKl  never  liave  liiscovered, 
tliough  it  liad  been  peitectly  exempted  from 
error  and  prejudice.  Siieh  are  all  those  that 
relate  to  tlie  means  (Jod  lia»  clioseii  fur  tlic  re- 
demption of  tiic  human  liind.  God  alone 
could  reveal  tliose,  heeau:<e  none  but  God 
could  know  what  he  liad  clioscn.  Tliis  is  the 
doctrine  of  all  tiie  sacred  authors;  it  is  par- 
ticularly that  of  St.  I'aul,  in  tiic  second  cha|i- 
ter  of  his  first  K|)istle  to  the  Corinthians. 
"  The  wisdom  tliat  we  preacii,"  he  says,  "  is 
not  the  wisdom  of  liiis  world,  nor  of  the  princes 
of  this  world:"  (liy  the  princes  of  this  world  1 
here  understand  doctors  of  the  first  rank,  whe- 
ther they  were  llal)l)ins,  wlhitli  in  Hebrew 
means  masters,  or  wiiellier  ])rinces  imports 
philosophers,)  "but  we  8|)cak  the  hidden  wis- 
dom ol  God  in  a  mystery;"  that  is,  hiihlcn. 
Why  is  this  the  wisdom  of  God?  Why  is  it  a 
mystery.'  Because  none  but  tiic  God  who  had 
formed  it  could  have  discovered  it,  and  no  man 
could  reason  out  tiiose  things  by  the  ellbrts  of 
his  own  understanding.  The  apostle  adds, 
these  ate  the  things,  "  that  eye  hatli  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard;  neither  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man,  the  things  that  God  hath  ])rc- 
pared  for  them  that  love  him:"  tiiat  is  to  say, 
these  are  plans  of  God's  sovereign  jjleasurc, 
in  favour  of  the  faitliful.  Now,  the  jilans 
which  God  had  formed  by  his  sovereign  plea- 
sure, the  "  things  svhicii  had  not  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man,  God  hath  revealed  to  us  by 
his  Spirit;  by  the  Spirit  which  searchetli  the 
deep  tilings  of  God,"  and  most  impenetrable 
to  man;  as  the  mind  of  man  is  conscious  of  its 
own  designs,  and  most  impenetrable  to  otiiers. 
"  For  what  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man, 
save  the  spirit  of  man  which  is  in  him;  even 
BO,  the  things  of  God  knoweth  no  man  save 
the  Spirit  of  God." 

The  design  of  the  gospel  with  regard  to 
truths  of  the  second  order  has  been  to  substi- 
tute authority  for  reason,  to  substitute  the  de- 
cisions of  Jesus  Christ  for  the  natural  weak- 
ness of  man,  who  is  inadc(iuate  to  discover 
these  things.  One  cannot  tiiereforc  be  a  Chris- 
tian unless  one  bow  down  to  divine  authority. 
By  consequence,  to  be  a  Ciiristian  one  must  be 
bom  again,  and  cii-.inge  our  ideas;  hence  tiie 
religion  of  the  unrcgenerate,  and  that  of  a 
Christian  are  not  only  different,  but  incom- 
patible. 

What  we  have  said  on  the  change  of  ideas 
we  equally  alTirm  with  regard  to  the  other 
changes,  in  which  wo  have  made  the  nature 
of  regeneration  to  consist:  but  the  limits  of 
our  time,  and  the  importance  of  the  subjects, 
which  remain  for  discussion,  ])revenl  our  prov- 
ing it  in  all  its  extent. 

2.  An  unregenerate  man  follows  his  own 
will,  and  admits  no  rule  of  conduct,  but  that 
of  his  passions.  He  becomes  attached  to  vir- 
tue, when  it  may  happen  to  be  in  unison  with 
his  humour,  with  his  disposition,  with  his 
worldly  interests.  But  these  principles  are 
wholly  inoompatil)lo  with  those  of  a  Christian, 
who  has  vowed,  on  embrac-ing  Christianity,  to 
renounce  his  own  will,  und  to  acknowledge  no 
rule  of  conduct  but  the  laws  of  Christ;  and  to 
become  attached  tu  holiness,  whotiier  it  may 


bo  coincident  or  revolting  to  his  humour,  lùs 
dispor>ition,  and  his  temporal  interests. 

3.  An  unregenerate  man  has  no  taste  but 
for  the  pleasures  of  the  age.  Jiut  this  princi- 
ple is  incompatible  with  the  principles  of  our 
religion,  which  is  designated  to  purify  our 
taste,  and  render  us  alive  to  pleasures  more 
worthy  of  the  excellence  of  the  soul. 

•t.  An  unregenerate  man  founds  his  hopes 
on  second  causes;  on  the  favour  of  the  great, 
on  the  course  of  the  winds,  on  the  fertility  of 
fields,  on  the  prosperity  of  trade.  But  these 
principles  arc  incompatible  with  the  design  of 
our  holy  religion,  which  prompts  us  to  found 
our  hopes  solely  on  the  Divine  favour,  and  ele- 
vate the  soul  above  dependence  on  all  created 
good. 

5.  An  unrcgenerate  man  forms  projects  of 
terrestrial  happiness.  He  says,  as  the  world- 
lings in  the  4th  I'salm,  Who  will  make  "  our 
corn  and  wine  to  increase?"  Who  will  aug- 
ment our  revenues?  Who  will  amplify  our 
fortunes?  Who  will  give  us  the  lustre  of  a 
name,  and  the  glare  of  reputation?  WMio  will 
gratify  this  mad  ambition  which  absorbs  the 
soul,  and  prompts  us  to  trample  on  our  species, 
and  look  on  men  who  have,  in  common  with 
ourselves,  the  same  Creator,  the  same  faculties, 
the  same  grandeur,  and  tiie  same  baseness,  as 
diminutive  worms  unworthy  of  our  regards. 
But  these  principles  arc  incompatible  witli  our 
holy  religion,  whose  grand  design  is  to  inspire 
us  with  the  sentiments  of  confiding  in  God 
alone  the  care  of  our  happiness,  how  difhcult 
soever  tlic  road  may  appear  in  which  he  calls 
us  to  walk. 

11.  We  have  proved  from  the  nature  of  our 
holy  religion  that  to  be  a  Christian,  we  must 
be  born  again;  let  us  now  prove  it  by  what  is 
requisite  for  the  happiness  of  man;  let  us 
prove,  that  God  in  giving  us  a  religion  which 
appeared  so  rigorous,  has  not  acted  as  a  tyrant, 
but  as  a  lenient  legislator,  and  a  compassionate 
Father,  whoso  sole  design  was  to  provide  for 
tlie  wants  of  his  creatures.  This  ajipears  at 
first  insupportable.  It  seems  that  the  love  of 
God  would  have  shone  in  the  gospel  with  quite 
a  diftcrent  lustre  iiad  it  been  his  pleasure  to  ex- 
en'ise  over  us  a  sovereignty  less  despotic;  had 
he  hift  us  the  uncontrolled  disposal  of  our  fa- 
cnllies,  and  had  he  been  mindful  to  dispense 
with  tiiose  renovations  which  cost  so  much  to 
tlie  flesh.  I  am  confident,  however,  of  demon- 
strating to  you,  that  had  God  relaxed  any  part 
of  this  pretended  rigour,  he  must  have  re- 
trenciied  it  from  your  happiness. 

The  hapjiinessof  man  demands  that  religion 
should  eflectuate  a  change  in  his  ideas  in  the 
sense  already  explained;  the  happiness  of  man 
demands  that  Jesus  Christ  himself  should  con- 
descend to  exercise  a  scivereign  control  over 
our  reason,  and  himself  decide  whatever  we 
ought  to  believe  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
To  the  proof  of  tins  we  now  proceed. 

One  of  the  most  dangerous,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  most  cruel,  dispositions  of  the  mind, 
is  to  revoke  in  doubt  the  fundamental  truths 
of  religion.  Assuredly  this  is  one  of  the  most 
dangerous,  for  that  doubt  plunges  us  into  one 
abyss  after  another.  The  speculative  truths 
of  religion  are  the  basis  on  which  the  practical 
are  supported.     The  basis  of  this  practical 


Ser.  XCVIII.j 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


403 


truth,  that  we  must  detest  injustice,  is  a  belief  I  undertaking  it,  and  reduces  mo  to  an  inoapa 
that  there  is  a  Cod  who  detests  it.     If  you    bilily  of  disc-liari/injT  it 


licsitatc  will»  rejrard  to  the  spceulative  truth, 
that  tlicro  is  a  God  who  detests  injustice,  you 
\v\\[  hcsibitn  Willi  regard  to  tlie  practical  truth, 
tlial  we  ought  to  detest  injustice. — Tiie  foiuida- 
tion  of  this  jiractical  truth,  that  we  ougiit  not 
to  love  the  world,  devoIv<;s  on  the  speculative 
trulli,  that  the  frii'iidsiiip  of  this  world  draws 
down  the  eiiinity  of  God.  If  liicn  you  shouhl 
hi'siltite  with  regard  to  tiie  s])eculalivo  truth, 
tiiat  the  friendship  of  this  world  attracts  the 
euMiity  of  God,  you  would  hesitate  with  re- 
gard to  the  practical  truth  tluat  we  ought  not 
to  love  the  world,  Jam.  iv.  4. 

lîut  it  is  equally  cruel  as  dangerous,  to  che- 
rish douhts  with  regard  to  the  fundamental 
doctrines  of  religion.  You  do  not  feel  tiic 
cruelty  of  this  disposition,  now  that  you  have 
a  little  health,  a  little  strength,  and  a  share  of 
pros|)çrit.y;  you  consider  the  game  of  life  whicii 
you  play,  as  tho  most  important  subject  that 
can  occupy  your  mind:  hut  when  you  shall 
enter  into  yourselves;  when  you  shall  e.vtend 
your  views  beyond  your  senses,  and  tl>c  con- 
fined circle  of  surrounding  objects;  ah!  when 
you  shall  arrive  at  the  period  in  which  the 
world  shall  present  nothing  but  a  scene  about 
to  vanish  away;  Oh!  my  God!  how  cruel  will 
those  doubts  then  appear!  when  you  shall  be 
unable  to  satisfy  your  mind  on  those  most  im- 
portant inquiries.  Am  I  only  a  material  sub- 
stance, or  is  this  material  substance  uniteid  to  a 
spiritual  substance?  Will  this  spiritual  sub- 
stance to  which  my  body  is  united  lie  involved 
in  its  dissolution,  or  will  it  rise  above  its  ruins' 
Is  the  religion  to  which  I  have  adhered,  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  Christ,  or  is  it  the  religion  of 
anti-ehrist^ 

But  is  it  possible  for  one  to  avoid  a  disposi- 
tion so  dangerous  and  cruel  when  one  has  no 
otiicr  guide  in  the  theory  of  religion  than  one's 
own  ideas?     I  know  that  all  men  have  propen- 
sities to  religion  on  coming  into  the  world;  I 
know  that  "  the  gentiles  who  have  not  the  law, 
are  a  law  unto  themselves."     But  after  having 
seriously  meditated  on  the  confined  limits  of 
my  understanding,  on  the  force  of  my  preju- 
«lices,  on  the  rashness  of  my  decisions,  and  on  so 
many  other  truths  which  induce  me  to  distrust 
myself:  when  after  having  been  profoundly  en- 
gaged in  these  rettections,  1  find  myself  called 
upon  to  determine  by  my  own   light  on  the 
grand  question  of  religion;  when  I  transport 
myself  into  the  midst  of  all  those  sj'stems  to 
which  llie  imagination  of  men  has  given  birth: 
when  I  find  myself  called  upon  to  dissipate  all 
those  chaoses,  to  develope  all  those  sophisms, 
and  take  a  decided  part  among  so  many  con- 
troversies, and  learned  characters;  when  I  find 
myself,  as  before  stated,  left  to  determine  by 
my  own  elVorts  w'hether  the  soul  be  immortal, 
whether  there  be  a  I'rovidence;  and  especially 
when  I  say  to  myself,  that  on  tho  manner  in 
which   1    shall  determine  these  questions  my 
everla.sling  happiness  or  misery  depends,  that 
to   deceive  myself  is   to  destroy  myself,   and 
that  there  can  scarcely  he  a  mistake  on  these 
grand  points  which  may  not  be  fatal;  I  frankly 


In  this  state  .lusus  Christ  extends  to  me  his 
hand.  1  find  a  religion  which  demonstrates 
its  divine  authority  by  proofs  so  adapted  to  my 
capacity,  that  a  serious  attention,  aided  by  a 
moderate  capacity,  suffices  to  perceive  its  force. 
1  find  a  religion  which  guides  me  to  eternal 
life.  1  understand  this  truth  which  decides  on 
all  tiie  propositions,  on  whose  account  I  had 
doul)ts  so  cruel  and  dangerous:  this  truth  sub- 
stitutes, if  one  may  so  speak,  the  Spirit  of 
God  for  the  knowledge  of  man;  it  requires  that 
truths  so  important,  which  have  so  great  an  in- 
fiuence  on  my  hap[»iness,  shall  not  be  decided 
by  the  wisdom  of  man,  but  by  the  spirit  and 
wisdom  of  God.  Let  us  acknowledge  it,  my 
brethren,  let  us  acknowledge  that  there  is  no- 
thing more  assortable  to  tiio  wants  of  man 
than  a  religion  formed  on  this  plan;  there  is  no- 
thing wc  can  more  desire  than  the  like  tribunal; 
and  there  is  notliing  more  advantageous  than 
an  entire  submission  to  its  decisions. 

But  if  the  happiness  of  man  demand  that 
religion  should  require  a  change  of  his  ideas  in 
the  sense  we  have  explained,  it  equally  requires 
that  he  should  change  the  objects  of  his  pur- 
suits. What  men  could  wish,  as  most  advan- 
tageous, is,  that  Jesus  Christ  should  condescend 
to  leave  to  themselves  the  sole  care  of  their 
happiness.  Two  considerations  withhold  our 
assent  to  this  notion.  The ^rs(  is,  that  we  are 
not  sufficiently  aware  of  our  ignorance  when 
wc  form  imaginary  schemes  of  happiness;  the 
second  is,  that  we  have  no  idea  of  the  maimer 
in  which  the  Saviour  loves,  nor  in  what  re- 
spects he  really  loves  mankind. 

1.  Let  us  acknowledge  our  ignorance  with 
regard  to  the  schemes  of  happiness.  Do  we 
really  know  in  what  true  happiness  consists? 
we  who  do  not  know  ourselves;  we  who  do 
not  know  to  what  extent  tlic  faculties  of  the 
soul  may  be  improved;  we  who  know  not  of 
what  operations  an  intelligent  being  is  capable 
who  has  ideas  but  of  two  or  three  substances, 
and  who  wants  information  to  know,  whether 
there  are  ten  thousand  substances  besides  those 
we  know;  we  who  have  had  but  perception  of 
a  few  sensations,  and  who  could  not  form  any 
sort  of  notions  of  an  infinity  of  others;  of 
whose  attainment  our  souls  are  susceptible? 
Uo  wc  really  know  in  what  happiness  consists? 
We,  who  resemble  those  clowns  who  have 
never  gone  beyond  their  village  or  hamlet,  and 
who  affect  to  judge  of  poUteness,  of  high  life, 
of  courtly  airs,  of  polished  manners,  of  real 
grandeur,  conformably  to  tlie  ideas  formed  of 
them  in  those  hamlets  and  villages?  Do  we 
know  in  what  true  happiness  consists?  We,  who 
have  never  gone  from  the  little  spot  of  the  uni- 
verse where  the  Creator  jdaced,  but  not  con- 
fined us;  we,  who  have  never  joined  the  choirs 
of  angels,  of  archangels,  of  cherubim,  of  se- 
raphim? We,  wlio  have  never  been  in  the  hea- 
venly city  of  God,  in  the  Jerusalem  from 
above,  where  the  Divinity  discovers  the  most 
glorious  marks  of  his  presence,  receives  the 
adorations  of  the  myriads  who  serve  him,  and 
are  continually  in  his  presence? — Do  we  know 


îivovv  that  1  fall  under  the  weight,  and  that  the  in  what  true  happiness  consists?  We,  whose 
terror  only  excited  by  the  magnitude  of  the  taste  is  spoiled  by  intercourse  with  corruptible 
task  imposed,  deprives  me  of  the  courage  of  I  beings,  with  tlie  avaricious,  who  think  to  be 


404 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  XCVIII. 


happy  by  making  their  heaps  of  gold  and  silver; 
with  the  impure,  who  think  that  happiness  con- 
sists in  inipiidenoc,  and  in  violatitiij  Ihn  bound- 
aries of  niodrstv;  with  the  vain  and  liaui^hty, 
wlio  think  that  to  be  happy  one  must  be  able 
to  trace  a  pedigree  with  kings  and  princes  in 
the  line  of  our  ancestors;  and  that  a  connexion 
with  worms  of  earth,  with  dust,  with  those 
phantoms  of  grandeur,  can  make  us  truly 
great' — Do  we  know  in  what  true  ha[)piness 
consists?  No,  Lord,  if  thou  should  this  day 
place  my  destiny  in  my  own  choice;  if  thou 
should  bid  me  form  for  myself  whatever  kind 
of  happiness  I  should  please;  if  thou  should 
place  before  me  the  whole  scale  of  grandeur 
and  glory,  leaving  me  at  full  liberty  to  take 
whatever  portion  I  might  please,  I  would  en- 
treat thee  still  to  let  me  retain  those  bonds  with 
which  I  willingly  fettered  myself  on  embracing 
religion;  I  would  address  to  thee  the  most  ar- 
dent prayers,  not  to  leave  my  felicity  in  hands 
so  bad  as  mine,  and  tliat  thou  alone  should  be 
the  dispenser  of  my  happiness. 

2.  But  we  should  especially  feel  how  saluta- 
ry it  is,  that  Jesus  Christ  should  require  us  to 
renounce  ourselves  with  regard  to  schemes  of 
happiness,  if  we  knew  tlie  greatness  of  his  love 
to  men.     Yes,  my  brethren,  if  we  fully  knew 
this  love,  we  should  leave  all  to  its  decision. 
Venture,  O  my  soul,  or»  this   ocean  of  love 
that  thy  Saviour  expands  in  the  gospel;  lose 
thyself  in  the  immensity  of  the  love  of  God; 
make  vigorous  ctlbrts  to  attain  "  to  its  length 
and  breadth,  its  lieiglit  and  depth,  which  pass- 
eth  knowledge."     ()  think  of  what  thy  Re- 
deemer has  done  for  thee.     Think,  that  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Father,  enjoying  infinity  of  de- 
lights,   he  thought  of  thee.   •  Think,  tliat   he 
has  come  to  thee,  that  he  has  clothed  himself 
with  thy  infirmities;  that  he  has  placed  him- 
self in  the   breach  before  the   tribunal  of  his 
Father;  that  he  has  covered  tlice  with  his  jwr- 
son   that  the  arrows  shot  by  celestial   anger 
might  not  reach  thee,  but  stick  fast  in  himself 
alone;    think  tliat   when  enduring  those  tor- 
ments which   men  and  demons  caused  him  to 
suffer,    he   sustained    himself  by    the  thought 
that  his  sufferings  and  death   would   render  a 
creature  happy  who   to  him  was   unspeakably 
dear;  think,  that  from  the  height  of  glory  to  i 
which  he  was  exalted  after  having  finished  the 
work  the  Father  had  given  him  to  do,  he  cast 
his  eyes  on  thee,  makes  thy  salvation  his  grand 
concern,  and  t;ustes  redoubled  delights  of  feli- 
city by  the  thought,  that  thou  must  become  a 
joint-heir  with  him.     Lose  thyself  in  this  most 
delightfiil,  tills  ravishing  tiiought,  and  see,  see 
now   whether  there    be  any  thing  hard,    any 
thing  difficult,  any  thing  which  ought  not  to 
transport  thee  with  joy  in  the  conditions  which 
thy  Saviour  imposes,  of  sacrificing  to  him  thy 
imaginary  schemes  of  happiness,  and   leaving 
thy  condition  wholly  to  his  love. 

Is  it  then,  speaking  absolutely,  beyond  the 
Divine  omnipotence  to  harmonize  our  happi- 
ness with  our  concupiscence?  If  God  had  testi- 
fied a  greater  lenity  towards  our  defects  than 
what  he  has  revealed  in  the  gospel;  if  he  had 
deigned  to  receive  us  into  favour  with  our 
errors,  prejudices,  our  passions,  our  caprices; 
and  if  after  wo  have  indulged  during  life  in 
the  pleasures  of  the  age,  ho  would  have  con- 


ferred upon  us  the  pleasures  of  eternity  reserv- 
ed for  virtue,  could  he  not  in  this  case  have 
made  a  better  provision  for  the  hapj)iness  of 
man?  'J'hat  in  to  say,  that  because  you  have 
obstinately  adhered  to  your  sins,  you  would 
have  God  cease  to  be  just;  that  is  to  say,  be- 
cause you  have  refused  to  bo  holy,  you  would 
have  the  Holy  One  become  an  accomplice  in 
your  crimes;  to  say  all  in  a  word,  because  you 
would  not  change  your  corrupt  nature,  you 
would  have  him  cease  to  be  holy,  who  is  all 
pure,  all  holy;  I  would  say,  purity  and  holi- 
ness itself  For  I  do  contend,  that  when  the 
degree  of  indulgence  which  God  has  extended 
to  sinners  in  the  gospel,  is  fully  viewed,  he 
could  not  have  extended  it  farther,  without  lay- 
ing aside  his  perfections.  This  is  what  was 
understood  when  we  indicated  the  necessity  of 
regeneration  for  our  third  head,  as  founded  on 
the  attributes  of  God.  This  part  demands  our 
serious  attention.  I  will  therefore  proceed  to 
considerations  of  another  kind,  provided  those 
among  you  who  have  formed  the  habit  of 
thought  and  reflection,  will  deign  to  follow  me 
in  this  short  meditation. 

III.  The  finest  idea  that  we  can  form  of  the 
Divinity;  and  at  the  same  time,  that  which  is 
the  foundation  of  the  confidence  we  place  in 
his  word,  and  the  assurance  with  which  we 
rely  on  his  promises,  is  that  of  a  uniform  Be- 
ing, whose  attributes  have  the  exactest  har- 
mony, and  who  is  always  in  perfect  accordance 
with  himself     The  want  of  harmony  is  cha- 
racteristic  of  the   greatest   imperfection   in  a 
finite  intelligence;  that  when  one  of  his  attri- 
butes is  opposed  to  another,  or  even  at  vari- 
ance with  itself;  when  his  wisdom  fails  to  se- 
cond, or  rather  to  support  his  power,  in  such 
sort,  that  though  he  has  means  to  collect  ma- 
terials for  building  a  town,  yet  he  may  want 
the  talent  of  arrangement;  or,  though  he  may 
have  the  wisdom  of  arrangement,  yet  he  may 
be  destitute  of  power  to  collect  the  materials. 
It  is  the  same  in  all  like  cases.     This  charac- 
ter of  imperfection,  inseparable  from  all  creat- 
ed intelligences,  is  the  cause  of  all  our  disap- 
pointments whenever  we  have  placed  our  con- 
fidence in  an  arm  of  flesh.     "  Put  not  your 
trust  in  princes,  nor  in  the  son   of  man,  in 
whom   there   is  no  help.     His  breath  goeth 
forth,  he  returneth  to  his  earth;  in  that  very 
day  his  thoughts  perish.     Cursed  be  the  man 
that  trusteth   in   man,  and  maketh   flesh  his 
arm."     Ps.  cxlvi.  3,  4;  Jer.  xvii.  5.     Why  so? 
Because  we  cannot  safely  trust  a  being  unless 
he  has  the  harmony  of  the  perfections  of  which 
we  have  spoken,  and  because  this  harmony  is 
never  found  in  man.     His  power  may  be  fa- 
vourable to  you;  but  his  wisdom  failing  in  the 
support  of  his  power,  he  may  make  you  mise- 
rable by  the  very  means  he  employs  to  make 
you  happy.     His  power  also  may  not  act  in 
unison  with  his  wisdom.     Though  he  may  to- 
day be  adequate  to  your  wants,  he  may  not  be 
so  to-morrow.     This  man,  this  first  of  men, 
who   lives  to-day,   may  die  to-morrow;    the 
breath  which  animates  him,  may  be  gone;  he 
may  return  to  earth,  and  all  his  flattering  de- 
signs to  promote  your  happiness  shall  vanish 
away.     But  this  harmony  of  attributes,  which 
cannot  be  found  in  the  creatures,  may  be  found 
in  the  Creator. 


Ser.  XCVIIL] 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


405 


This  principle  being  established,  I  discover, 
my  brethren,  in  the  perfections  of  God  a  new 
source  of  reasons  for  tlie  doctrines  already  ad- 
vanced; and  I  ask,  which  of  the  two  religions 
best  represents  the  Divinity  as  a  Being,  whose 
attributes  are  exactly  harmonized,  and  ever  in 
perfect  unison  witii  himself?     Is  it  the  religion 
of  the  regenerate,  or  that  of  the  luiregenerate? 
When  is  it  that  the  power  of  God  is  in  per- 
fect accordance  wit!)  the  wisdom  of  God?     It 
is  when  his  wisdom  destines  to  a  certain  end, 
the   things    proper   for   that   end,    whicli   his 
power  has  produced.     This  is  tiie  idea  of  tlie 
Divinity  every  wliere  found  in  the  religion  of 
the  regenerate.     God  has  provided  in  the  gos- 
pel whatever   is   requisite  to  make   us   holy; 
light,  motives,  examples,  aids.     These  are  the 
effects  of  his  power.     The  things  which  his 
power  has  afforded,  so  proper  to  make  us  holy, 
he  has  connected  with  their  destination.    God 
requires  tliat  we  should  be  holy,  tliese  are  the 
effects  of  his  wisdom.     Here  is  tlio  harmony 
of  his  wisdom  with  his  power;  wliile,  on  tlic 
contrary,  in  the  religion  of  the  unrcgcnerate 
there  exists  not  the  smallest  trace  of  iiarmony 
between  his  wisdom  and  his  power.     God  con- 
fers upon  us  in  the  gospel  every  requisite  to 
make  us  saints:  here  is  an  effect  of  his  power: 
but  if  he  should  dispense  witii  our  being  made 
holy,  what  would  become  of  his  wisdom? 

When  is  it  that  the  goodness  of  God  ac- 
cords with  his  justice?  It  is  when  the  rigiits 
of  his  justice  are  not  invaded  by  the  effects  of 
his  goodness.  This  is  the  idea  of  tlie  Divinity 
which  is  given  by  the  religion  of  the  regene- 
rate. God  saves  sinners;  here  is  the  effect  of 
his  goodness:  but  it  is  on  condition  of  their  re- 
nouncing sin;  here  is  the  right  of  his  justice. 
See  now  the  harmony  of  justice  and  goodness. 
On  the  contrary,  in  the  religion  of  the  unre- 
generate  there  exists  no  harmony  between 
goodness  and  justice.  God  saves  sinners;  here 
is  tlie  effect  of  his  goodness:  but  should  he  dis- 
pense with  their  being  saved  from  sin,  what 
would  become  of  his  justica' 

When  does  the  justice  of  God  appear  to  ac- 
cord with  his  goodness?  It  is  when  testifying 
his  love  of  order  on  one  occasion,  he  evinces 
no  indifference  for  order  on  another  occasion. 
This  is  the  idea  of  the  religion  of  the  regene- 
rate! His  love  of  order  has  appeared  in  tlie 
most  striking  manner  in  the  satisfaction  he  has 
required  of  the  Redeemer.  This  love  is  de- 
monstrated by  the  conditions  under  which  he 
proposes  to  rescue  tiie  fruits  of  his  passion. 
On  the  contrary,  in  tlie  religion  of  the  unre- 
generate,  there  is  not  the  slightest  harmony 
between  his  justice  and  his  goodness.  He  re- 
quires of  the  Redeemer  a  perfect  satisfaction. 
Here  is  the  effect  of  his  love  of  order.  If  he 
put  the  redeemed  in  possession  of  the  fruit  of 
his  passion,  however  rebellious  their  passions, 
however  execrable  their  purposes,  however  no- 
torious their  ingratitude,  where  would  be  his 
love  of  order?  where  would  be  the  harmony  of 
his  goodness  with  his  justice? 

Let  us  therefore  conclude,  that  unless  God 
should  renounce  his  perfections,  unless  he 
should  set  one  attribute  at  variance  with  an- 
other, and  sometimes  the  same  attribute  at 
variance  with  itself,  he  cannot  save  hardened 
sinners,   without  changing  his   own    nature; 


without  setting  one  of  his  perfections  against 
another,  and  even  the  same  perfection  against 
itself  And  if  the  same  perfection  of  God  be 
at  variance  with  itself,  if  one  perfection  be  in 
ojijjosition  to  another,  if  God  must  renounce 
himself,  if  the  perfect  nature  of  the  Divinity 
be  liable  to  change,  as  is  supposed  by  the  sys- 
tem 1  now  attack,  how  can  we  in  future  repose 
confidence  in  his  word?  How  can  we  venture 
on  his  promises?  Let  a  God  imperfect  and 
contradictory  be  once  su])posed,  (and  such  he 
is  in  your  system,)  let  it  once  be  supposed, 
that  he  has  said  you  may  enter  heaven  with- 
out regeneration,  and  all  faith  in  his  word,  and 
reliance  on  his  promises  must  for  ever  cease. 

Thus,  what  we  pledged  ourselves  to  prove, 
we  have  endeavoured  to  execute;  that  to  be  a 
Christian,  wc  must  be  born  again.  But  we 
fear  lest  a  remark  we  made  in  our  first  dis- 
course, and  wliicii  was  repeated  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this,  should  frustrate  our  expectation. 
The  proposition  of  our  Saviour  "ye  must  be 
born  again,"  we  said,  ought  to  be  restricted; 
that  the  term  ought  not  to  be  applied  indiffer- 
ently to  all;  that  it  regarded  those  only  whose 
sins  separate  them  from  his  table;  that  one 
must  not  confound  the  change  Jesus  Christ  re- 
quires of  a  man  who  is  not  a  Christian,  but 
would  embrace  religion,  with  tiiat  which  he 
requires  of  a  weak  Christian  who  recovers 
from  his  defects. 

This  remark,  then,  so  requisite  to  illustrate 
the  nature  of  regeneration,  does  it  not  en- 
feeble, in  some  of  our  minds,  the  necessity  of 
the  change  we  proposed  to  establish?  The 
evasions  of  tiie  heart  are  innumerable,  and 
when  the  multitude  of  those  Christians  is  con- 
sidered to  whom  "  our  gospel  is  hid,  because 
Ihe  god  of  this  world  hath  blinded  their 
mind,"  I  fear  lest  many  nominal  Christians 
should  reason  in  this  way:  at  least,  so  far  as 
to  say,  that  what  we  enforce  concerning  the 
necessity  of  regeneration  does  not  concern 
them.  I  belong  to  a  Christian  congregation, 
and  though  some  farther  reformation  must  yet 
be  effectuated  in  my  conduct,  it  is  only  such 
as  Jesus  Christ  requires  of  the  weak  and  wan- 
dering Christian;  I  am  not  the  character  which 
he  requires  to  be  born  again.  My  bretiiren,  if 
I  have  opened  a  breach,  I  must  endeavour  to 
heal  it;  if  I  have  given  occasion  to  false  infer- 
ences, I  must  endeavour  to  correct  tiiem;  if  I 
have  preached  the  necessity  of  regeneration  in 
general,  I  mustno^v  preach  it  in  particular,  and 
as  applicable  to  Nicodemus,  to  whom  Jesus 
Christ  spake;  and  in  drawing  the  character  of 
many  of  my  hearers,  and  say  to  them  as  the 
Saviour  said  to  IS'icodemus,  "  marvel  not  that 
I  said  unto  thee,  ye  must  be  born  again;  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  tiiee,  that  except  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God." 

What  was  the  character  of  Nicodemus?  Ni- 
codemus was  one  of  those  men  who  temporize 
between  Christ  and  the  world;  whose  minds 
are  sufficiently  enlightened  to  know  the  truth, 
but  who  have  not  a  sufficiency  of  courage  to 
honour  it,  except  it  can  be  done  without  dan- 
ger; who  would  indeed  be  saved,  but  who  can- 
not find  resolution  to  make  all  the  sacrifices 
which  salvation  requires;  who  come  to  Christ, 
but  they  come  by  night;  who  are  Christians  in 


406 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


[Ser.  XCVUI. 


judgment,  but  tliey  dare  not  avow  it  to  the 
Jews. 

Wliat  was  the  idea  whicli  Jesus  Clirist 
formed  of  the  real  state  of  this  ruler  in  Israel? 
Wliat  duties  did  lie  impose  upon  him?  On 
what  conditions  did  lie  receive  liiin  for  a  dis- 
ciple? Uid  lie  regard  him  as  already  a  Chris- 
tian? Did  he  recpiire  merely  the  change  whicli 
subsists  in  a  weak  and  wavering  Christian,  or 
the  change  indispensable  in  one  who  is  yet  in 
a  carnal  state?  Did  he  prescribe  the  merely 
superficial  cliange,  or  require  tlie  transforma- 


pai^ion  wc  cannot  eradicate,  and  which  forbid 
the  refusal  of  the  appellation  of  brethren;  but 
which  a  siipiiicnessof  many  years  continuance, 
does  not  allow  us  to  regard  you  as  Christians. 
Tiiesc  incessant  evasions;  those  procrastinations 
of  making  an  open  profession  of  religion;  those 
complicated  pretexts;  these  frivolous  excuses;  , 
liiis  obstinate  resistance  of  the  voice  which 
cries,  "  Come  out  of  IJabylon,  my  people;"  all 
these  dispositions  wiiich  give  you  so  striking  a 
resemblance  to  Nicodeinus,  and  wliich  give 
you  so  just  a  title  to  be  called  ^Vicodemites,  do 


tion  of  a  new  birth?  It  is  not  you,  my  bre-  but  too  much  justify  the  proposition  addressed 
thren,  but  the  gospel,  which  gives  the  answers  to  tlic  Rabbi,  your  hero,  and  your  model, 
to  these  inquiries.     Jesus  Christ  said  to  this  i  "  Verily,  verily,  I  sav  unto  thee,  except  a  man 


doctor,  to  tiiis  man,  who  was  a  teaciier  fron 
God,  to  tins  man  whose  mind  was  enliglitened 
to  know  the  truth,  to  this  man  who  wished  to 
be  saved,  who  came  to  him,  and  who  was  a 
Christian  in  judgment;  Jesus  Christ  said,  "-Ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Marvel  not  that  1  said  un- 
to thee,  ye  must  be  born  again." 

But  wiiy  did  tiie  Saviour  address  the  ruler 
in  so  decided  a  manner?  Because  tlie  ruler 
was  a  Christian  in  judgment,  and  would  not 
be  one  in  conduct;  because  this  man  came  to 
him  by  night,  and  would  not  come  by  day;  be- 
cause this  man  wished  to  be  saved,  and  would 
not  make  the  sacrifices  which  salvation  requir- 
ed; because  this  man  was  sulliciently  enlight- 
ened to  know  the  truth,  and  had  not  courage 
to  avow  the  truth;  and  to  say  all  in  one  word, 
because  this  man  was  a  scrvq.nt  of  God  by 
profession,  and  at  the  same  time  a  servant  of 
the  world;  because  such  a  man,  according  to 
the  morality  of  Jesus  Christ,  cannot  be  a 
Christian;  I  would  say,  he  cannot,  conformably 
to  the  new  covenant,  bo  a  member  of  the 
Christian  church.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
thee,  except  a  man  be  born  ajiain  he  cannot 
enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  Marvel  not  that 
I  said  unto  thee,  ye  must  bo  born  again.  Art 
thou  a  master  in  Israel,  and  knowest  not  these 
things?" 

APPLICATION. 

Conclude  then,  my  brethren;  preach,  and 
make  yourselves  the  ni)[)lication  of  this  dis- 
course: sec  then  to  what  end  you  pervert  our 
doctrine,  that  one  must  not  confound  the 
change  Jesus  Christ  rccpiires  in  a  man  who 
has  not  yet  embraced  Christiaiiitj',  witii  that 


be  born  acain,  he  cannot  enter  the  kingdom 
of  God."  Verily  1  say  unto  you,  if  you  do 
not  abjure  so  monstrous  a  system  of  religion 
on  which  you  form  your  conduct,  if  you  con- 
tiime  to  confound  the  communion  of  light  with 
darkness,  and  Christ  with  Belial;  if  you  per- 
sist in  the  wish  to  drink  the  cup  of  Christ,  and 
the  cup  of  devils;  if  you  rally  not  under  the 
banners  of  the  reformation,  and  seek  places 
where  you  may  profess  Christianity,  verily  I 
say  unto  you,  that  you  cannot  enter  the  king- 
dom of  God;  and  that  so  far  as  you  shall  re- 
scmlde  Nicodennis,  so  far  will  the  declaration 
of  Christ  aflcct  you  as  Nicodemus. 

But  what  is  it  I  say,  that  you  are  like  Nico- 
demus? Ah!  your  state  is  incomparably  worse. 
What  do  I  say,  that  tlie  words  of  Christ  re- 
gard you  as  they  regarded  Nicodemus?  They 
regard  you  in  a  more  serious  manner.  Nico- 
demus feared  the  Jews,  but  you  have  nothing 
to  fear  fiom  them.  Where  are  the  barriers, 
where  are  the  guards,  where  are  the  obstacles 
which  hinder  you  from  emigrating  to  a  land 
of  liberty?  Where  are  the  galleys?  Where 
are  tlie  dungeons?  Where  are  the  fagots  re- 
served for  those  only  who  bid  defiance  to  them? 
Nicodemus  neither  built  houses,  nor  formed 
establishments,  nor  married  his  children,  in  a 
country  which  his  conscience  pressed  him  to 
abandon:  these  are  modes  of  conduct  which 
seem  reserved  to  you.  Nicodemus  had  not 
promised,  had  not  sworn  on  the  august  sym- 
bols of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  that  he 
would  decide  for  the  true  religion;  but  many 
of  you  have  taken  this  solemn  oath,  and  after 
having  unworthily  violated  it,  you  sleep  secure 
in  carnal  enjoyments.  Nicodemus  had  not 
born  exhorted  for  ten,  for  twenty,  f^)r  thirty 
he  requires  of  a  weak  and  inconstant  believer!  ]  3?ears,  to  come  to  a  decision;  but  we  have  an- 
But  ah!  wc  must  not  abandon  so  im[)orlant  a  nounccd  to  you  for  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  years, 
conclusion  to  thn  cai)rice  of  man;  it  belongs  to  in  the  name  of  God,  that  "  without  aro  the 
us  to  enforce  it;  it  belongs  to  us  to  make  its  fearful."  "  Whisoever  shall  deny  me  before 
whole  evidence,  its  wiiole  iirojiricty  felt  as  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Father 
much  as  is  in  our  ])ower;  it  belongs  to  us  to  wliich  is  in  heaven. — Whosoever  shall  be 
unite  our  wliolc  mind,  and  strength,  and  voire,  j  ashamed  of  me,  and  of  my  words,  before  this 
to  dissipate,  if  possible,  so  many  ev:isions  which  1  adulterous  and  sinful  generation,  of  him  shall 
tlie  most  part  of  us  cease  not  to  oppose  to  the  the  Son  of  Man  be  asiiamcd,  when  he  cometh 
decisions  of  eternal  trutli.  in  the  glory  of  his  Father,  and  with  his  holy 

First,  the  whole  of  what  wo  have  said  on  |  angels.     If  any  man  shall  worship  the  beast 


the  necessity  of  regeneration,  has  a  direct 
bearing  on  you,  the  true  disciples  of  Nicode- 
mus; who,  finding  yourselves  in  similar  cir- 
cumatanres,  adopt  a  similar  conduct;  and  un- 
able to  come  til  Jesus  Christ  by  day  without 
danger,  venture  to  ajiproach  by  night:  you, 
whom  we  know  not  for  the  future  how  to  de- 
terminate, because  of  certain  feelings  of  com- 


aiid  his  image,  or  receive  his  mark  in  his 
forehead,  or  in  his  hand,  tiie  same  shall  drink 
of  the  wine  of  the  wrath  of  God;  he  shall  bo 
tormented  with  fire  and  brimstone;  and  the 
smoke  of  their  torment  shall  a.scend  for  over 
and  ever,"  Matt.  x.  33;  Mark  viii.  3S;  Rev. 
xiv.  9— II. 

Perhaps  you  will  say,  that  we  dwell  too 


Ser.  XCVIII.] 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


407 


much  on  terrific  truths?    Perhaps  you  will  ask 
for  whom  these  discourses  are  ifttended  which 
can  but  directly  interest  such  characters  as  are 
out  of  the  reacii  of  our  voice?     Kor  whom  are 
these  discourses,  do  you  yet  ask?    For  some  of 
those  who  hear  us,  whom  God  has  saved  from 
these   calamities,  but   who   hesitate,  i)erha[)s, 
about  a  relapse.     For  whom?     For  this  fullicr 
of  a  family,  wlio  has  left  his  country,  but  un- 
able to  induce  his  children  to  follow,  he  has  es- 
tablished tliem  there;  and  they  will  curse  him, 
perhaps,  to  all  eternity,  for  having  procured 
them  worldly  wealth  at  the  expense  of  their 
immortal  souls.     It  is  for  this  father,  tiiat  he 
may  feci  tlie  horror  of  a  crime  whicli  cannot 
bo  repaired  by  too  many  regrets,  by  too  many 
sighs,  by  too  many  tears.     For  whom?     For  a 
very  considerable  number  of  ourselves,  who 
have  intercourse  with  those  base  Christians, 
to  use  unremitting  etforts,  that  tliey  may  feel 
their  situation,  and  be  delivered  from  it.     For 
whom?     For  you,  our  higii  and  mighty  lords, 
defenders  of  the  faith,  nursing  filhers  of  the 
church,  so  often  importuned  by  our  solicita- 
tions, that  you  still  deign  to  bear  them;  and 
that  the  protection  you  have  extended  to  those 
wiio  take  refuge  in  your  country,  having  but 
their  souls  for  a  prey,  may  encourage  those  to 
como  hither,  who  yet  remain  in  an  idolatrous 
country.     For  whom?    For  the  whole,  how 
many  soever  we  be,  that  impressed  with  the 
greatest  of  our  calamities,  we  may  endeavour 
to  move  by  ardent  prayers  the  bowels  of  a 
compassionate  God,  and  prevail  on  him  to  re- 
build the  ruins  of  our  Jerusalem,  and  the  dust 
of  our  sanctuaries,  and  to  restore  to  us  the 
great  number  of  souls  which  the  persecution, 
and  more  so,  the  love  of  the  world,  have  rent 
away.     O  God!  "  God  of  vengeance,  a  con- 
suming fire,  a  jealous  God:  how  long  wilt  thou 
bo  angry  with  the  prayers  of  thy  people?     Ye 
that  make  mention  of  the  Lord,  keep  not  si- 
lence; give  him  no  rest  till  he  establisli,  and 
make  Jerusalem  a  praise   in  the  earth."     O 
God,  though  wo  can  indeed  resolve  to  aban- 
don our  country  for  ever,  yet  we  cannot  re- 
solve to  abandon  the  soul  of  our  brethren.     O 
God,  so  long  as  access  to  tlie  throne  of  thy 
mercy  sliall  be  open,  we  will  thither  approach 
to  ask  for  the  souls  of  our  brethren;  and  so 
long  as  a  single  moment  of  life  and  strength 
shall  remain,  we  will  raise  our  suppliant  cries, 
and  say,   "  Behold,  O   Lord,  and  consider  to 
whom  thou  hast  done  this!     Return,  O  Lord, 
return  to  the  many  thousands  of  Israel."  Shut 
the  pit  of  the  abyss  which  is  ready  to  swallow 
up  the  souls  of   our  brethren.     Lam.  ii.  20; 
Numb.  X.  36. 

But  does  the  proposition  of  Jesus  Christ 
solely  regard  the  Nicodcmites  properly  so  call- 
ed? Are  all  those  Christians  who  belong  to 
Christian  communions?  Among  all  our  hear- 
ers, among  those  who  adhere  to  our  worship, 
who  believe  our  mysteries,  and  who  partake 
of  our  sacraments,  is  there  no  one  to  whom 
we  may  justly  apply  the  words  of  the  Saviour, 
"  Verily,  verily,  1  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man 
be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven?"  Oh!  my  brethren,  what  is  the  mi- 
nistry we  are  commissioned  to  exercise  to-day? 
What  is  the  gospel  which  God  has  this  day 
put  into  our  mouth?   I  can  draw  no  conclusions 


from  this  discourse,  which  so  naturally  occur 
to  my  mind  as  those  that  a  prophet  declared 
to  a  queen  of  Israel;  I  would  say,  as  Ahijah  to 
tlie  wife  of  Jeroboam,  "  1  am  sent  to  thee  with 
heavy  tidings,"  1  Kings  xiv.  G.  And  all  those 
tidings  are  not  less  true  than  heavy.  I  confess 
my  inability  to  comprehend  the  facility  with 
whicii  some  people  api)ly  to  tliemselves  the 
evangelical  promises,  and  airogate  the  first 
place  in  the  kingdom,  into  which  Jesus  Christ 
says,  none  shall  enter  without  a  new  birth. 
Each  of  the  articles  in  which  we  have  made 
tiio  nature  of  this  change  to  consist,  supplies 
us  with  arguments  against  this  class  of  people. 
To  become  a  Christian,  we  must  have  other 
desires,  other  hopes,  other  sentiments,  and 
other  pursuits,  than  those  of  the  world:  unless 
you  are  born  again,  you  can  neither  become  a 
member  of  the  church,  nor  apply  to  yourselves 
the  promises  made  to  the  church.  So  long  as 
you  persist  in  conserving  tiiis  conformity  to  the 
world,  though  against  the  better  feelings  of 
your  heart,  from  the  sole  desire  of  not  render- 
ing the  world  implacable,  or  as  the  gospel  says 
of  some,  "  for  fear  of  the  Jews,"  you  are  not 
Christians;  and  thus  the  proposition  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  just  as  much  demonstrated  with  re- 
gard to  you,  as  with  regard  to  Nicodemus, 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man 
be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God.'' 

This  last  article  is  worthy  of  our  attention. 
There  arc  some  men,  who,  if  they  should  fol- 
low their    inclination,   would    wholly  devote 
themselves  to  God,  but  are  deterred  from  do- 
ing so,  by  I  know  not  what  shame,  the  world 
is  pleased  to  attach  to  those  who  openly  de- 
clare for  virtue.  For  it  must  be  remarked,  that 
our  age  is  come  to  that  pitch  of  depravity 
which  attaches  a  note  of  infamy  on  those  who 
openly  declare  for  religion,  and  thereby  ex- 
poses them  to  a  kind  of  persecution.  This  con- 
sideration induces  Nicodemus  to  come  to  Jesus 
by  night,  "  for  fear  of  the  Jews."     Here  also 
is  what  hinders  a  vast  number  of  men  from 
glorifying  the  trutii.     Why  does  this  young 
man  aficct  outwardly  to  adopt  certain  airs  of 
gallantry  and  profaneness,  which  he  detests  in 
his  heart?    It  is  "  for  fear  of  the  Jews."    Be- 
cause it  has  pleased  men  of  fashion  to  account 
those  vices  in  youth  a  sort  of  courtly  graces: 
it  is  because  they  attach  a  badge  of  infamy  on 
a  young  man,  who  is  chaste  and  pious,  and 
expose  him  to  a  kind  of  persecution.     Why  is 
it  in  politics  that  one  dares  not  openly  avow, 
that  religion  is  the  best  policy,  and  that  the 
most  consummate  statesman  cannot  save  his 
country  when  pursued  by  the  vengeance  of 
heaven?     It  is  "  for  fear  of  the  Jews;"  it  is  be- 
cause we  attach  a  note  of  infamy,  and  expose 
to  a  kind  of  persecution,  the  statesman  who 
docs  not  make  every  thing  depend  on  tlie  in- 
terested maxims  of  carnal  men.     Why  does 
this  pastor  fail  to  magnify  in  his  sermons  the 
high  morality  of  the  gospel?   It  is  "  for  fear  of 
the  Jews:"  it  is  because  the  world  accounted 
us  visionaries,   in  fact,  and  persecuted  us  as 
disturbers  of  the  public  peace,  when  we  confi- 
dently enforced  the  truth.    Do  you,  alas!  fear 
the  Jews,  like  Nicodemus?    Then  you  have 
need  like  him  to  bo  bom  again.    Do  you  come 
to  Jesus  only  by  night,  like  this  Rabbi?    Then 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION.  [Ser.  XCVHI. 


408 

the  proposition  of  Jesus  Christ  is  as  much  de- 
monstrated with  regard  to  you,  as  with  re^rard 
to  him:  "  Verily,  1  say  unto  tliee,  except  a 
man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  enter  the  king- 
dom of  God." 

Let  us,  my  dear  bretliren,  laying:  aside  world- 
ly prudence,  seriously  apply  this  doctrine;  more 
especially  if  we  are  hai)])y  enough  to  know 
tiie  glory  of  the  gospel,  let  us  never  be  asham- 
ed to  avow  it;  let  us  never  blush  to  say,  /  am 
a  Christian.  It  costs  us  much,  in  some  situa- 
tions, I  fully  agree,  to  make  the  avowal:  but 
what  matter?  He  who  supported  the  martyrs 
on  the  fagots  and  piles;  he  who  enabled  St. 
Stephen  t^  say,  when  the  stones  were  falling 
on  him,  "  Behold,  I  see  heaven  open,  and  the 
Son  of  man  standing  at  the  right  hand  of 
God;"  he  who  made  the  apostles  e.\ult  in  the 
midst  of  the  greatest  tribulations,  saying, 
"  Thanks  be  to  God  who  hath  always  caused 
us  to  triumph  in  Jesus  Christ."  the  same  God 


will  also  support  us.  If  in  this  economy  of 
confusion  we  are  bom  from  above,  we  shall  re- 
ceive the  reward  in  the  great  day  of  universal 
regeneration;  and  we  shall  apply  to  ourselves 
the  answer  of  Jesus  Christ  to  St.  Peter,  when 
that  apostle  had  asked,  "  Behold,  we  have  left 
all,  and  followed  thee,  what  shall  we  have 
therefore?"  Jesus  said  unto  them,  "  Verily,  I 
say  unto  you,  that  ye  who  have  followed  me 
in  the  regeneration,  when  the  Son  of  man 
shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  ye  also 
shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones,  judging  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel,"  Matt.  .\i.\.  27,  28. 
To  sit  on  thrones  with  Jesus  Christ  when 
he  shall  come  in  his  glory;  O!  what  a  motive, 
my  dear  brethren!  Here  is  our  support  con- 
stantly to  endure  the  cross,  as  he  endured  it. 
Here  is  our  support  to  despise  reproach,  as  he 
despised  it.  God  grant  us  grace  so  to  do.  To 
him  be  honour  and  glory  now  and  for  ever. 
Amen. 


SERVIONS 


REV.    JAMES    SAURIN, 


TRANSLATED 


BY  THE  REV.  M.  A.  BURDER. 


Vol.  il— 52 


Sen.  XCIX.] 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  GOD  TO  MEN,  &c. 


411 


SERMON  XCIX. 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  GOD  TO  MEN,  AND 
OF  MEN  TO  GOD. 


EzEK.  xviii.  29—32. 

Yet  saith  the  house  of  Israel;  the  iraij  of  the  Lord 
is  not  eqtinl.  0  hoxise  of  Israel,  are  not  mij 
ways  equal}  are  not  your  tcays  unequal?  There- 
fore I  v'ill  judge  you,  0  house  of  Israel,  every 
one  according  to  his  u-ays,  saith  the  Lord  God. 
Repent  and  turn  yourselves  from  all  your  trans- 
gressions; so  iniquity  shall  not  be  your  ruin. 
Cast  away  from  you  all  your  transgressions 
vhercby  ye  have  transgressed,  and  make  you  a 
new  heart  and  a  new  spirit:  foi-  why  will  ye 
die,  0  house  of  Israel!  Far  I  have  no  plea- 
sure in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth,  saitli  the 
IjOrd  God,  wlurefore  tuni  yourselves,  and 
live  ye. 

'  Righteous  art  tliou,  O  Lord,  when  I  plead 
with  thee;  yet  let  me  tallt  with  thee  of  thy 
judgments,"  Jcr.  xii.  1.  Tlius  did  tlie  prophet 
Jeremiah  formerly  reconcile  the  desire,  wiiich 
is  naturally  formed  hy  an  intelligent  being,  to 
inquire  into  the  ways  of  Providence,  witli  the 
submission  duo  even  to  its  most  obscure  dis- 
pensations. We  ought  to  possess  a  strong 
conviction  of  the  infallibility  of  God,  whose 
judgments  are  the  rule  of  reason  and  of  truth. 
This  reflection  slioiild  always  be  present  in  our 
minds,  that  his  wisdom  is  able  to  resolve  any 
difficulties  whicii  our  finite  understandings  may 
suggest;  and  that  the  doubts  which  seem  to 
obscure  the  glory  which  surrounds  him,  only 
serve  to  augment  its  splendour;  "Righteous 
art  thou,  O  Lord,  when  J  plead  with  thee." 

Nevertheless,  we  are  permitted  to  pour  our 
cares  into  the  bosom  of  God,  and  to  seek  in 
the  riches  of  his  knowledge  for  direction,  and 
of  his  grace  for  help,  to  triumph  over  our  cor- 
ruptions. Wo  may  say,  "  why  hast  thou  formed 
me  thus,"  not  to  place  our  reason  on  a  level 
with  the  Supreme  Being,  who  governs  the 
universe,  but  to  obtain  some  rays  of  his  light, 
if  he  deign  to  communicate  them,  or  to  ac- 
quiesce with  humility,  in  the  dispensations  he 
is  pleased  to  order.  "  Righteous  art  thou,  O 
Lord,  when  I  plead  with  thee,  yet  let  me  talk 
with  thee  of  thy  judgments!"  In  the  temper 
of  mind  here  expressed,  we  iiave  meditated  on 
the  words  read  to  you;  and  in  this  temper  you 
must  listen  to  the  explanation  of  them.  They 
present  to  us  an  inquiry,  and  a  conclusion. 
An  incjuiry,  "  O  house  of  Israel,  is  not  my  way 
equal.'  are  not  your  ways  unequal.-"  A  con- 
clusion, contained  in  these  words,  which  is  the 
substance  of  the  two  preceding  verses,  "  turn 
yourselves,  and  live!" 

Before  we  enter  upon  this  subject,  it  will  he 
necessary  to  define  the  expression,  conduct,  or 
in  the  language  of  tiie  text,  "  tlie  ways  of  God, 
and  the  ways  of  the  children  of  Israel."  These 
terms  must  be  limited  to  tlie  subject  treated 
of  in  the  chapter  from  whicli  they  are  taken. 
God  there  declares  tlie  line  of  conduct  which 
he  intends  to  pursue,  both  vvitii  regard  to  the 
Israelites  and  sinners  in  general.  He  will  in- 
deed act  as  a  Sovereign,  but  tlie  strictness  of 


his  discipline  is  moderated  by  the  wisest  regu- 
lations. "  All  souls  are  mine,"  lie  says  in  the 
fourth  verse  of  this  clia|)ter,  "as  the  soul  of 
the  father,  so  also  the  soul  of  the  son  is  mine, 
and  1  will  judge  tiicm,  not  only  according  to 
the  Sovereign  power  which  I  possess  over  them, 
but  also  according  to  their  mode  of  life.  "The 
soul  liiat  sinneth  it  shall  die."  "  But  if  a  man  be 
just,  and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right,  and 
have  not  eaten  upon  the  mountains,"  that  is, 
if  he  has  not  jiartaken  of  the  sacrifices,  made 
by  the  idolatrcjus  nations  in  the  liigh  places; 
nor  eaten  of  the  flesh  of  the  victims  sacrificed 
to  their  gods.  "  Xeitlier  hatli  defiled  his  neigh- 
bour's wife,  and  hatii  not  0()pressed  any,  but 
hath  restored  to  the  debtor  his  pledge,  hath 
spoiled  none  by  violence,  hath  given  his  bread 
to  the  hungry,  and  hath  covered  the  naked 
with  a  garment,"  in  a  word,  "  He  who  hath 
walked  in  my  statutes,  and  liath  kept  my  judg- 
ments to  deal  truly,  he  is  just;  he  sliall  surely 
live,  sailli  the  Lord." 

But  as  the  strict  administration  of  justice, 
in  a  lawgiver,  far  from  encouraging  virtue, 
serves  sometimes  for  a  pretext  to  palliate  vice, 
and  as  no  mortal  can  attain  to  such  a  standard 
of  holiness,  as  to  bear  a  rigorous  examination, 
God  declares  to  sinners  tliat  he  will  pardon 
them  on  their  sincere  repentance,  "  But  if  the 
wicked  will  turn  from  all  his  sins  that  he  hath 
committed,  uiid  keep  all  my  statutes,  and  do 
that  which  is  lawful  and  right,  he  shall  surely 
live,  he  shall  not  die;  all  his  transgressions  that 
he  hath  committed,  they  shall  not  be  mentioned 
unto  him:  in  his  righteousness  that  he  hath 
done,  he  shall  live.  Have  I  any  pleasure  at 
all  that  the  wicked  should  die.'  saith  the  Lord 
God,  and  not  that  he  should  return  from  his 
ways  and  liver"  This  is  what  we  are  to  un- 
derstand by  the  conduct  of  God,  mentioned  in 
the  te.xt,  "  Are  not  my  ways  equal,  O  house 
of  Israel?"  Let  us  now  attend  to  the  conduct 
of  the  children  of  Israel. 

We  must  again  refer  to  the  same  source  for 
information  on  this  subject,  the  chapter  from 
wiiich  the  text  is  taken.  We  shall  there  find 
that  the  Israelites,  during  the  time  when  God 
governed  them  as  a  father  and  legislator,  as 
well  as  a  sovereign,  were  bold  enough  to  ac- 
cuse him  of  forgetting  his  characters  of  father 
and  lawgiver,  and  only  exercising  his  power  as 
sovereign.  They  charged  him  with  violating 
tliat  principle  of  equity,  which  is  the  founda- 
tion of  all  liis  laws,  and  which  he  himself  had 
dictated,  contained  in  Deut.  xxiv.  6,  and  no- 
ticed by  Amaziah,  2  Kings  xiv.  6,  in  which  the 
judges  were  forbidden  to  punish  their  father» 
for  the  sins  of  the  children,  or  the  children  for 
the  sins  of  tlie  fathers.  Tliey  pretended  that 
they  were  the  victims  of  the  violation  of  this 
law,  and  expressed  this  dreadful  idea  by  the 
proverb,  "  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 
and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge." 
Tliese  blasphemous  thoughts  of  the  conduct 
of  God  towards  them,  influenced  not  merely 
their  understanding,  but  regulated  the  whole 
course  of  their  lives.  They  dared  to  assert 
that  when  God  thus  violated  the  laws  of  justice 
and  charity,  there  was  no  obligation  on  them 
to  observe  them,  and  no  necessity  for  repent- 
ance when  they  had  broken  them.  "  O  house 
of  Israel!  are  not  my  ways  equal'    Therefore 


412 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  GOD  TO  MEN, 


[Ser.  XCIX. 


I  will  judge  you,  O  house  of  Israel!  every  one 
according  to  his  ways,  saith  the  Lord  God. 

But  tliis  view  of  the  suhject  is  still  vague 
and  imperfect.  To  show  to  its  full  extent, 
the  truth  of  tiiis  precept,  and  the  justice  of  the 
inference,  we  must  enter  more  minutely  into 
itfi  details,  and  consider, 

First,  Tiiat  tlie  ways  of  God  are  the  ways 
of  liglit;  those  of  the  house  of  Israel  were  ways 
of  obscurity  and  darkness. 

Secondly,  Tiie  ways  of  God  are  ways  of 
justice;  those  of  the  house  of  Israel,  were  ways 
of  blaspliemy  and  calumny. 

Lastly,  The  ways  of  God  are  ways  of  mercy 
and  compassion;  those  of  the  house  of  Israel 
were  ways  of  revenge  and  despair. 

From  each  of  these  divisions  we  may  draw 
this  exhortation,  "  Be  ye  converted,  and  live." 
It  is  true,  that  while  we  still  bear  in  mind  that 
these  words  were  originally  addressed  to  the 
Israelites,  we  sliall  bo  more  anxious  to  apply 
them  to  the  Christians  of  the  present  time,  and 
now  propose  to  consider, 

First,  That  the  ways  of  God  are  the  ways 
of  light;  by  which  I  mean,  that  there  is  no  per- 
son educated  in  the  Christian  religion,  who  can 
bo  ignorant  of  the  conduct  of  God  towards 
men,  who  does  not  know  that  he  will  regulate 
our  future  slate,  according  to  the  mnunerin 
which  we  have  fulfilled  our  duties,  and  obeyed 
his  commandments  here:  or  the  sincerity  of  our 
repentance  when  we  have  transgressed  them, 
or  through  the  weakness  of  our  nature  lost 
sight  of  them.  He  has  expressed  himself  so 
distinctly  on  this  point,  that  the  most  limited 
capacity  may  understand,  without  dilHculty, 
what  is  his  will.  He  has  declared  it  to  men 
under  ditiercnt  dispensations.  Some  liad  only 
the  light  of  nature,  to  others  he  gave  the  law, 
on  others  he  shed  the  bright  beams  of  the 
gospel.  He  has  also  employed  various  nieans 
for  their  instruction.  Some  he  has  taught  by 
the  light  of  reason;  some  by  supernatural  reve- 
lations; some  by  traditions;  some  by  the  minis- 
try of  the  patriarchs;  some  by  that  of  the  pro- 
phets; some  by  his  apostles,  and  his  ministers, 
their  successors  in  the  church.  Ho  has  also 
proposed  to  men  dirtbrent  motives;  sometimes 
he  has  urged  the  remembrance  of  past  favours; 
sometimes,  the  hope  of  future  benefits;  some- 
times, ho  terrifies  by  his  threatenings;  at  others 
allurea,  by  his  gracious  promises:  at  one  period 
he  speaks  aloud  in  his  judgnienta,  at  another 
by  hig  mercies.  But  what  is  the  end  proposed 
in  all  these  different  dispensations,  these  vari- 
ous motives?  all  tend  to  one  grand  point,  to 
show  us,  that  there  are  but  these  two  ways  of 
attaining  heaven,  by  perfect  obedience,  or  by 
sincere  re()enl:incc.  This  is  the  object  of  all 
God's  threatenings,  |)romisos,  mercies,  and 
chastisement»;  the  sun»  of  the  predictions  of 
his  prophets;  tlie  warnings  of  his  ministers;  the 
preaching  of  his  aposlh-s,  and  the  tesliinoiiy  of 
his  saints.  This  is  tlie  lesson  taught  by  the 
law  of  nature,  revelation,  and  tradition:  and 
of  this  lujuo  can  be  ignorant,  unless  they  are 
wilfully  «o. 

Thus  we  see  that  the  way  of  God  is  equal 
and  well  ordered;  if  he  hud  hidden  truths,  im- 
portant to  our  welfare,  beneath  the  impenetra- 
ble darkness  of  liis  counsels,  if  the  eternal  rules 
for  our  conduct  wero  written  in  hieroglyphics, 


whoso  meaning  could  only  bo  decyphered  by 
superior  minds;  and  if  he  had  condemned  us, 
because  we  knew  not  things,  which  wero 
placed  beyond  our  reach,  we  might  have  re- 
monstrated against  so  unjust  a  dispensation; 
but  on  the  contrary,  he  has  brought  his  laws 
to  the  level  of  our  capacity;  he  has  spoken,  ex- 
plained, and  entreated.  Is  not  then  the  way 
of  God,  an  enlightened  way.'  Is  it  not  an 
equal  way.' 

But  we  shall  see,  if  we  consider  farther,  that 
the  way  of  the  house  of  Israel  is  unequal;  it 
is  a  way  of  darkness;  and  I  deplore  that  we  are 
formed  on  so  imperfect  a  model,  for  what  was 
the  conduct  of  the  house  of  Israel?  Or  rather, 
what  is  our  conduct?  Like  the  Israelites  of 
old,  who  lost  themselves  in  speculating  on  the 
imputations  which  they  pretended  were  cast 
on  them  of  the  sins  of  their  fathers,  we  forsake 
the  plain  path,  and  entangle  ourselves  in  tho 
labyrinths  of  controversy.  Wo  are  ingenious 
in  raising  difficulties,  in  forming  new  systems, 
and  above  all  in  agitating  useless  questions. 
We  inquire,  why,  if  God  loves  justice,  does  ho 
permit  sin  to  enter  the  world?  Why  if  ho 
wishes  us  to  remain  virtuous,  does  ho  im- 
plant in  us  dispositions  opposed  to  virtue? 
Why,  if  our  future  state  of  happines  or  misery 
depends  on  our  thoughts,  actions,  and  motives, 
does  he  say  that  he  has  fixed  it  from  all  eter- 
nity? Why,  if  we  are  weak  and  feeble  when 
we  ought  to  do  good,  are  we  exhorted  to  strive 
to  conquer  this  weakness,  and  surmount  this 
feebleness?  Why,  if  we  inherit  sin  from  our 
ancestors,  are  we  reproached  with  it,  as  if  it 
were  our  own  work,  and  the  object  of  our 
choice?  In  this  manner  we  argue,  reply,  write, 
dispute,  declaim,  heap  answer  upon  answer, 
objection  upon  objection;  volumes  multiply  to 
an  indefinite  extent:  and  thus  we  lose  in  idle 
speculations,  time  that  might  be  employed  to 
advantage  in -action  and  practice.  Hence  ori- 
ginate party-distinctions,  scholastic  disputa- 
tions, and  hatred  disguised  under  the  mask  of 
zeal  in  the  cause  of  religion.  From  this  has 
proceeded  all  the  persecutions  of  the  church  in 
past  ages,  and  this  spirit  would  still  engender 
persecution,  if  the  wisdom  of  God  did  not 
set  bounds  to  theological  zeal.  "  O  house  of 
Israel,  arc  not  my  ways  equal;  are  not  your 
ways  unequal?" 

Is  not  this  principle  clearly  demonstrated?  is 
it  not  a  self-evident  conclusion,  that  all  which 
inrtuonces  our  practice,  all  which  relates  to  the 
sentinients  of  the  heart  in  matters  of  religion, 
is  infinitely  more  important  tiian  idle  specula- 
tion and  mere  profession,  an  attachment  to  a 
form  that  loaves  the  mind  unimpressed?  I  ac- 
knowledge that  there  are  errors,  so  great  as  to 
he  incompatible  with  the  true  fear  of  God;  and 
dogmas  of  such  a  nature,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  attend  to  them,  without  overturning  religion 
allog(!ther.  They  give  an  idea  of  God  directly 
opj)osed  to  his  perfections.  But  in  this  place  I 
do  not  speak  of  tiieso  misrepresentations  and 
errors,  but  of  the  questions  started  by  the  house 
of  Ibrael,  and  tho  groundless  objections  raised 
among  ourselves  in  the  present  day;  and  I  af- 
firm, that  it  is  ridiculous  to  neglect  the  practi- 
cal parts  of  religion,  and  to  be  absorbed  (to  use 
such  an  expression,)  to  waste  tho  capacity  of 
the  mind  on  tho  study  of  curious  and  useless 


Ser.  XCIX.] 


AND  OF  MAN  TO  GOD. 


413 


questions,  to  the  neglcnt  of  essential  and  indis- 
pensable duties.  God  has  intunatod  to  us,  that 
these  points  are  of  minor  importance,  when 
compared  with  practical  duties,  by  being  less 
explicit  in  liis  declarations,  less  clear  in  his  ex- 
planations concerning  tliem.  We  cannot  sup- 
pose that  a  God  infinitely  wise  and  good,  who 
delights  in  tlie  welfare  of  liis  creatures,  would 
hide  in  darkness  those  precepts,  and  those 
truths,  which  are  intimately  connected  with 
their  salvation,  while  lie  tlirew  light  on  those 
that  have  no  relation  to  their  present  and  fu- 
ture liappiness  or  misery. 

Ho  has  tiien  arranged  each  in  its  own  place, 
and  given  its  proper  im|)ortance  to  practice, 
while  he  lias  left  some  scope  for  speculation: 
the  practical  parts  of  religion  must  be  regard- 
ed as  the  essentials;  the  speculative  parts  as 
mere  accessories.  A  man,  who  in  liis  spiritual 
life  should  neglect  the  great  duties  attached  to 
his  profession,  or  sacrifice  them  to  those  unim- 
portant researches,  is  like  one,  who  in  the  na- 
tural life,  should  neglect  to  take  food,  till  he 
had  studied  its  nature,  and  perfectly  understood 
the  effect  it  would  take,  and  its  connexion  with 
the  body. 

Besides,  if  we  allow  the  desire  of  penetrat- 
ing into  hidden  things  to  be  in  itself  praise-wor- 
thy, and  we  make  a  considerable  progress  in 
tlie  knowledge  of  them,  we  shall  still  under- 
stand them  but  imperfectly,  and  be  guilty  of 
great  rashness  in  pushing  our  researches  be- 
yond a  certain  limit.  Here  appears  an  impor- 
tant difference  between  a  person  of  an  exalted 
mind,  and  one  of  a  meaner  capacity.  A  mean 
capacity  is  easily  overcome  by  what  are  called 
the  great  difficulties  in  religion;  the  mysteries 
of  the  decrees  of  God;  his  eternity  and  his  om- 
nipresence. On  the  other  hand,  a  superior 
mind  feels  that  all  these  difficulties  carry  their 
solution  with  them;  when  he  meditates  on  ab- 
struse subjects,  he  does  it  with  the  full  convic- 
tion that  he  can  never  perfectly  understand 
them,  and  he  stops  when  he  has  pursued  them 
to  a  certain  length.  I  here  recollect  a  remark- 
able passage  in  the  fourth  Book  of  Esdras. 
The  author  there  represents  himself  as  raising 
tlie  same  objections  and  diflicnlties  respectincr 
the  conduct  of  God  towards  his  people,  and  de- 
siring an  angel  to  explain  them  to  him.  The 
angel  satisfies  him  by  relating  the  following  in- 
genious fable: 

I  went  into  a  forest  into  a  plain,  and  the 
trees  took  counsel,  and  said.  Come,  let  us  go 
and  make  war  against  the  sea,  that  it  may  de- 
part away  before  us,  and  that  we  may  make  us 
more  woods.  The  floods  of  the  sea  also  in  like 
manner  took  counsel,  and  said.  Come,  let  us 
go  upland  subdue  the  woods  of  the  plain,  that 
there  *lso  we  may  make  us  another  country. 
The  thouglit  of  the  wood  was  in  vain,  for  the 
fire  came  and  consumed  it.  The  thought  of 
the  floods  of  the  sea  came  likewise  to  nought, 
for  the  sand  stood  up  and  stopped  them.  If 
thou  wert  judge  now  betwixt  these  two,  whom 
wouldst  thou  begin  to  justify?  or  whom  wouldst 
tliou  condemn?  I  answered  and  said.  Verily  it 
is  a  foolish  thought  that  they  both  have  devis- 
ed, for  the  ground  is  given  unto  tlie  wood,  and 
the  sea  also  hath  his  place  to  bear  his  floods. 
Tlien  answered  he  me,  and  said.  Thou  hast 


given  a  right  judgment,  but  why  judgest  thou 
not  thyself  also.  For  like  as  the  ground  ia 
given  unto  the  wood,  and  the  sea  unto  his 
floods,  even  so  they  that  dwell  upon  the  earth 
may  understand  nothing  but  that  which  is  upon 
the  earth;  and  he  that  dwellcth  upon  the  hea- 
vens may  only  understand  the  things  that  are 
above  the  height  of  the  heavens. 

Let  us  apply  this  fable  to  ourselves;  let  U3 
forsake  this  unequal  way,  and  embrace  an  equal 
way;  let  us  quit  the  paths  of  darkness,  and 
walk  in  the  brilliant  paths  of  light;  and  let  not 
our  inability  to  understand  certain  abstruse 
parts  of  religion,  prevent  us  from  acquiescing 
in  plain  truth,  that  we  must  be  converted,  if 
we  would  live.     "Turn  ye,  and  live." 

Secondly.  The  ways  of  God  arc  the  ways 
of  justice;  those  of  the  house  of  Israel  were 
ways  of  calumny  and  blasphemy.  Here  we 
recur  to  the  proverb,  which  we  find  at  tiie  be- 
ginning of  tlie  clia|)ter  from  which  the  text  is 
taken,  and  which  gave  the  chief  occasion  for 
the  words  that  we  are  explaining;  "  Our  fathers 
have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth 
are  set  on  edge."  The  meaning  of  this  pro- 
verb is  obvious;  the  Jews  therein  intimate  that 
God  punishes  posterity  for  the  sins  of  tlieir  an- 
cestors; that  they  were  actually  suffering  at 
that  time,  for  crimes  committed  by  their  fa- 
thers, in  whicli  they  had  no  share.  This  pro-' 
verb  was  very  common  among  them.  The 
Jews  taken  captive  with  Jehoiachim  used  it  in 
Babylon:  those  who  remained  in  Judea  em- 
ployed it  also.  And  while  Ezekiel  expostulat- 
ed with  the  former,  in  the  words  of  the  text, 
Jeremiah  addressed  a  similar  warning  to  the 
latter,  in  the  xxxist  chapter  of  his  prophecies. 
It  is  difficult  to  trace  the  origin  of  so  odious  an 
idea.  There  are,  however,  some  passages  of 
Scripture  from  which  it  must  have  been  inferred. 
God  had  declared  not  only  that  he  was  a  jea- 
lous God,  but  that  he  would  "visit  the  sins  of 
the  fathers  upon  the  children,  unto  the  third 
and  fourth  generations;"  and  had  justified  in 
several  instances  this  idea  that  he  had  given  of 
himself  When  Moses  had  addressed  to  him 
that  fervent  prayer  contained  in  the  xxxiid 
chapter  of  Exodus,  by  which  this  lawgiver 
averted  the  punishments  due  to  the  Israelites 
for  the  idolatry  of  the  golden  calf,  God  an- 
swered, "  In  the  day  when  I  visit,  I  will  visit 
their  sin  upon  them."  From  this  expression 
the  Jews  thought,  that  if  God  extended  his 
pardon  to  those  who  were  guilty  of  this  idola- 
try, he  would  reserve  his  vengeance  for  a  fu- 
ture period,  and  throw  the  sin  and  punishment 
of  it  on  posterity.  In  the  works  of  one  of  the 
Jewish  writers  there  is  this  remarkable  passage, 
"There  is  aflliction  thou  art  suffering  at  this 
time,  O  Israel!  that  is  not  increased  by  the 
idolatry  of  the  golden  calf" 

The  holy  Scriptures  furnish  numerous  in- 
stances, in  which  we  see  the  children  sharing 
the  punishment  due  to  the  crimes  of  their  pa- 
rents. In  some  cases  we  even  see  the  punish- 
ments fall  on  the  children,  while  the  fathers 
were  altogether  exempt  from  suffering.  The 
family  of  Achan  were  included  in  the  judg- 
ment of  their  father.  The  descendants  of  Saul 
were  punished  for  his  perfidy  towards  the  Gi- 
beonitcs.     The  child  born  to  David,  by  Bath- 


414 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  GOD  TO  MEN, 


[Ser.  XCIX. 


■heba,  died  a  premature  death,  to  expiate  a 
crime  of  adultury,  for  whicli  lie  could  not  be 
held  res[)onsil)!c. 

But  the  most  remarkable  circumstance  in 
tlie  subject  now  niulcr  consideration,  is,  tliat 
the  two  great  divisions  of  the  Jews,  tliat  of 
the  ten  tribes,  and  Ihtit  of  the  kingdom  of  Jii- 
dah,  are  sometimes  represented  as  tiie  ])cnalty 
duo  to  crimes  committed  by  men  who  had 
ceased  to  live  before  they  hap[)cned.  Hear 
what  the  prophet  Ahijah  said  to  the  wife  of 
Jeroboam,  "  Cio  tell  Jeroboam,  Thus  saitli  the 
Lord  God  of  Israel,  forusniucJi  as  I  exalted  thee 
from  among  the  people,  and  made  thee  prince 
over  my  people  Israel,  and  rent  tiic  kingdom 
away  from  the  house  of  David,  and  gave  it 
thee,  and  yet  thou  hast  not  been  as  my  servant 
David.  Therefore,  behold  I  will  bring  evil 
upon  the  house  of  Jeroboam;  him  that  dieth  of 
Jeroboam  in  tiie  city,  shall  the  dogs  eat,  and 
liim  that  dieth  in  the  field,  shall  tlie  fowls  of 
the  air  eat,  and  he  shall  give  Israel  up  because 
of  the  sins  of  Jeroboam." 

This  relates  to  the  captivity  of  the  ten  tribes; 
and  we  find  the  same  judgments  pronounced 
against  the  kingdom  of  Judali.  "  Because 
Manasseh,  king  of  Judah,  hath  done  these 
abominations,  and  hath  done  wickedly  above 
all  that  tlie  Amorites  did,  which  were  before 
him,  and  hath  made  Judah  also  to  sin  with  his 
idols,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  God  of  Is- 
rael, I  am  briuiring  such  evil  upon  Jerusalem, 
and  Judali,  and  1  will  stretcii  over  Jerusalem 
the  line  of  Samaria,"  2  Kings  xxi.  11 — 13. 
Thus  there  seemed  to  be  some  foundation  for 
the  proverb,  "  The  Fathers  have  eaten  sour 
grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth  arc  set  on 
edge." 

JJut  this  reproach  was  in  itself  a  spot  of 
guilt;  and  in  tiiis  second  point  of  view  the  way 
of  God  is  equal,  and  the  way  of  Israel  unequal: 
that  the  way  of  God  is  a  way  of  justice,  and 
that  of  the  house  of  Israel  a  way  of  blasphemy 
and  calumny. 

It  is  not  necessary  in  this  place  to  discuss  the 
abstruse  and  diflicidt  doctrine  of  original  sin. 
^Ve  are  accused  l)y  some  theologiansof  not  en- 
tering at  siilficicnt  length  on  this  subject,  and 
of  keeping  it  enveloped  in  obscurity;  but  if  we 
attempted  to  contradict  the  false  and  pedantic 
ideas,  and  to  correct  the  mistakes  prevalent, 
we  should  find  ourselves  involved  in  diliiculties, 
and  should  |>roi>al)ly  render  little  service  to  the 
cause  we  undertook  to  advocate.  We  are  well 
convinc<;d  that  means  would  not  be  wanting  to 
justify  religion  from  any  a|)parent  contradic- 
tions, but  we  leave  this  task  to  other  hands; 
we  are  not  here  to  treat  of  original  sin,  our 
concern  is  with  the  line  of  conduct  that  God 


Becaufse  we  cannot  reconcile  the  doctrine  of 
Jmputed  crime,  with  the  rewards  offered  as  in- 
centives to  virtue,  sliould  we  renounce  the 
practice  of  virtue.'  Let  us  examine  ourselves, 
my  brethren,  let  us  inquire  what  are  our 
thoughts  of  God,  whether  they  are  consistent 
with  the  humility  we  ought  to  possess;  let  us 
defend  our  sentiments  with  more  modesty,  and 
recollect,  that  the  best  solution  of  the  difficul- 
ties in  religion  ami  I'rovidence,  is  a  conviction, 
and  confession,  that  we  are  weak  and  short- 
sighted, that  our  capacity  is  limited,  and  we 
arc  mistaken. 

2.  We  should  consider  the  import  of  the  de- 
clarations against  whi(di  the  house  of  Israel  so 
insolently  rchellod.  When  (îod  declared  that 
for  tiie  sin  of  Manasseh,  he  would  in  after  ages 
bring  destruction  on  Jerusalem,  did  he  say, 
that  the  subjects  should  be  involved  in  everlast- 
ing misery  for  tiie  crimes  of  their  king?  I  can- 
didly acknowledge,  my  brethren,  that  this  ap- 
pears severe;  and,  at  first  view,  unjust.  If  one 
commit  a  crime  fifty  3'cars  ago,  and  for  this 
crime,  his  son  shall  be  condemned  to  eternal 
torments  while  he  escapes  unpunished,  I  own 
that,  whatever  is  my  idea  of  Divine  omni- 
science and  omnipresence,  as  well  as  of  the 
weakness  of  my  own  understanding,  I  could 
hardly  persuade  mj'self  to  regard  as  a  transcript 
of  the  Divine  will,  a  book  in  which  such  a  doc- 
trine was  held  out,  unreservedly  and  without 
restrictions.  But  to  put  the  case  in  a  different 
light,  we  will  suppo.se  that  a  king  committed  a 
crime,  and  that  his  posterity  sliall  at  a  future 
period  suffer  some  temporal  chastisement;  in 
this  we  see  no  shadow  of  injustice;  the  differ- 
ence between  this,  and  the  first  mentioned  case, 
is  wide.  God  can  make  no  amends  to  man 
whom  he  shuts  up  in  eternal  misery,  but  he 
can  amply  compensate  the  trouble  endured  by 
him,  who  is  involved  in  the  temporal  calami- 
tics  of  a  rebellious  people.  A  nation  may  be 
compared  to  the  huuian  body;  it  has  its  seasons 
of  youth,  manhood,  and  old  age.  God  may 
visit  in  old  age  the  sins  committed  in  youth. 
If  he  in  mercy  spared  his  people  during  the  first 
years  of  tiieir  rebellion,  he  is  obliged  by  his 
justice,  to  punish  thorn  severely,  when  their 
posterity,  fur  from  repairing  tiie  crimes  of  their 
ancestors,  become  partisans  in  them. 

Tliere  is  one  evil  whicli  naturally  and  una- 
voidably results  from  this  law,  that  if  amon^ 
this  guilty  nation,  there  be  an  individual,  who 
abliors  from  his  heart,  and  abstains  in  ])ractico 
from  tlicir  wickedness,  he  will  jicrisli  with 
them;  but  such  a  one  God  will  abundantly  re- 
pay. The  same  stroke  which  brings  destruc- 
tion on  the  guilty,  shall  crown  the  righteous 
with  glory;  in  his  life  it  will  draw  him  off  from 


pursued  with  regard  to  the  people  to  whom  the  I  temporal  things,  by  depriving  liiui  of  tile  ob- 


prophet  was  sjicaking;  and  in  this  view  the 
way  of  the  Israelites  was  a  way  of  culuninv 
and  blasphemy,  in  opposition  to  the  way  of 
God,  whicli  was  one  of  justice  and  equity. 

1.   Admitting  that  our  understanding  is  not 
sufficiently   illinninated,   to    conipreheiid  how 


ject  of  his  wislies,  but  it  will  render  him  more 
meet  foi'  eternal  joy.  The  same  stroke  which 
precipitates  the  wicked  into  the  deepest  re- 
cesses of  infernal  torments,  will  open  the  gates 
of  heaven  to  the  just,  and  admit  him  to  an 
eternity  of  bliss.      (!od  expressly  declared  to 


God  can,  consistently  with  ju.-ilice,  punish  pos- j  the    Israelites,    that   although    he    commonly 
terity  for  crimes  rorumittcd  by  their  forefathers,  '  punished  the  children  for  the  sins  of  their  fa- 


are  we  on  that  account  to  accuse  him  of  ini- 
quity.' Because  wo  do  not  understand  tlio  mo- 
tives which  influence  the  Divine  dispensations, 
shall  wo  take  upon  ourselves  to  condemn  them.' 


thers,  thus  visiting  them  on  the  third  and 
fourth  generations,  he  would  not  do  so  in  their 
case.  If  the  condemnation  pronounced,  on  ac- 
count of  the  sill  of  Manasseh,  appeared  un- 


Ser.  XCIX.] 


AND  OF  MEN  TO  GOD. 


415 


justly  severe,  ho  revoked  it  in  tlieir  favour;  ho 
declared  to  tliem  that  he  would  for<jet  the  sins 
of  tlieir  king,  and  all  their  idolatry,  and  act 
toward  them  as  if  this  wicked  monarch  had 
promoted  instead  of  endeavoured  to  destroy  re- 
ligion and  virtue.     He  might  have  thus  ad- 
dressed them:  "  You  coniiilain  of  my  conduct 
in  punishing  the  children  for  the  sin  of  their 
fathers,  you  charge  it  with  injustice;  I  will 
punish  your  sin  by  acting  ditferently  towards 
you.     I  will  judge  you  according  to  your  ways. 
In  those  days  they  shall  say  no  more,  "  The 
fathers  have  eaten  a  sour  grape,  and  the  chil- 
dren's teeth  are  set  on  edge.     But  every  man 
that  eateth  the  sour  grape,  his  teeth  shall  he 
set  on  edge,"  Jcr.  xxxi.  29,  30;  "and  to  him 
that  hath  not  eaten  upon  the  mountains,  nei- 
ther hath  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  the  idols  of  the  i 
house  of  Israel;  hath  not  defiled  his  neighbour's 
wife;   neither  hath  oppressed   any;    hath  not 
withholdcn  the  ])ledge;  neither  hath  s])oiled  by 
violence;  but  hath  given  his  bread  to  the  poor, 
and  Covered  the  naked  with  a  garment.     J5ut 
again.    The  soul  that  sinncth,  it  shall  die;  the 
son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of  the  father; 
neither  shall  the  father  bear  the  ini(]uity  of  the 
son;  the  righteousness  of  the  righteous  shall  be 
upon  him,  and  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked 
shall  be  upon  him,"  Ezek.  xviii.  15.  20. 

But  was  it  just,  was  it  reasonable,  that  a 
nation  guilty  not  only  of  sins,  but  of  crimes  of 
the  blackest  dye,  and  the  most  aggravated  na- 
ture, a  people  chargeable  with,  and  actually 
committing  at  that  time,  all  the  abominations 
with  which  God  reproached  their  forefathers, 
and  who,  according  to  the  language  of  Jesus 
Christ,  "  filled  up  the  measure  of  their  fathers," 
Matt,  xxiii.  32;  given  to  idolatry,  lascivious- 
ness,  and  covetousness,  forgetful  of  God,  and 
who  neglected  his  worship;  was  it  reasonable, 
I   inquire,  that   a   people  of  this   description 
should  seek  so  anxiously,  should  spend  their 
time  in  making  fruitless  researches  into  tho 
history  of  former  generations,  for  the  causes 
of  tho  |)unishments  they  endured?     Was  there 
not  sulficient  reason  in  their  own  sinful  and 
guilty  conduct,  for  the  infliction  of  scourges 
still  more  dreadful?     How  did  they  dare,  who, 
to  recall  the  language  of  their  o;vn  proverb, 
had  the  sour  grape  still  between  their  teeth, 
and  far  from  loathing  and  abhorring  it,  made 
it  their   delight,  to  say,   "  Tho  fathers  have 
eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth  are 
set  on  edge?"     Put  the  case  to  your  considera- 
tion, my  brethren,  in  another  form;  let  us  suj)- 
pose  we  ourselves  in  inquiring  the  causes  of 
tho  Divine  judgments  which  fall  continually 
on  us,  were  to  look  back  to  the  first  ages  of 
this  nation,  to  examine  the  characters  and  con- 
duct of  our  first  conquerors,  by  what  unjust 
and  cruel  means  they  attained  the  object  of 
their  ambition;  with  what  sinister  views  they 
framed  our  constitution;  how  many  widows 
and  orphans  they  ojjpressed;  how  they  polluted 
the  holy  places,  and  profaned  the  sanctuaries; 
how  insensible  they  were  to  the  sufferings  of 
tho  church;  how  all  their  plans  were  formed 
without  regarding  the  prosperity  of  religion; 
how  worldly  was  their  policy;  how  they  per- 
secuted tho  ministers  and  servants  of  God,  who 
boldly  and  zealously  reproved  their  crimes? 
And  were  to  tiaco  back  to  them  as  did  the 


Jews,  tho  severe  dispensations  of  God,  we 
should  then  be  involved  in  the  same  guilty  and 
b]as[)hemous  conduct  as  they  wore. 

But  do  wo  suppo.so  we  should  be  gainers,  if 
God  were  to  forgot  the  crimes  of  our  fathers, 
and  to  judge  every  one  according  to  his  own 
works?  My  brethren,  let  the  blind  and  mis- 
guided heathens  say,  Jhlicla  majorwn  imineri- 
tus  lues,  Ilomane.  0  ye  iimocent  Romans,  ye 
nmst  expiate  the  sins  of  your  ancestors.  Far 
from  supposing  that  the  hou.se  of  Israel  were 
suffering  for  the  sins  of  tlieir  fathers,  let  us  re- 
member the  words  of  Jeremiah,  and  apply 
them  not  only  to  the  children  of  Israel,  but 
view  them  as  pointing  to  us  also.  "  And  it 
shall  come  to  pass,  when  thou  slialt  show  this 
l)cople  all  these  words,  and  they  shall  say  unto 
thee.  Wherefore  hath  the  Lord  pronounced 
all  this  great  evil  again.st  us,  or  what  is  our 
inifiuity,  or  what  is  our  sin,  that  we  have 
conunitted  against  the  Lord  our  God?  Then 
shalt  thou  say  unto  them,  because  your  fathers 
have  forsaken  me,  saith  the  Lord,  and  have 
walked  after  other  gods,  and  have  served  them, 
and  have  worshij)ped  them,  and  have  not  kept 
my  law,  and  ye  have  done  worse  than  your 
fiithcrs;  for  behold  ye  walk  every  one  after  tho 
imagination  of  his  evil  heart,  therefore  will  I 
cast  you  out  of  this  land  into  a  land  that  ye 
know  not,  neither  ye  nor  your  fathers,  and 
there  shall  ye  serve  other  gods  day  and  night, 
where  I  will  not  show  you  favour." 

3.  We  observed  in  the  former  part  of  this 
discourse,  that  the  ways  of  God  were  ways  of 
mercy  and  kindness,  and  those  of  the  Israel- 
ites, were  on  the  contrary,  ways  of  malignity 
and  despair. 

This  will  lead  us,  in  concluding  this  dis- 
course, more  closely  to  consider  and  meditate 
upon  these  delightful  and  consolatory  words 
in  our  text,  "  Cast  away  from  you  all  your 
transgressions,  whereby  ye  have  transgressed; 
and  make  you  a  new  heart,  and  a  new  spirit; 
for  why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel?  For  I 
have  no  ))leasure  in  the  deatli  of  him  that 
dieth,  saith  the  Lord  God,  wherefore  turn 
yourselves,  and  live  ye." 

The  Israelites  carried  their  fury  and  despair 
to  so  great  a  length,  that  when  the  prophets 
denounced  upon  them  the  judgments  of  God, 
they  drew  the  inference,  that  they  were  con- 
demned without  hope  of  mercy.  They  regard- 
ed tho  Divinity  as  a  cruel  and  unjust  Being, 
who  delighted  to  overwhelm  them  with  mis- 
fortunes, instead  of  considering  him  in  his  true 
character,  as  a  merciful  and  gracious  God, 
who  called  them  to  repentance  by  his  threaten- 
ings,  and  who  declared  to  them,  that  in  the 
riches  of  his  mercy  there  was  yet  a  way  open 
to  salvation;  they  rejected  all  the  offers  of  his 
grace  as  deceitful  words,  and  thought  any  acts 
of  humiliation  or  repentance  that  they  could 
attempt,  to  avert  the  divine  anger,  very  un- 
likely to  produce  any  effects  on  decrees  already 
become  irrevocable. 

There  are  in  the  sacred  volume  two  passages, 
that  point  remarkably  to  this  subject.  The 
first  that  I  shall  notice,  is  in  the  eighteenth 
chapter  of  Jeremiah;  God  after  having  humbled 
the  people  by  tho  predictions  of  their  ap])oach- 
ing  desolation,  again  proposed  to  thoni  means 
to  avert  its  dreadful  consequences.     He  desired 


416 


THE  CONDUCT  OF  GOD  TO  MEN, 


[Ser.  XCIX. 


tho  prophet  to  suppose  himself  placed  in  the 
workshop  of  a  potter,  who  having  broken  a 
vessel  that  ho  had  formed  of  clay,  moulded  it 
into  anotiier  form,  thus  of  the  same  clay  mak- 
ing a  new  vessel.  God  himself  interpreted 
this  figure.  "  O  house  of  Israel,  cannot  I  do 
with  you  as  this  potter?  saitli  tho  Lord.  Be- 
hold as  tlie  clay  is  in  the  potter's  hand,  sO  are 
ye  in  mine  hand,  O  liouse  of  Israel.  At  what 
instant  I  shall  speak  concerning  a  nation,  and 
concerning  a  kingdom,  to  pluck  up,  and  to  pull 
down,  and  to  destroy  it;  if  that  nation  against 
whom  I  have  pronounced,  turn  from  their 
evil,  I  will  repent  of  the  evil  that  I  thought  to 
do  unto  them,"  Jer.  xviii.  6 — 8.  Jeremiah 
instantly  siiowed  this  vision  to  tho  Israelites, 
and  explained  to  them  its  application.  But 
this  misguided  people,  far  from  accepting  the 
Divine  offer,  and  clinging  to  the  only  hope  left 
for  them,  answered,  in  the  twelfth  verse  of  the 
same  chapter:  "  There  is  no  hope,  but  we  will 
walk  after  our  own  devices,  and  we  will  every 
one  do  the  imagination  of  his  evil  heart."  The 
other  passage  referred  to,  is  in  the  prophecies  of 
Ezekiel,  who  thus  addresses  the  Israelites  in 
the  words  of  Jehovah  himself  "  Thus  ye 
speak,  saying;  "  If  our  transgressions  and  our 
sins,  be  upon  us,  and  we  pine  away  in  them, 
how  should  we  tiien  live?"  Ezek.  xxxiii.  10.. 
These  were  the  blasphemous  expressions  that 
they  dared  to  utter  against  the  Divine  Majesty. 
God  is  always  jealous  of  his  glor}',  but  par- 
ticularly so  of  his  mercy,  which  forms  tiie 
brightest  part  of  his  perfection,  and  shone 
forth  with  tlie  greatest  lustre  throughout  his 
dealings  with  this  people.  Let  us,  my  bre- 
thren, apply  tliese  instructions  to  ourselves;  it 
often  happens  among  us,  tliat  sinners  become 
confirmed  in  their  impenitence  by  despair  of 
pardon;  or,  in  other  words,  despair  of  pardon 
serves  for  a  pretext  to  continue  in  their  sin;  or, 
in  the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  to  do  the  ima- 
gination of  their  evil  heart."  But  when  we 
view  the  Divine  dispensations,  either  towards 
us,  as  a  nation,  or  individually,  through  the 
mercies  of  God,  we  shall  find  no  foundation 
for  the  sup])osition,  "  that  there  is  no  hope  left 
for  us,  for  the  attainment  of  everlasting  life." 
It  is  true,  that  God  has  sent  his  ministers  to 
denounce  his  judgments  upon  this  nation;  it  is 
true,  that  they  have  sometimes  represented  it 
as  at  the  point  of  ruin,  and  that  they  were  au- 
thorized to  say  so.  "  Tlie  end  is  come  upon 
my  people  of  Israel,  I  will  not  again  pass  by 
them  any  more,"  Amos  viii.  2.  "  Yet  forty 
days,  ami  Nineveh  shall  be  destroyed,"  Jonah 
iii.  4.  Tiiough  Moses  and  Samuel  stood  be- 
fore mc,  yet  my  mind  could  not  be  towards 
this  people,  cast  them  out  of  my  sight,  and  let 
them  go  forth,  .^nd  it  shall  come  to  pass,  if 
they  say  unto  theo,  whither  shall  we  go  fortlt' 
then  shalt  tliou  tell  them,  Thussaith  the  Lord, 
such  as  are  for  death,  to  death;  and  such  as 
are  for  the  sword,  to  the  sword;  and  such  as 
are  for  the  fimino,  to  the  famine;  and  such  as 
are  for  the  captivity,  to  tho  captivity,"  Jer. 
XV.  1 .  We  have  seen  part  of  these  predictions 
accomplislicd  in  ages  tiiat  are  past,  there- 
fore we  iiave  every  reason  to  suppose  tiiey  will 
receive  a  full  acc<jMi|)lishment.  But  let  us  in- 
i|uirp,  what  was  liie  object  (!od  had  in  view, 
iu  ail  these  dispunsalious.-'     What  was  Uie  end 


proposed  by  these  judgments?  All  tend  to  the 
same  conclusion.  God  sought  for  the  just,  for 
those  who  still  remained  faithful  to  him,  or, 
rather  he  sought  those  penitent  and  humble 
sinners  who,  by  their  tears,  their  repentance, 
and  return  to  God,  obtained  mercy,  and  avert- 
ed tho  stroke  of  his  justice.  Thus  we  see, 
that  God  is  full  of  compassion,  as  well  as 
mercy;  he  showed  his  tenderness  towards  us  as 
much,  when  ho  sent  a  mortality  among  our 
cattle,  as  when  he  preserved  their  life;  when 
he  sent  floods  of  water  over  the  country,  as 
when  he  made  it  fruitful;  when  he  shipwreck- 
ed our  vessels,  as  when  he  filled  their  sails  with 
a  favourable  wind  and  brought  them  safe  into 
port. 

His  loving-kindness  is  visible  when  ho  gives 
us  over  to  our  enemies,  as  well  as  when  he 
crowns  us  with  victory;  when  ho  delivers  our 
possessions  into  tho  hands  of  others,  as  much 
as  when  he  increases  our  wealth;  when  he 
sends  national  calamities  as  when  he  gives  us 
prosperity.  His  favours,  his  judgments,  all 
call  upon  us  to  repent,  to  be  converted,  that 
we  may  enjoy  everlasting  felicity.  O  highly- 
favoured,  beloved  nation,  if  while  his  wrath 
was  hot  against  thee,  he  still  opened  so  many 
cities  of  refuge,  when  he  was  ready  to  over- 
whelm thee  with  his  judgments,  what  is  his 
favour  now,  he  is  loading  thee  with  benefits. 

0  highly-favoured  nation,  if  God  so  power- 
fully protected  thee  during  the  years  of  thy 
rebellion,  whilst  thou  wast  lukewarm  in  his 
service,  and  living  in  the  habitual  neglect  of 
his  sabbatlis,  whilst  thou  wast  harbouring  in 
thy  bosom  his  bitterest  enemies  and  forgetting 
all  his  holy  laws,  in  the  dissipations  of  the 
world,  how  would  he  act  towards  thee  if  thou 
became  grateful  and  sensible  of  his  goodness.' 
How  would  he  distinguisli  thee  with  his  mercy, 
if,  amidst  the  rebellious  spirit  of  the  age,  thou 
wast  the  open  and  declared  friend  of  religion, 
and  openly  defended  it  from  the  attacks  of  its 
inveterate  foes?  if  thou  makest  his  sabbatlis 
thy  delight,  attend  diligently  on  his  worship 
with  fervour,  devotion,  humility,  zeal,  and  all 
those  feelings  of  self-abasement,  which  become 
human  beings  when  approaching  the  throne  of 
their  Creator,  to  pay  tlieir  adoration,  and  to 
praise  him  for  their  existence  and  happiness? 

What  I  have  here  remarked  as  applied  to 
the  nation  is  suitable  also  to  every  individual 
composing  it;  none  has  any  reason  to  say, 
there  is  no  hope,  how  shall  we  live?    There  is, 

1  acknowledge,  among  us  a  class  of  sinners, 
who  appear  to  have  exhausted  tho  stores  of  the 
Divine  mercy,  and  seem  to  have  reason  for  in- 
quiring, how  shall  we  live?  ^Vo  would  answer 
this  question  by  another,  Why  will  ye  die?  I 
would  still  oppose  the  mercy  of  my  God  to 
their  terror  and  unbelief:  yes,  to  the  most 
guilty  I  would  repeat  this  otter;  let  him,  with 
all  his  objections,  and  as  well  as  he  is  able, 
with  all  tiie  reasons  he  has  for  despairing  of 
pardon,  let  him  look  back  on  a  life  stained  by 
the  commission  of  crimes,  and  let  him  search 
into  all  the  poisoned  sources  of  despair,  for  any 
thing  to  justify  this  proposition;  there  is  no 
hope,  how  shall  we  live?  I  will  throw  open  to 
his  view  all  the  treasures  of  God's  mercy, 
which  will  ciue  all  his  wounds,  if  ho  will  re- 
sort to  them;  I  will  display  the  deptlis  of  the 


Ser.  C] 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


4n 


loving-kindness  of  the  Lord,  wliich  will  give 
life  to  his  soul;  and,  I  will  oppose  to  all  tlic 
objections  that  his  fears  may  suggest,  "  Why 
will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israelr" 

Perhaps  ye  may  say,  there  is  no  hope,  how 
then  can  we  live?  we  have  offended  a  God  who 
is  of  purer  eyes  tlian  to  behold  iniipiity.  A 
God  in  whose  sight  the  heavens  are  not  jjure; 
a  God  in  whose  awful  presence  even  the  sera- 
phim hide  their  faces  with  their  wings.  But 
why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel?  This  God, 
although  holy,  is  not  ine.xorable,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  enforces  the  strictest  observance 
of  his  orders,  he  pities  those  who  stray  from 
them;  he  knows  of  what  we  are  made,  he 
knows  that  we  are  weak,  and  unablo  to  keep 
ourselves  from  falling. 

There  is  no  hope,  how  shall  we  live?  wo 
have  engaged  ourselves  as  servants  to  sin  and 
iniquity,  and  "the  wages  of  sin  is  death," 
Rom.  vi.  23.  And  according  to  this,  if  God 
remain  just,  the  sinner  must  die.  But  why 
will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel,  justice  is  satis- 
fied, Jesus  Christ  "  was  made  sin  for  us,"  2 
Cor.  v.  21.  He  took  upon  himself  the  burden  of 
our  sins,  and  the  pimishment  due  to  them.  If 
any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  1  John,  ii. 
1.  "  If  God  be  for  us,  who  shall  be  against 
us;  he  that  spared  not  his  own  son,  but  deli- 
vered him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with 
him  freely  give  us  all  things;  who  shall  lay 
any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect?  It  is 
God  that  justifieth." 

But  it  is  sometimes  said,  "  There  is  no  hope, 
how  can  we  live?"  Tlie  sins  we  have  com- 
mitted, do  not  come  under  the  description  of 
human  frailties.  They  wore  sins  committed 
malignantly,  and  the  influence  of  the  W(5rst 
passions,  with  the  most  inveterate  hatred,  im- 
purity, adultery,  injustice,  and  crimes  of  the 
blackest  die,  "  But  why  v^'ill  ye  die,  O  house 
of  Israel?"  There  is  a  fountain  of  life  open  for 
the  house  of  David,  The  same  God  wlio  ex- 
horts you  in  the  words  of  the  text,  to  make 
you  a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit,  promises  to 
give  you  one.  There  is  nothing  can  oppose 
these  powerful  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  nothing  can  hinder  him  from  acting  upon 
us,  and  he  will  elTectually  assist  us,  if  we  ask 
him  in  sincerity,  and  humbly  yield  ourselves 
to  his  direction  and  influence. 

But  again,  "  There  is  no  hope,  how  shall 
we  live-'"  We  have  lived  so  long  in  our  sins, 
it  is  too  late  for  repentance.  Too  late  did  you 
Bay;  those  who  now  say  it  is  too  late,  have 
often  replied  to  our  serious  exhortations  and 
earnest  entreaties,  it  is  too  soon;  "  But  why 
will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel?"  It  can  never 
be  too  late  to  be  converted,  if  you  are  really 
desirous  of  salvation.  The  irrevocable  sen- 
tence yet  remains  unpronounced.  At  all  events 
it  is  not  yet  executed — the  day  of  grace  still 
remains — the  treasures  of  God's  mercy  are 
still  open — his  loving-kindness  and  long-suffer- 
ing still  remains  the  same;  "  Behold  now  is  the 
accepted  time,  behold  now  is  the  day  of  salva- 
tion," 2  Cor.  vi.  2. 

But,  my  brethren,  do  not  suppose  that  the 

only  security  you  have  on  this  important  pomt 

is  the  mortal  voice,  which  now  proclaims  these 

consolatory  truths.      Listen  while  1  declare 

Vol.  II.— 53 


who  is  our  authority,  and  whence  we  derive 
our  commission.  Our  warrant  is  the  Holy 
(3ne  of  Israel,  and  in  confirmation  of  his  pro- 
mises, we  have  not  only  his  word,  but  his  oath. 
St.  Paul  says,  "  Men  verily  swear  by  the 
greater,  and  an  oath  iijr  confirmation  is  an  end 
of  all  strife,"  Hob.  vi.  6;  but  "  God,  because 
he  could  swear  by  no  greater,  sware  by  him- 
self (ver.  13,)  when  he  made  his  promise  to 
Abraham."  And  he  has  confirmed  witii  an 
oath  the  solemn  truths  that  we  have  just  been 
jireaching  to  you.  He  sware  the  most  sacred 
oath,  he  sware  by  himself,  in  the  twenty-third 
chapter  of  the  prophecies  of  Ezckicl,  "  As  I 
live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  the  wicked;  but  that  the  wick- 
ed turn  from  his  way  and  live:  turn  ye,  turn 
ye,  from  your  evil  way,  for  why  will  ye  die, 
O  house  of  Israel?" 

Oh!  how  delightful  must  be  the  service  of  so 
merciful  a  God,  what  a  motive  have  we  for 
energetic  exertions  for  the  conversion  of  men, 
when  we  have  such  a  security  for  its  success. 
How  must  they  be  infatuated,  who  rush  into 
the  abyss  of  despair,  when  their  Judge 'him- 
self has  declared,  that  he  is  willing  to  pardon 
our  guilt.  But  how  blind  must  they  be,  who, 
on  the  other  hand,  do  not  find  abundant  rea- 
son for  love  and  gratitude  towards  him  who 
has  made  us  such  rich  ofl'ers  of  grace,  and  who 
are  not  willing  to  devote  tliemselves  to  his  ser- 
vice. Let  us  then,  my  brethren,  let  us  say  in 
the  words  of  the  psalmist,  "  O  Lord,  there  is 
forgiveness  with  thee  that  tliou  niayest  be  fear- 
ed," Ps.  cxxx.  4.  "  I  will  hear  what  God  the 
Lord  will  speak;  for  he  will  speak  peace  unto 
his  people,  and  to  his  saints,  but  let  them  not 
turn  again  to  folly,"  Ps.  Ixxxv.  S.  May  God 
grant  to  us  this  pardon,  and  to  him  be  all  ho- 
nour and  glory,  both  now  and  ever.    Amen. 

SERMON  C. 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN 
AND  MARY. 


John  xix.  26,  27. 

wVoio  there  stood  hy  the  cross  of  Jesus  his  mother, 
and  his  mo(/icr's  sister,  J\Iary  the  iri/e  of  Cleo- 
]ihas,  and  JMary  J\Iagdalene.  When  Jesus 
therefore  saw  his  mother,  and  the  disciple  stand- 
ing by  whom  he  loved,  he  saith  unto  his  nio» 
ther,  Wotnan,  behold  thy  son.  Tlien  saith  he 
to  the  disciple.  Behold  thy  mother;  and  from 
that  hour  that  disciple  took  her  unto  his  own 
home. 

"  I  AM  become  a  stranger  unto  my  brethren, 
and  an  alien  unto  my  mother's  children,"  Ps. 
Ixix.  9.  "  My  lovers  and  my  friends  stand  aloof 
from  my  sore,  and  my  kinsmen  stand  afar  off," 
Ps.  xxxviii.  U.  The  prophets  who  predicted 
the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  introduce  him  to 
our  notice,  uttering  the  foregoing  language  of 
complaint,  in  which  is  depicted  one  of  the  bit- 
terest circumstances  of  his  life  of  sorrow;  and 
this  affecting  lamentation,  we  find  fully  justi- 
fied, when  we  view  our  Divine  Lord  and  Sa- 
viour, surrounded  by  an  unfeeling  crowd,  nail- 
ed to  his  cross,  enduring  all  the  agonies  of  hia 


418 


TiJE  ADDRESS  OF  CIHUST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


[  Ser.  C. 


dreadful  8cntence,  and  deserted  by  liis  disci- 
ples; abandoned  by  tlie  very  persons,  wiio  had 
Bolennnly  pledged  tlieniselvcs  to  servo  iiini  taitii- 
fully,  even  to  death.  'I'iiis  added  a  poignancy 
to  every  piiin  he  felt,  and  pointed  every  tlioni. 
For  whatever  may  he  tlie  acuteness  ol'  the  tor- 
nientâ  we  suffer,  they  beconio  comparatively 
light  wlicn  shared  and  softened  by  friendship. 
IJow  delightful  is  tlie  alfeclionate.symi)atiiy  of 
a  kind  father,  into  whose  bosom  we  can  jiour 
our  grief,  or  of  an  atleetiunatu  mother,  who 
wipes  away  every  tear. 

But,  my  bretliren,  if  tlic  Saviour  of  the 
world  felt  so  acutely  this  desertion  of  his  dis- 
ciples, and  those  for  whom  lie  had  shown  such 
a  lively  interest,  lie  felt  still  more  the  presence 
of  his  near  relations,  and  even  in  the  moments 
of  death,  manifested  a  tender  cun(tern  lor  their 
welfare.  We  now  hear  language  from  him 
quite  opposite  to  that  put  into  jiis  mouth  by 
the  pr()i)het.  We  hear  him  now  saying,  "  I  am 
acknowletlged  by  my  brethren,  and  recognised 
by  my  motlier's  children.  'I'hey  who  love  me 
stand  round  me,  and  my  friends  pity  my  sore." 
And  -experience  sliows  us,  that  how  ditlicult 
■  soever  to  bear,  how  appalling  soever  to  tiie 
mind,  may  be  tlie  preparations  for  death,  how 
agonizing  the  thoughts  of  a  |)atient  who  per- 
ceives the  countenance  of  his  i)liysiciaii  change, 
a  preacher  announce  to  him  tiie  approach  of 
his  last  hour,  or  a  cold  sweat,  the  i)recurteor  of 
death,  spread  itself  over  his  whole  body,  there 
is  still  a  more  heart-rending  pang  which  he 
feels  when  bidding  adieu  to  the  objects  of  his 
affectionate  solicitude  and  care.  In  |)erusing 
the  history  of  those  who  have  sidlered  martyr- 
dom, we  see  many  who  have  borne  with  cour- 
age and  firumess  the  view  of  the  executioners 
about  to  take  away  their  lives,  the  stake  to 
which  they  were  shortly  to  be  bound,  and  even 
of  the  flames  ready  to  devour  them,  and  put 
an  end  to  their  mortal  existence  in  the  most 
excruciating  tonnents,  whose  constancy  has 
yielded  in  the  presence,  and  sunk  under  the 
embraces,  of  those  who  were  dear  to  them. 

Jesus  C'hrist  is  presented  to  our  view  this) 
day,  my  brethren,  as  (;alled  to  sutler  such  a 
trial.  He  saw  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross,  Mary  his  mother,  ovcrwli(duied  with 
the  most  violent  grief  that  the  iuiagination 
can  depict,  called  to  witness  the  most  cruel 
spectacle  that  could  be  ])resented  to  mortal 
eyes,  borne  down,  and  almost  sinking  under 
the  weight  of  her  accumulated  sorrows.  The 
same  sword  which  transfixed  the  soul  of  this 
heart-broken  inother,  and  tlio.se  of  St.  .folin 
and  the  other  Mary's,  pien-ed  our  blessed  Ix)rd 
also.  He  felt  his  own  grief  as  well  us  theirs, 
thus,  sutVering  the  agony  of  a  double  crucifix- 
ion, and  dying  a  double  death.  lx;t  me  en- 
treat you,  my  brethriMi,  to  give  me  your  most 
earnest  attention,  and,  when  we  have  iiscer- 
tained  the  exact  iin|)ort  of  our  text,  to  consi- 
der seriously  the  instruction  which,  from  the 
uncertainty  of  life,  our  fate  may  soon,  perhaps, 
furnish  to  those  arcjiind  us;  or,  should  they 
first  receive  the  summons  from  the  king  of  ter- 
rors, the  les.soii  which  they  will  then  furnish 
to  us.     We  will  consider, 

1.  The  conflict  which  was  pa.ssing  in  tlie 
minds  of  Mary  and  St.  John,  vvhilo  eye-wit- 
oeeses  of  the  death  of  Clirist. 


2.  The  conflict,  or  rather  the  triumph  of  our 
Lord  himself,  while  expiring  in  their  sight. 
'J"he  first  suggested  by  these  words  in  our  text, 
"  now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of  Jesus,  his 
inother  and  his  iiiotlier's  sister,  Mary  the  wife 
of  Cleophas,  and  Mary  Magdalene."  The  next 
we  find  in  the  following  words,  "  When  Jesus 
therefore  saw  his  mother,  and  the  disciples 
standing  by,  whom  he  loved,  he  saith  unto  his 
mother.  Woman,  behold  thy  son.  Then  saith 
he  to  the  disciple,  Behold  thy  mother;  and  from 
that  hour  the  disciple  took  her  unto  his  own 
home." 

O  ye  lofty  speculations,  which  aspire  to  the 
most  impenetrable  secrets  of  science!  Ye  soar- 
ings of  the  imagination,  which  rise  high  as  tho 
heavens,  and  descend  into  the  deepest  reces.sea 
i  of  knowledge,  in  quest  of  sublime  anil  abstract 
idi;as!  I  do  not  to-day  call  on  you  for  assist- 
ance; it  is  to  the  emotions  of  nature,  the  senti- 
ments of  the  soul,  the  |)owerful  sympathies  of 
the  heart,  that  1  appeal  in  this  discourse,  they 
will  furnish  the  best  commentary  on  our  text: 
and  that  heart,  which  is  under  such  an  influ- 
ence, can  best  understand  the  conflict  to  which 
we  all  approach,  with  the  rapid  flight  of  time. 
And  happy  will  he  be,  who  having  received 
grace  rightly  to  apply  to  himself  this  subject, 
shall  come  off  triumphant. 

First.  Let  us  consider  the  import  of  the 
words  contained  in  our  text.  There  are  few 
circumstances,  in  the  whole  of  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures, or  perhaps,  we  miirhtsay,  in  any  history, 
sacred  or  profane,  which  are  related  in  a  man- 
ner so  simple  and  intelligible,  and  consequently 
HO  little  susceptible  of  contradiction,  as  that  now 
under  consideration.  The  sight  of  the  soldiers 
ready  to  seize  the  person  of  the  Redeemer, 
the  infuriated  Jews,  the  decision  of  Pontius 
Pilate,  the  view  of  the  cross;  all  these  objects 
struck  consternation  into  the  minds  of  the  apos- 
tles, anil  they  thought  at  first  more  of  their  own 
sjifety,  than  of  the  great  peril  in  which  their 
Divine  Master  stood;  and  either  from  motives 
of  prudence  or  cowardice,  they  abandoned 
Christ  in  the  moment  of  danger,  from  which 
they  had  neither  the  courage  nor  presence  of 
mind  to  attempt  to  rescue  him.  But  the  three 
Marys,  either  impelled  by  the  ardour  of  their 
atH:ction  to  surmount  tlu;  greatest  obstacles,  or 
sheltered  by  their  sex  from  the  fear  of  the  Jews, 
remained  with  him,  throughout  all  this  awful 
scene;  and,  as  far  as  they  were  permitted  by 
the  fury  of  the  soldiers,  they  recj'ived  from 
till!  mouth  of  onr  f^ord  his  dying  injunctions. 

lY-rhaps  tho  rest  of  the  disciples,  ashamed  of 
their  former  conduct,  and  following  the  sugges- 
tions of  love  to  their  suflering  Lord,  which  had 
given  way  to  timidity,  and  fear  for  their  own 
security,  now  might  come  back  to  seek  him 
whom  they  had  so  shamefully  deserted.  This 
we  gather  from  the  words  of  another  evange- 
list, who  says,  "  that  all  his  ac(iuaintance  stood 
afar  off  beholding  these  things,"  Luke  xxiii. 
49.  But  wherever  the  rest  were,  we  know  that 
St.  John,  who  was  always  distinguished  for  his 
love  to  the  Redeemer,  who  had  witnessed  hi.'* 
agony  in  the  garden,  who  had  followed  him 
into  the  court  of  Caiaphas,  w.as  near  him  with 
the  women.  Christ,  who  was  sutliciently  ele- 
vated on  the  cross,  to  bo  able  to  sec  all  those 
who  were  assembled  to  witness  his  deatli,  but 


Ser.  C] 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


419 


not  80  mucli  above  them  as  to  be  unable  to  dis- 
tingfuisli  their  pcrsonB,  and  to  bo  heard  by  them, 
was  struck  on  boholdinjr  liis  niotlinr,  and 
tlio  group  wliicli  surrounded  lier.  Ho  con- 
sidered, that  as  Joseph  was  dead,  Mary  had 
lost  lier  only  protector,  and  might  sutler  all  the 
miseries  of  want,  and  thinking  that  St.  John, 
from  whom  ho  was  even  now  receiving  marks 
of  friendship,  would  not  refuse  his  last  miuest, 
to  liirn  ho  committed  the  care  of  his  mother;  it 
was  indeed  a  precious  charge.  He  wishing  the 
apostle  to  fulfil  towards  her  the  various  duties 
of  husband  and  son,  therefore  said,  "This  is 
from  hcncefortii  to  I)C  thy  mother,"  and  to 
Mary,  "  Jiehold  thy  son."  St.  John  faithfully 
observed  this  commission,  and  inviolably  ad- 
hered to  it,  and  from  that  time  Mary  had  no 
home  but  his.  This,  my  brethren,  seems  to  be 
the  general  import  of  the  aflecting  narrative 
under  consideration;  on  which  the  following 
questions  are  sometimes  started. 

Why  is  Mary,  the  sister  of  the  Virgin,  and 
mother  of  James  and  Joseph,  called  the  wife 
of  Cleophas? 

Some  have  said  that  Cleophas  was  her  fa- 
ther, others  say,  with  a  greater  appearance  of 
probability,  that  he  was  her  husband;  why  then 
was  her  son  James  called  the  son  of  Alpheus.' 
it  has  been  supposed  that  she  was  twice  marri- 
ed, and  that  her  first  husband,  whose  name  was 
Al|)heus,  was  the  father  of  James;  and  the  se- 
cond, Cleophas,  the  one  mentioned  here.  But 
the  prevailing  opinion  is,  that  the  Syriac  or 
Hebrew  woixl  in  the  original,  may  be  rendered 
with  eqiKil  propriety,  Cleophas  or  Alpheus,  so 
that  it  is  not  difficult  to  perceive  that  the  Al- 
pheus mentioned  by  St.  Luke,  is  the  same 
whom  St.  John  has  named  Cleophas. 

Again,  Who  is  this  other  Mary,  surnamed 
Magdalene,  probably  from  her  birth-place, 
Magdala,  either  the  town  of  that  name,  near 
Caiieniaum,  on  the  borders  of  the  sea  of  Tibe- 
rias, or  another  place  of  the  same  name,  on  tlie 
other  side.  She  is  commonly  supposed  to  be 
the  same  out  of  whom  went  seven  devils. — 
Some  have  inquired  whether  she  is  the  same 
Mary  who  is  mentioned  in  the  llth  chapter  of 
St.  John,  whose  brother  Christ  raised  from  the 
dead,  on  whom,  and  on  her  family,  he  had 
wrought  so  many  miracles,  and  wIk)  was  near- 
ly related  to  him.  Ihit  these  are  questions 
which  do  not  concern  us,  and  which  we  have 
no  means  of  deciding. 

These,  and  many  otlior  inqmrioe,  may  be  not 
improperly  started,  and  pursued  to  a  certain 
length,  provided  they  are  proposed,  not  as 
points  of  importance  in  themselves,  but  as  all 
that  concerns  the  history  of  our  Saviour's  life 
and  death  should  be  deemed  interesting  to  ns. 
Ihit  after  all,  as  I  remarked  before,  there  is  no 
event  in  the  sacred  volume  narrated  in  a  man- 
ner 80  Kmplo,  so  intelligible,  and  on  that  ac- 
count so  little  open  to  contradiction,  as  that 
now  under  considération.  Hut,  my  brethren, 
it  is  scarcely  credible,  that  superstition  has 
been  more  than  usually  busy  in  fabricating 
misrepresentations  on  this  subject.  Supersti- 
tion has  multiplied  the  minute  details  of  this 
afflictive  event,  and  has  given  a  more  particu- 
lar account  than  our  evangelist.  Some  pre- 
tend to  have  ascertained  the  e.xact  distance  be- 
tween Christ  and  the  spectators  of  liis  crucifix- 


ion, to  have  measured  it,  and  found  it  fifteen 
cnbiL'ï.     They  say,  that  even  the  lapse  of  se- 
venteen centurif.'s  does  iKjt  prevent  their  clearly 
discerning  even  now,  the  spot  where  St.  John 
and  the  three  Marys  stood.     They  maintain, 
that  there  arc  still  remaining  vestiges,  which 
they  show  to  tliose  who  visit  the  Holy  Land, 
and   which    they   call    Iha   way  of  bitterness. 
For,  my  brethren,  what  do  not  tluij  see,  who 
view  things  through  the  medium  of  supersti- 
tion,  and  do   they   not   find   in   every  object, 
nourishment  f<>r  their  chimerical  and  false  de- 
votion, whicli  ami_>ly  repays  them  for  all  the 
fatigues  and  dilllculties  they  may  have  under- 
gone.   Is  there  any  event  so  trilling,  any  re- 
cital so  simple,  any  jilace  mentioned  in  sacred 
history,  so  obscure  as  not  to  be  traced  by  them? 
The  house  of  Joachim,  father  of  the  virgin,  the 
room  in  which  she  was  horn,  the  stone  on  which 
she  sat  when  the  angel  saluted  her,  the  place 
where  our  Saviour  was  born,  the  seat  on  which 
she  received  tiie  wise  men  from  the  east,  the 
grotto  where  she  suckled  our  Lord,  the  fig-tree 
that  he  cursed,  and  which  up  to  this  time,  pro- 
duced no  fruit,  the  place  where  he  stood  whea 
Mary  said,  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my 
brother  had  not  died;"  where  he  composed  tlw 
Prayer  still  distinguished  by  his  name.     The 
dungeon  where  he  was  shut  up  when  tl)oy  Jed 
him  before  Pilate;  the  arch  through  uhieh  Pi- 
late showed  him  to  the  people;  the  street  in 
which  he  was  scourged;  the  spot  in  which  Ju- 
das  betrayed   him   with   a  kiss;  the  room   in 
which  he  instituted   the  holy  sacrament;  the 
room  in  which  he  appeared  to  his  disciples,  tl»e 
doors  being  shut;  the  form  of  his  left  foot,  which 
was  made  on  the  rock  when  he  ascended  into 
heaven;  the  pedestal  of  the  column  on  which 
the  cock  crowed;  the  place  where  Judas  hung 
himself;  the  apartment  in  which  the  apostles 
were  when  they  received  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Gho.st;  the  place  in  which  they  composed  the 
Creed;  the  abode  of  the  wicked  rich  man;  the 
door  through  which  the  angel  led  St.  Peter  out 
of  prison;  the  fountain  where  Philip  was  bap- 
tized; and  many  other  places,  which  are  all  se- 
perately  shown,  and  regarded  with  veneration. 
But  even  this  is  not  all,  they  pretend,  that 
the  afflictions  of  the  Virgin  overpowered  her, 
and  she  fainted  away  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
Cardinal  Cagison  says,  that  they  formerly  kept 
a  festival  in  the  church,  called,  "  The  feast  of 
the  fainting,"  in  memory  of  this  event.     And 
if  any  one   inquires   into   the  history  of  this 
fainting,   the  reply   they   receive  is  from  the 
works  of  a  visionary,  who  publislied  eight  vo- 
lumes of  his  speculations,  arid  whom  tlie  popes 
canonized  by  the  title  of  St.  Brigite,  or  the  ae- 
raphic  cardinal  Bonaveutura,  whose  letter  is  so 
carefully  preserved  at  Lyons,  or  one  named 
Mallonius,  and  other  authors  of  this  sort,  wlto 
lived  in  the  fifteenth  century.     But  still  this  is 
trifling,  compared  with  the  signification  which 
superstition  has  attachcti  to  Uie  words,  "  Wo- 
man, behold  thy  son."  "Behold  thy  mother." 
They  include,  according  to  the  opinions  of  the 
doctors  of  the  Romish  Church,  the  greatest 
mysteries  of  religion,  they  afford  the  strongest 
])roof  of  the  powerful  protection  whid»  tl»e 
Virgin  affords  to  the  church,  and  the  religious 
worship  due  to  her  from  the  church.    St.  John, 
they  say,  represents,  in  this  place,  all  the  faiU»- 


420 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


[Ser.  C. 


ful.  Christ  put  in  liis  person  tlic  whole  human 
race  under  tlic  government  and  protection  of 
Mary.  "  Woman,  behold  thy  son,"  or  in  other 
words,  I  delejrate  to  tliee,  all  the  power  and 
authority,  tiiat  my  divinity  and  quality  of  Me- 
diator tfive  me  over  tlie  church;  from  iience- 
forth,  he  lliou  its  firmest  pillar,  its  strongest 
support  and  defence;  be  to  its  ciiildrcn  a  light 
to  ligliten  their  darkness,  be  their  counsellor  in 
all  ditliciilties,  in  persecution  itself,  their  guide 
in  all  tiieir  wanderings,  their  consolation  in 
trouble,  and  life  to  them  even  in  the  last  ago- 
nies of  expiring  nature.  In  the  words,  "  J3e- 
hold  thy  mother,"  he  says.  Mortals  attend, 
while  I  point  out  to  you  the  most  worthy  ob- 
ject of  your  worship  and  humble  adoration; 
hero  you  behold  the  fountain  of  all  my  favours, 
and  it  is  through  her  alone  that  you  can  hope 
to  attain  to  my  glory.  Ceaso  then  to  weep  for 
my  death,  regret  no  longer  my  absence  from 
you,  I  compensate  for  it  all,  by  leaving  Mary 
with  you.  In  accordance  with  this  opinion,  the 
Virgin  is  addressed  as  "  tiie  help  of  the  weak, 
the  tower  of  David,  the  arch  of  tlie  holy  alli- 
ance, the  door  of  heaven,  the  queen  of  tlie 
apostles,  confessors,  and  martyrs,  the  coadju- 
trix  wiliï  God  in  the  work  of  salvation;"  and 
these  titles  arc  given,  not  in  the  writings  of  in- 
dividuals, for  wiiich  they  were  personally  re- 
eponsible,  but  in  the  public  offices  and  services 
of  the  church. 

We  see  solemn  vows  paid  to  her  in  all  ages. 
Among  many  thousands  of  them  was  that  of 
Louis  XIII.,  who  consecrated  to  her  service, 
his  person  and  kingdom,  by  an  inviolable  oath. 
From  this  source  spring  all  the  blasphemies  of 
those  who  have  dared  to  maintain,  tiiat  the 
Virgin  created  all  the  universe;  that  her  influ- 
ence with  God,  is  alino.'it  equal  to  authority 
and  sovereign  power;  that  she  approaches  the 
throne  of  Christ,  not  in  quality  of  a  servant, 
but  as  his  equal;  as  a  goddess;  that  all  in  hea- 
ven, even  God  himself,  acknowledge  her  sway 
and  submit  to  her  power;  that  the  authority  of 
Christ  is  founded  on  justice;  that  of  the  Virgin 
on  love.    They  argue,  that  if  the  foolish  virgins 
had  called  on  her,  instead  of  God,  and  had 
substituted  tlie  invocation  of  her  name,  for  the 
words,    "Lord,   Lord,"    the  doors  of  heaven 
would  have  been  opened  to  them.    In  the  psal- 
ter of  St.  I'oii;ivi'nlura,  llie  name  of  Mary  has 
been  substituted  for  lliat  of  God,  in  all  the  psalms 
of  David,  and  to  her  are  ascribed  all  the  names, 
perfections,  worship,  and  works  of  the  Deity, 
and  all  the  passages  cited  by  tlio  apostles  from 
the  Old  Testament,  to  prove  the  Divinity  of 
Christ,  are  likewise  aiijilied  to  the  Virgin.    We 
find  also  the  following  prayer,  "  O  Virgin,  ex- 
ercise your  parental  authority  over  your  Son. 
Who  can  understand,  O  blessed  and  holy  mo- 
ther, the  extent  of  your  mercy.    Who  can  com- 
])rehend  the  heigiit,  the  breadth,  or  the  depth, 
of  it.     It  extends  itself  oven  to  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, it  is  wide  as  the  universe,  it  reaches  U() 
to  the  heavens,  and  descends  to  the  deepest 
abyss.     It  is  your  presence  that  forms  the  joy 
of  heaven,  your  absoneo  the  torments  of  hell; 
by  your  counsel  the  new  Jerusalem  is  edified 
and  sanctified.     Intelligent  beings  all  pray  to 
you;  some  to  be  delivered  from  the  torments 
of  hell,  others,  who  have  attained  eternal  hap- 
pineu,  for  an  increase  of  their  felicity.     To 


your  power,  angels  themselves  bow,  and  these 
behold  fresh  sources  of  pleasure;  the  just  im- 
plore a  share  in  your  righteousness,  the  guilty 
look  to  you  for  pardon." 

Some  persons  have  had  the  courage  to  pro- 
test against  these  erroneous  doctrines,  even 
among  the  Catholics,  and  to  desist  from  the 
worship  of  the  virgin.  "  O  my  God,"  cried 
feebly,  one  of  their  most  celebrated  preachers, 
"  is  it  necessary,  in  this  age,  so  strenuously  to 
defend  the  homage  that  the  Christian  world 
pays  to  the  Holy  Virgin.  Must  it  fall  to  my 
lot  to  fight  against  the  false  scruples  of  those 
who  fear  to  praise  thee,  and  dare  to  complain 
of  the  honour  given  to  thy  name.  But  not- 
withstanding the  enterprises  formed  by  the 
enemies  of  religion  to  destroy  thy  worship; 
through  all  these  ages  it  still  remains.  O 
blessed  Virgin,  never  shall  the  gates  of  hell 
prevail  against  the  zeal  of  real  Christians." 
Alas,  how  many  persons  feed  on  this  unsub- 
stantial food.  What  a  deplorable  example  of 
prejudice  and  bad  education.  How  do  those 
minds  deserve  pity,  which  are  enveloped  in 
the  veil  of  superstition,  and  blinded  to  prevent 
them  from  discerning  the  truth.  It  is  thus, 
my  bretiiren,  that  the  enemy  of  our  salvation 
suits  his  attacks  to  the  dispositions  of  every 
man.  Does  he  wish  to  deceive  those  lofty 
spirits,  who  would  lead  captive  to  their  will, 
even  the  oracles  of  God,  instead  of  submitting 
themselves  to  them,  those  rebellious  souls  who 
bring  down  the  most  sublime  mysteries  of  re- 
ligion to  the  level  of  their  own  capacity.'  To 
them  he  represents  the  doctrine  of  the  divinity 
of  our  glorious  Redeemer  as  confused  and  con- 
tradictory, persuading  them,  that  this  wonder- 
ful and  incomprehensible  mixture  of  grandeur 
and  misery,  of  glory  and  ignominy,  of  divinity 
and  humanity,  is  at  variance  with  all  common 
and  received  ideas;  he  thereby  persuades  them 
to  refuse  obedience  and  worship  to  him,  whom 
even  the  angels  obey,  in  whose  presence  every 
knee  shall  bow,  both  of  things  in  heaven  and 
of  things  on  tlie  earth;  or  is  his  concern  with 
those  weak  minds  who  are  led  astray  by  every 
appearance  of  wonder,  any  thing  new?  To 
them  he  represents,  that  many  creatures  par- 
take of  the  glory  of  God;  he  persuades  them 
to  worship  together  with  God,  beings  of  an  in- 
ferior order.  Thus  some  refuse  to  pay  any 
homage  to  God  at  all,  while  others  adore  him 
in  a  wrong  and  ineflectual  way;  thus  he  suc- 
ceeds too  well  in  his  wicked  plans  for  the  ruin 
of  mankind. 

Rut  praised  be  God,  we  need  not  fear  the 
inroads  of  superstition  in  our  time:  the  only 
feelings  that  it  is  likely  to  excite  in  our  minds, 
are  those  of  pity  and  indignation.  O  church 
of  Rome,  if  thou  wouldest  re-establish  thy  sway 
amongst  us;  arm  afresh  thy  inquisition,  equip 
thy  galleys,  light  up  again  thy  fires,  prepare 
new  tortures,  open  thy  dismal  dungeons,  erect 
more  gibbets,  and  devise  more  cruel  martyr- 
doms. With  such  arguments  as  these,  thou 
irvayest  perhaps,  prevail  on  some  feeble  profes- 
sors of  our  reformed  religion,  through  the  in- 
fluence of  fear,  to  become  thy  proselytes;  but 
all  thy  reasonings,  thy  specious  tales,  and  false 
arguments,  only  serve  to  sap  the  foundations 
of  an  old  building  even  now  in  ruins. 

Superstition    has   also  invented  numerous 


Ser.  C]  the  address  of  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


histories,  well  known  to  be  entirely  fabulous, 
which  have  been  added  to  that  given  by  St. 
John  of  the  Virgin.  The  cvaufrelist  relates, 
that  from  tliat  liour  the  disciple  tooli  her  unto 
his  own  home;  and  we  find,  botli  after  tiie 
death  of  our  blessed  Lord,  and  after  his  resur- 
rection, tliat  she  continued  with  the  apostles 
constant  in  prayer  and  praises;  after  this  we 
lose,  in  the  sacred  writings,  all  ilirther  trace 
of  the  life  of  this  holy  woman;  and  we  find 
nothing  which  could  serve  for  tiie  materials  of 
a  complete  history  of  her  life  and  death.  The 
books  written  in  tlie  first  century  are  also  silent 
on  this  subject,  and  do  not  present  any  thing 
to  fill  up  the  void  in  the  sacred  writings.  A 
letter  from  tiie  council  held  at  Epiiesus  in  the 
fifth  century,  afiords  some  very  slight  grounds 
for  supposing  tliat  siie  might  be  buried  in  that 
city;  and  one  wiio  lived  a  considerable  time 
before  that  period,  acknowledges  his  ignorance 
on  this  subject.  He  says,  tliat  he  cannot  be 
Bure  whetiier  she  is  really  dead,  or  whether 
she  received  the  gift  of  immortality,  and  re- 
mained alive  at  tliat  time;  wlielher  she  suf- 
fered martyrdom,  or  terminated  her  life  by  a 
natural  and  easy  death;  no  one  knows  any  thing 
of  her  latter  end.  So  general  a  silence,  unani- 
mously preserved  at  a  time  wiien  particulars 
relative  to  the  death  of  the  Virgin  migiit  have 
been  so  easily  procured,  should  teach  succeeding 
ages  to  beware  of  speaking  positively  on  tliis 
subject.  But  when  an  autiior  is  so  infatuated, 
as  to  be  intent  on  endeavouring  to  us.  the  par- 
ticulars of  events,  in  themselves  quite  uncertain 
and  unimportant,  what  dilîlculties  does  he  find 
too  great  to  overcome,  what  obstacles  of  suHi- 
cient  magnitude  to  arrest  his  progress.  Thus, 
we  see  in  succeeding  ages,  that  men  have  even 
thought  they  could  trace  the  features  of  the 
Virgin,  whicii  they  pretend  to  have  seen  de- 
lineated by  St.  Luke,  in  a  picture  drawn  for 
an  empress  who  supposed  she  had  found  her 
tomb;  they  have  also  detailed  the  slightest  cir- 
cumstances of  her  life  and  death.  To  give  a 
shadow  of  plausibility  to  tiiese  impositions,  they 
have  attributed  them  to  persons  of  celebrity, 
from  whose  names  they  might  derive  popu- 
larity. Of  this  nature  was  a  work  published 
in  the  second  century,  entitled,  "  The  Life 
and  Death  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,"  and  placed 
among  the  apocryphal  books.  And  as  all 
these  histories  had  no  other  foundation  than 
the  imaginations  of  their  authors,  we  perceive 
a  diversity  of  opinions,  similar  to  the  diversity 
of  the  persons,  from  the  fertility  of  whose  in- 
ventions they  sprung.  Some  maintain  that 
the  holy  Virgin  sufl'ered  martyrdom;  others 
that  she  followed  St.  John  to  Ephesus,  where 
she  died  at  a  very  advanced  age;  others  assert 
that  after  her  deatli  she  arose  from  the  grave: 
but  others  have  carried  tlieir  theories  still  far- 
ther, and  pretended  that  she  was  taken  up 
to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  as  was  Elias. 
But  we  will  turn  from  the  consideration  of 
this  subject,  and  employ  the  rest  of  our  time 
in  considering  the  tv/o  principal  branches  of 
our  subject. 

I.  The  conflict  passing  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  behold  the  last  moments  of  those  who  are 
dear  to  them. 

IL  The  conflict,  or  rather  the  triumph,  of 
those  who  thus  expire. 


421 

1.  The  case  of  Mary  exemplifies  the  conflict- 
ing emotions  that  agitate  the  souls  of  those 
who  surround  the  dying  pillow  of  their  dear- 
est relatives.  Nature,  reason,  and  religion, 
ail  must  lend  their  aid  to  Bup[)ort  their  trem- 
bling courage.  And  let  mo  inquire,  who  is 
there  among  you,  my  brethren,  who  sufficiently 
feels  the  force  of  the  demonstration  of  which 
his  proposition  is  susceptible.  If  any  of  you 
have  concentrated  your  principal  care,  your 
warmest  affections,  on  one  object,  on  one  fa- 
vourite child,  to  whom  you  have  looked  for 
consolation  in  trouble,  whom  you  have  regard- 
ed as  the  honour  of  your  house,  to  wliose  filial 
tenderness  you  have  trusted  for  the  support  of 
your  declining  years;  to  the  feelings  of  such  a 
one  1  appeal,  to  picture  to  his  mind  a  scene 
which  baffles  all  attempts  at  description.  Let 
him  put  himself  in  the  place  of  Mary,  and 
view  in  the  death  of  our  Saviour,  that  of  his 
beloved  child:  he  will  still  form  but  an  imper- 
fect idea  of  the  mental  agonies  wiiich  Mary 
was  suffering.  She  beheld  her  Son,  whose 
birth  was  miraculously  announced  to  her  by 
an  angel;  that  Son,  on  whose  appearance  the 
armies  of  heaven  sung  with  triumphant  joy; 
that  Son,  whose  abode  on  earth  was  a  distin- 
guished course  of  mercy,  charity,  and  compas- 
sion; she  saw  him,  whose  abode  on  earth  crown- 
ed it  with  blessings,  ready  to  quit  it  for  ever. 
She  anticipated  the  frightful  and  dreary  soli- 
tude in  which  she  was  so  soon  to  be  plunged; 
slic  viewed  herself  forsaken  and  deserted  by  all, 
deprived  of  the  dearest  object  of  her  affection; 
the  rest  of  the  world  appeared  to  her  a  blank, 
as  if  she  remained  alone,  the  only  inhabitant 
of  this  spacious  globe.  And  in  what  manner 
is  she  about  to  lose  her  beloved  Son?  He  dies 
a  death,  he  suffers  a  martyrdom  of  unexam- 
pled agony.  She  sees  those  hands,  which  had 
so  often  dispensed  blessings,  cured  diseases,  fed 
the  hungry,  clothed  the  naked,  and  wrought 
so  many  miracles,  pierced  with  nails.  She  be- 
held those  lips,  on  which  dwelt  grace  and  beau- 
ty, and  from  whicii  had  flowed  the  accents  of 
mercy,  scandalized  by  the  impurities  of  the 
furious  Jews.  Tiiat  royal  head,  which  the 
crown  of  the  universe  would  become,  torn  and 
lacernted  with  thorns;  that  arm  destined  to 
wield  the  sceptre  of  the  world,  bearing  a  reed 
in  mockery.  She  saw  the  temple  of  her  God; 
that  temple  which  had  been  distinguished  as 
the  peculiar  abode  of  the  divinity,  which  had 
been  blessed  with  peculiar  manifestations  of 
his  wisdom,  liisglory,his  justice,  and  his  mercy, 
and  all  those  perfections  which  belong  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  falling  beneath  the  attacks  of 
the  impious  multitude.  She  heard  the  voice 
of  the  children  of  Edom,  crying,  "  Down  with 
it,  down  with  it!"  and  levelling  the  dwelling 
of  the  Most  High  with  the  ground.  Then  she 
beheld  the  full  accomplishment  of  that  saying, 
of  which  she  could  not  formerly  perceive  the 
meaning:  "  A  sword  shall  pierce  through  thine 
own  soul  also,"  Luke  ii.  35.  Again,  she  was 
denied  the  sad  consolation  of  approaching  this 
her  beloved  Son,  to  comfort  him,  and  to  re- 
ceive his  last  breath.  O  ye,  his  murderers, 
allow  her  at  least  to  embrace  him  once  more; 
let  her  shed  her  tears  by  his  side,  and  bid  him 
a  final  farewell;  let  her  stop  tlie  blood  which 
has  began  to  flow  in  large  drops,  and  consumes 


422 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


[Ser.  C. 


the  remainder  of  Jiis  nearly  exhausted  strenglli. 

0  let  her  ajiproacli  tliis  expiring  Prince,  and 
pour  a  healing  balm  into  its  wounds.  liut  no; 
she  is  forced  to  yield  to  the  violence  of  those 
who  surround  her;  the  thick  darkness  obliges 
her  to  depart,  all  tiic  care  and  tenderness  that 
she  could  show  to  our  Lcprd,  all  her  tears  are 
useless.  Holy  woman,  if  "  all  generations 
shall  call  tl)ee  blessed,"  Luke  i.  48,  "  because 
thou  wast  the  mother  of  thy  glorious  King  and 
Redeemer,"  shall  not  endless  ages  commise- 
rate thy  grief,  when  destined  to  beliold  him 
sutfering  so  shameful  and  agonizing  a  deatii. 

But  1  mentioned  also  that  reason  and  faith 
led  the  holy  Virgin  into  a  conflict  of  a  different 
nature.  How  could  a  human  understanding, 
even  with  the  aid  of  reason  and  religion,  pierce 
the  thick  veil  that  covered  the  divinity  of  our 
Saviour,  at  the  time  of  his  crucifixion.  If  the 
mystery  of  tlie  cross  surpasses  and  startles  our 
finite  imaginations  now,  when  it  is  announced 
to  us  by  a  preacher,  wlio  gives  us  the  infallible 
word  of  God  as  security  whereon  to  rest  our 
belief,  what  must  have  been  its  effect  on  the 
minds  of  those  who  beheld  Christ  suffering  by 
the  hand  of  murderers,  chosen  of  God  for  this 
purpose.  Every  circumstance  of  his  passion, 
had  indeed  been  exactly  foretold  by  the  pro- 
phets of  old"  and  the  close  accordance,  the 
great  harmony,  that  was  visible  between  the 
prophecies,  and  their  accomplishment,  ought 
to  have  carried  conviction  to  the  minds  of  all 
who  attentively  consider  the  subject.  The 
presumption  certainly  was  strong,  liiat  he  who 
so  well  fultlJlcd  the  huniiliatory  and  painful 
part  of  the  pro|)hecies  concerning  him,  would 
likewise  verify  those  parts  that  referred  to  his 
exaltation  and  glorious  triumph.  But  the 
spectators  of  the  death  of  Jesus,  saw  only  his 
degradation;  his  glory  was  yet  to  come;  death 
had  now  seized  his  victim,  and  his  resurrection 
was  to  them  uncertain;  the  predictioris  of  his 
humiliation  were  fulfilled,  but  they  had  not 
seen  the  accomplishment  of  those  concerning 
Jiis  exaltation.  This  Jesus  whom  we  now  be- 
hold ready  to  expire,  the  thread  of  whose  life 
is  almost  spun  out,  and  who  will  only  come 
down  from  the  cross  to  be  laid  in  the  ton)b,  and 
to  go  into  the  lower  regions  of  the  earth,  can 
this,  I  ask,  be  tlie  promised  Messiah,  who  will 
"  ascend  on  high,  and  lead  captivity  captive, 
and  receive  gifts  for  men?"  Ps.  Ixviii.  18.  Can 
this  same  Jesus,  that  wc  see  wearing  a  crown 
of  thorns  upon  his  head,  witii  a  reed  in  his 
hand,  addressed  by  the  insulting  titles,  "  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  king  of  the  Jews,"  John  xix.  19, 
be  the  Messiah  of  whom  God  says,  "  1  have 
set  my  King  upon  my  holy  hill  of  Zion.  Ask 
of  me,  and  1  will  give  thee  the  heatlien  for  thy 
inheritance,  and  tiie  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  for  thy  possession.'"  Ps.  ii.  6.  8.  Is  he 
whom  I  sec  insulted,  despised,  and  lightly  es- 
teemed, is  he  the  Messiah,  called  by  the  pro- 
phets, "  ^Vonderflll,  CV)un6ellor,  Prince  of 
peace,  the  everlasting  Father!"  Isa.  ix.  6. 
This  Jesus,  who  now  is  nailed  to  an  ignomini- 
ous cross,  is  lu!  the  Messiah,  the  Lord  to  whom 
God  said,  "  Sit  thou  at  my  riglit  hand,  until 

1  make  thy  enemies  thy  footstool.  The  Lord 
shall  send  the  rod  of  thy  strength  out  of  Zion; 
rule  thou  in  the  midst  of  thy  enemies.  Thy 
people  sliall  be  willing  iu  the  day  of  thy  power, 


in  the  beauties  of  holiness;  from  the  womb  of 
the  morning  thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youtlL>" 
Ps.  cii.  1 — 3. 

I  know  not,  my  brethren,  what  were  the 
feelings  of  these  holy  women,  and  this  beloved 
disciple,  at  this  trying  period;  what  rays  of 
comfort  were  afforded  to  them,  to  lighten  their 
mental  darkness;  nor  what  a.ssistance  was 
gmntcd  tliem  in  this  conflict.  But  I  know, 
that  the  cross  of  Christ  is  a  stumbling-block 
to  the  Jew,  and  to  the  Greek,  foolishness.  I 
know  that  tho  Jewish  nation  had,  in  all  ages, 
fixed  their  attention  on  the  glory  of  the  Mes- 
siah, and  forgot  his  previous  humiliation;  and 
I  know  that  even  the  disciples  of  Christ,  trem- 
bled at  the  name  of  the  cross.  St.  Peter  hear- 
ing his  divine  Master  speak  of  his  approaching 
death,  said  "  Be  it  far  from  thee.  Lord,  this 
shall  not  be  unto  thee,"  Matt.  xvi.  22;  and 
when  Christ  spoke  to  them  of  a  future  resur- 
rection, they  questioned  one  with  another, 
what  the  rising  from  the  dead  should  mean, 
Mark  ix.  10.  Christ  rebuked  them,  saying, 
"  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that 
the  prophets  have  spoken,"  Luke  xxiv.  25. 
The  women  came  to  the  disciples  to  tell  them, 
that  they  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  his  resur- 
rection; but  their  information  seemed  more 
like  the  day-dreams  of  a  confused  imagination, 
than  the  result  of  cool  deliberation,  or  unpre- 
judiced judgment.  Thomas,  especially,  not- 
withstanding the  testimony  of  these  same  wo- 
men, and  tiiat  of  the  rest  of  the  apostles,  re- 
plied to  those  who  said  they  had  seen  the 
Lord,  "  Except  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  tho 
print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into  the 
j)rint  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his 
side,  I  will  not  believe,"  Jolin  xx.  25.  Thus, 
althounrh  we  are  disposed  to  think  very  highly 
of  the  virtue  and  constancy  of  these  holy  wit- 
nesses of  the  crucifixion  of  our  Lord,  we  dare 
not  propose  them  as  models  for  your  imitation; 
although  we  have  a  strong  conviction,  that 
they  did  not  fall  under  the  attacks  of  the  ene- 
mies of  salvation,  yet  wo  dare  not  affirm,  that 
they  entirely  triumphed  over  them;  and  in 
discoursing  upon  tiieir  conflicts,  we  dare  not 
enter  fully  on  the  subject  of  their  victory. 
But  not  so,  when  we  look  to  our  blessed  and 
adorable  Redeemer;  if  we  place  Christ  before 
y(jur  eyes,  we  give  you  a  perfect  model:  you 
shall  sec  him  struggling,  and  you  shall  also 
see  him  more  than  conqueror;  we  shall  speak 
loss  of  his  struggle,  than  of  his  conquest: 
"  And  Jesus  seeing  his  mother,  and  tlie  disci- 
])lc  standing  by  whom  he  loved,  he  saith  unto 
his  mother.  Woman,  behold  thy  son.  Then 
saith  ho  to  the  disciple.  Behold  thy  mother; 
and  from  that  hour  that  disciple  took  her  to 
his  own  home." 

We  are  to  remark  in  this  place.  First,  the 
presence  of  mind,  that  showed  itself  through 
ail  the  surterings  of  Christ;  no  man  was  ever 
j>laced  in  circumstances  so  likely  to  destroy 
this  feeling,  as  was  our  blessed  Lord  at  this 
time.  My  brethren,  when  wo  have  lived  as 
men  generally  do,  without  thought  or  reflec- 
tion, except  of  the  things  and  affairs  of  this 
transitory  world;  and  paid  no  attention  to  that 
future  day  of  judgment,  which  is  so  fast  ap- 
proaching, and  when  our  eternal  destiny  will 
bo  dotcnuinod;  when  wo  behold  the  coming 


Sër.  C] 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


423 


of  death,  and  have  made  no  preparation  for  it, 
never  fixed  our  thouglils  on  religious  subjects, 
nor  acted  agreeably  to  the  dictates  of  con- 
Bcience;  have  not  restored  our  ill-gotten  wealth; 
if  we  have  slandered  our  ncigiibour;  have 
made  no  reparation;  have  never  learned  what 
is  the  end  of  our  existence,  nor  what  is  death; 
can  we  viev/  the  approacii  of  the  king  of  ter- 
rors, under  tiicse  circumstances,  without  emo- 
tion? will  not  our  minds  be  filled  with  confused 
ideas,  and  overpowered  with  the  multi])licity 
of  concerns;  and  having  so  many  objects 
pressing  on  them,  be  prevented  from  attending 
to  any. 

But  if  wo  have,  on  the  contrary,  been, 
during  the  whole  course  of  our  life,  consider- 
ing our  latter  end,  and  following  the  example 
of  our  blessed  Saviour;  iiave  always  been  dili- 
gent to  do  the  work  of  the  Lord,  and  have 
never  lost  sight  of  that  awful  period,  to  which 
wo  approach  rapidly  but  insensibly;  if  such 
has  been  our  conduct  through  life,  we  may 
meet  death  with  calmness.  When  the  Chris- 
tian on  his  death-bed,  beholds  around  him  a 
weeping  family,  near  relations  and  intimate 
friends  full  of  grief,  he  still  is  calm,  he  retains 
his  self-possession  through  a  scene  so  afl^ecting. 
Death  to  him  is  not  a  strange  object,  he  views 
it  without  alarm,  and  employs  the  moments 
that  yet  remain,  in  administering  consolation 
to  his  friends,  instructing  or  comforting  his 
family,  or  in  the  exercise  of  religion.  And 
this  tranquillity  of  soul  is  perhaps  one  of  the 
best  characteristics  of  a  happy  death,  and 
yields  greater  satisfaction  than  more  trium- 
phant expressions,  for  which  there  is  less  solid 
foundation.  I  have  seen  men  in  whose  minds 
the  approacii  of  death  excites  emotions  that 
partake  more  of  the  turbulence  of  frenzy,  than 
of  zeal;  they  heap  Scripture  upon  Scripture, 
and  prayer  upon  prayer,  and  from  not  having 
thought  soon  enougli  of  their  last  moments, 
they  can  now  think  only  of  them,  and  can  nei- 
ther see,  nor  hear,  nor  tliink,  of  any  thing  else. 
How  different  were  the  last  moments  of 
Christ;  in  the  midst  of  all  his  agony,  he  still 
distinguished  from  the  crowd  of  spectators  his 
mother;  he  saw  her,  and  pitied  her,  and  re- 
commended her  to  the  care  of  his  beloved  dis- 
ciple. Woman,  behold  thy  Son,  Son,  behold 
thy  mother. 

We  see,  secondly,  the  tenderness  and  com- 
passion of  our  Lord.  There  is  a  certain  dis- 
position in  some,  that  partakes  more  of  fero- 
city, than  piety;  that  possesses  none  of  the 
amiable  properties  of  true  religion.  On  pre- 
tence of  being  Christians,  they  cease  to  be 
men:  as  they  must  one  day  quit  tlie  world, 
they  will  form  no  connexions  in  it.  Being 
occupied  with  the  concerns  of  the  soul,  they 
forget  the  care  of  this  life,  and  the  concerns 
of  It. 

The  piety  of  Christ  was  not  incompatible 
with  the  innocent  cares  and  concerns  of  life, 
he  contributed  largely  to  the  pleasure  of  those 
with  whom  he  associated,  he  behaved  towards 
them  with  kindness,  mildness,  and  condescen- 
sion. He  changed  water  into  wine,  at  the 
marriage  in  Cana;  he  multiplied  the  loaves  , 
and  fishes  in  the  desert,  to  aflbrd  subsistence  to 
those  who  followed  him;  he  partook  of  the 


feasts  to  which  he  was  invited,  and  sanctified 
them  with  his  heavenly  conversation. 

This  compassionate  kindness  shone  most 
conspicuous  in  the  period  referred  to  by  tho 
evangelist  in  the  words  of  onr  text,  the  weighty 
cares  of  his  soul,  which  he  was  on  the  ])oint 
of  yielding  into  the  arms  of  his  Father,  did 
not  make  him  neglect  his  temporal  concerns, 
he  thought  of  his  mother's  grief,  he  procured 
her  a  comforter  of  her  poverty,  and  gave  her 
a  maintenance. 

But,  my  brethren,  the  example  of  Christ  is 
worthy  not  only  of  praise,  but  of  imitition. 
The  same  religion,  which  directs  our  thoughts 
to  a  future  state,  and  to  the  hour  of  death, 
teaches  us  rightly  to  perform  our  duties  in  tho 
present  life.  A  Cliristian  before  he  dies,  will 
regulate  his  affairs,  make  his  will,  exhort  his 
family,  direct  the  education  of  his  children, 
recommend  to  them  proper  tutors  and  guar- 
dians, and  declare  what  are  his  dying  requests. 
But  unhappy  are  they,  who  on  their  death-bed 
are  wholly  taken  up  with  such  cares;  religion, 
while  she  directs  us  to  give  them  a  portion  of 
our  attention,  forbids  their  having  it  all.  Look 
to  the  example  of  Christ,  who  seeing  his  mo- 
ther and  the  disciple  whom  he  loved,  said  to 
his  mother.  Behold  thy  Son,  and  to  the  disci- 
ple, Behold  thy  mother. 

But  how  was  Mary  provided  for,  now  she 
was  under  tlic  protection   of  St.  John;  what 
was  the  prospect  that  she  had  before  her:  he 
was  poor;  it  is  true,  that  he  was  disposed  faith- 
fully to  fulfil  the  trust  reposed  in  him  by  his 
adorable  master;  and  that  poverty  and  misfor- 
tune, so    fatal  to    common    friendships,    only 
served  to  animate  his.     But  what  assistance  or 
protection  could  she  hope  for  from  an  apostle 
devoted  to  liis  ministry,  and  treading  in  the 
footsteps  of  his  crucified  master.     It  was,  my 
brethren,  but  a  poor  hope,  a  feeble  consolation, 
for  his  mother  to  cling  to;  but  here  again  we 
see  the  triumph   of  Christ,  which  ho  gained 
over  those  fears,  whicii  so  often  disturb  the  bed 
of  death.     We  see  in  the  last  moments  of  our 
Lord,  none  of  those  suspicions,  none  of  those 
bitter  cares,  that  so  often  empoison  the  peace 
of  the  dying;    tiiat  criminal   distrust  of  God, 
whicii  offends  him  at  a  time,  when  by  prayer 
and  praise  we  ought  to  conciliate  his  favour. 
Christ  displayed  on  this,  as  on  otlier  points,  a 
perfect  confidence  in  the  great  Disposer  of  all 
events.     But  Christ  triumphed  again  in  ano- 
ther way,  in  which  we  should  endeavour  to 
imitate  him.     Do  you  say  what  will  become 
of  my  children,  or  my  family?     Do  you  think 
tiiat  you  were  the  only  person  to  whose  care 
God  could  confide  them,  or  that  if  he  calls  you 
away,  he  will  have  no  resource  left  for  their 
subsistence?     Do  you  think  that  tlie  manifold 
wisdom  of  God,  can  raise  them  up  no  other  pro- 
tector?    Do  you  think  that  if  the  paternal  cha- 
racter excites  in  you  such  tender  emotions, 
that  he  who  is  the  Father  of  all,  does  not  feel 
them  also?     Do  you  imagine  that  he  who  par- 
dons all  your  sins,  cleanses  you   from  your 
guilt,  snatches   you  from  destruction,  invites 
you  to  glory,  will  disdain  to  supply  food  and 
clothing,  to  those  who  survive  you?     No,  he 
will  not:  had  they  for  their  sole  resource,  a 
man  in  such  a  sphere  of  life  as  was  St  John, 


424 


THE  ADDRESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  JOHN  AND  MARY. 


[Ser.  C. 


they  would  never  be  reduced  to  want.  "  When 
my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me,"  said 
the  psalmist,  "  the  Lord  taketli  me  up,"  Fs. 
xxvii.  10.  Let  us  also  say,  if  I  leave  my  father 
and  mother  in  their  old  age,  or  my  children 
in  their  infancy,  tlie  Lord  will  protect  them. 
They  will  find  a  shelter  under  the  wings  of  the 
Lord,  and  he  will  be  llieir  defence. 

Again,  let  us  admire  the  firmness  and  self- 
possession  of  our  Lord:  while  beholding  those 
objects  that  were  most  likely  to  shake  it, 
Christ  was  possessed  of  a  tender  heart.  We 
have  already  noticed  tiiis,  and  will  now  consi- 
der the  principal  circumstances  in  his  life,  that 
will  justify  this  assertion.  To  this  end,  view 
him  going  from  town  to  town,  from  province 
to  province,  doing  good;  see  him  discoursing 
familiarily  with  his  disciples  when  he  siiowed 
them  a  heart  full  of  loving-kindness.  Behold 
him  shedding  tears  over  Jerusalem,  and  pro- 
nouncing these  affecting  words,  an  everlasting 
memorial  of  his  compassion,  "  If  thou  hadst 
known,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
which  belong  to  thy  peace,  but  now  tliey  are 
hid  from  thine  eyes,"  Luke  .xix.  42.  Behold 
him  again,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  occu- 
pied with  care  for  his  beloved  disciples,  who 
were  to  remain  on  the  earth,  and  addressing  to 
his  Heavenly  Father  that  atfecting  prayer  for 
them  recorded  in  John  xvii.  witli  the  feelings 
of  a  soul  full  of  ihe  tenderest  emotions.  Jesus 
was  exemplary  in  the  several  relations  of  a 
friend,  of  a  master,  and  of  a  son.  Wliile  he 
beheld  around  his  cross  only  those  whoso  ma- 
lice delighted  to  witness  his  agony  and  aggra- 
vate his  sufferings,  he  turned  his  thoughts  from 
earth,  to  that  eternal  world  into  wliich  he  was 
about  to  enter.  But  what  was  the  effect  pro- 
duced on  his  mind,  by  the  siglit  of  Mary,  of 
whom  it  is  expressly  said  in  Scripture,  tliat  he 
loved  her.  What  did  lie  feel  when  he  beheld 
the  disciple  whom  he  had  distinguished  by  his 
peculiar  friendship;  and  that  otiier  Mary  in 
whose  favour  he  had  wrought  sucii  great  mira- 
cles, "  Ah,  remove  these  beloved  objects  far 
from  me,  take  away  every  tic  that  binds  my 
departing  soul  to  earth,  your  presence  inflicts 
a  sharper  pain  than  the  nails  which  pierce  my 
hands;  the  siglit  of  you  is  more  insupportable 
than  that  of  my  murderers."  Is  this  the  lan- 
guage of  our  Lord?  No:  far  otherwise;  Christ 
remains  firm,  his  courage  is  unabated.  He 
was  armed  with  almigiity  power,  and  he  en- 
tered this  dreadful  conflict  with  the  full  assu- 


rance of  victory,  and  final  triumph.  After  the 
first  emotions  of  nature  have  subsided,  when 
he  had  glanced  at  the  objects  around  him,  he 
rose  superior  to  the  things  of  this  world,  he 
knew  that  death  puts  a  period  to  all  sublunary 
connexions;  that  the  titles  of  parent,  friend, 
and  son,  are  only  vain  names,  when  we  come 
to  the  last  hour.  He  no  longer  recognised  his 
relations  according  to  tlie  flesh,  he  was  going 
to  form  a  new  relationship  in  heaven,  to  merge 
all  earthly  ties  in  the  countless  families  of  glo- 
rified saints,  of  whom  he  is  the  head.  He  ap- 
peared to  know  no  longer  that  Mary  who  had 
borne  him,  giving  her  no  more  the  title  of  mo- 
ther, but  said.  Woman,  behold  tiiy  son. 

O,  why  cannot  I  communicate  a  portion  of 
this  intrepid  firmness  of  soul  to  those  who  com- 
pose this  congregation;  O  that  we  may  every 
one  on  the  bed  of  death  feel  some  of  its  influ- 
ence, and  be  enabled  to  exclaim.  Come  ye  spec- 
tators of  my  agonies,  draw  near  ye  to  whom 
nature  has  bound  me  by  the  closest  ties,  by  the 
cords  of  love  and  friendship.  Approach  my 
friends,  my  children,  that  I  may  bid  you  a  final 
farewell:  come  receive  the  last  pledges  of  my 
affection,  let  me,  for  the  last  time,  fold  you  in 
my  paternal  embrace,  and  cover  you  with  my 
tears  of  afiection;  but  do  not  suppose,  that  I 
would  now  draw  tighter  the  cords  which  are  so 
soon  to  be  broken;  think  not  that  I  would  unite 
myself  to  you  still  closer  at  the.time  when  God 
warns  me  that  I  must  leave  you  for  ever.  I 
know  you  no  longer;  I  know  not  father,  mo- 
ther, or  children,  but  those  who  exist  in  the 
realms  of  glory,  with  whom  I  am  about  to  form 
eternal  relationship,  which  will  absorb  all  my 
temporal  connexions. 

Thus  the  opposite  extremities  of  virtue 
seemed  to  meet  in  the  death  of  our  Saviour  as 
in  a  common  centre,  the  perfections  of  the  God- 
head, holiness,  compassion,  constancy,  pierced 
tiirough  the  thick  veil  which  shrouded  his 
grandeur,  his  glory,  his  power,  and  his  ma- 
jesty. O,  ye  witnesses  of  his  death,  if  his  hu- 
miliation caused  you  to  doubt  his  Godhead, 
his  greatness  of  soul  must  have  fiilly  proved  it. 
Bcliokl  the  tombs  open,  the  dead  arise,  all  na- 
ture convulsed,  bears  witness  to  the  dying  Sa- 
viour; the  graces  that  shone  forth  in  his  death 
are  proofs  of  his  noble  origin,  and  his  divine 
nature;  such  was  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ; 
may  such  be  our  end.  "  Let  me  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like 
his."     Amen.  Numb,  xxiii.  10. 


THE  END. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


ABEL,  in  what  sense  he  yet  spcakcth,   ii  280 

Abraham,  his  intercession  for  Sodom  should 

encourai^e  us  to  pray  for  wicked 

nations  i  379 

his  great  faith  in  the  oblation  of 

Isaac  ii  188 

Achan,  where  are  the  Aclians?  i  397 

Actions,  innocent,  are  often  made  criminal  ii  4 

Admonition  among  Christian  brethren     ii  1S7 

Adultery,  the  woman  caught  in  the  act  of 

i266 
the  case  of  Drusilla  ii  8 

the  ciiaracler  of  an  adultrcss     ii  44 
Adversities  of  life  ii  212 

they  are  the  best  means  of  making 
some  men  wise  ii  347 

Adversity  is  occasioned  by  crime  in  two  re- 
spects ii  350 
iEmilius  Paulus,  a  saying  of  his,  ii  95 
Aged  men,  the  difficulties  of  their  conversion 

ii  242.  244 

they  are  exliorted  to  fear  and  to 

hope  250 

Ahaz,  his  preservation  and  wickedness     i  150 

Alcoran,  origin  of  that  book  ii  355 

a  specimen  of  its  absurdities         356 

Alexander  despised  by  the  Scythians         i  124 

Allegories,  improper,  censured  i  42 — ii  83 

Alms,  Christ's  love  the  great  motive  to  them 

i  415 
Alms  of  benevolence  considered  with  regard  to 
society,  to  religion,  to  death,  to  judg- 
ment, to  heaven,  to  God  417 
nine  arguments  in  favour  of  alms  419 

ii  7 
Amorites,  the  nation  and  generation  of  them 
considered  as  one  person       i  106 
the  whole  inhabitants  of  Canaan 
were  so  called  ib. 

their  inicjuities  107 

Amusements,  men  who  have  the  love  of  God 
shed  abroad   in  their  hearts 
have  little  taste  for  them  i  92 
Anathema  Maranatha  i  193 

Angels,  a  defence  to  the  church  i  222 

apostroplie  to  angels  on  the  Godhead 
of  Christ  273 

their  number  and  employment       281 
their  happiness  consists  in  glorifying 
God  ib. 

they  bend  over  the  ark  to  look  into  the 
mystery  of  redemption  ii  163 

of  the  angel  who  swaro  standing  on 
the  earth  and  on  the  sea  24 1 

David  prostrated  before  the  destroying 
angel  354 

Anger  attributed  to  God,  but  it  varies  in  six 
points   from   the   anger  and  ven- 
geance of  man  1100 
Animals,  compassion  for  i  367 
Anise,  mint,  cummin,  improvements  on  the 
terms  i  369 
Antinomian,  an,  censured  i  300 
1 


Antinomian,  his  notion  of  the  divine  mercy 

ii25d 
he  is  faithfully  warned  and  refut- 
ed 402 
Anointing  of  the  Holy  Spirit                    ii  399 
Ants,  an  emblem  of  the  busy  multitudes  of 
men                                                ii  34 
Apathy,  or  a  spirit  of  slumber,  dangerous  to  a 
nation                                          ii  348 
Apostasy,  among  the  French  Protestants  to 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion  i  167 
seven  ways  of  apostasy              1239 
the  dreadful  sin  of  an  enlightened 
apostasy                          ii  328,  329 
the  apostasy  through  weakness  and 
enmity  distinguished  ib. 
four  degrees  of  apostasy      331,  332 
an  address  to  sinners  who  have  not 
attained  the  highest  degree  of  this 
sin  i&. 
Apostolical  constitutions  confessedly  spurious, 
absurd,  and  the  forgery  of  the 
Arians                             1  279 
Apostrophe  to  the  ecclesiastics  who  surround- 
ed the  person  of  Louis  XIV., 
ii  294 
on  pretended  miracles            1197 
to  heathen  philosophers         1217 
Application  to  different  classes  of  sinners  1  96 
Arians  refuted  in  their  false  gloss  on  John 
xvii.  3                                          ii  157 
the  Arians  also  refuted  in  their  whim- 
sical gloss  on  John  xvi.  13       ii  309 
Aristocracy,  its  corruption  described         i  391 
Arminius,  (Van  Harmine,)  three  replies  to  his 
system                                   ii  103 
in  the   Bible  practical  duties  arc 
placed  clear,  and  abstruse  points 
involved  in  depths,  that   Chris- 
tians  may  have   patience  with 
one  another                              106 
God  is  no  wise  accessary  to  the  de- 
struction of  sinners                  116 
Amobius,  his  avowal  of  the  Godhead  of  Christ 

1279 

Assurance,  St.  Paul  persuaded  of  it         1313 

eight  cautions  concerning  it        ib. 

assurance  of  justification  may  bo 

attended    with    a    mixture    of 

doubts  as  to  final  salvation      ib. 

it  is  incompatible  with  a  state  of 

sin  314 

assurance  is  demonstrated  by  the 

experience  of  holy  men  ib. 

by  the  nature  of  regeneration    316 

by  the  prerogatives  of  a  Christian 

316 

by  the  inward  testimony  of  the 

spirit  of  God  317 

four  cautions  concerning  it         ib. 

means  of  attaining  assurance    350 

degrees  of  grace  and  assurance  ii 

182 


11 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


AflBorance  consists  in  foretastes  of  heaven  ii 

182 
those  foretastes  are  often  connect- 
ed with  trials  188 
they  are  often  felt  on  sacramental 
occasions  and  on  the  approaclics 
of  death  189 
eight  causes  why  the  generality  of 
the  Ciiristian  world  do  not  at- 
tain assurance                 3H8,  &c. 
seven  sources  of  evil          389,  &c. 
Athanasius,  the  superiority  of  his  arguments 
over  the  Arians                   i  279 
Atheism,  men  embrace  it  to  sin  quietly     i  210 
its  absurdity  joined  witii  superstition 
ii359 
its  difSculties  ib. 
Atonement,  the  mystery  of  it  arising  from  tlio 
innocence  of  Ciirist          i  191 
it  is  illustrated  under  the  notice 
of  a  vicarious  sacrifice      i  249 
its  efficacy  arises  from  the  excel- 
lence of  the  victim  in  five  ar- 
guments                            i  287 
its  extent  liberally  explained  292 
the   support    of    Christ's    death 
against  all  our  fears  of  futurity 
295 
Christ's  death  is  an  expiation  or 
atonement  for  sin             ii  167 
four  arguments  in  favour  of  the 
satisfaction  made  by  Christ  229 
five  classes  of  arguments  from  the 
Holy  Scriptures  demonstrative 
of  tiie  atoiieiiient,  and  compris- 
ing a  refutation  of  those  who 
say  that  Christ's  death  was  only 
a  demonstration  of  the  truth  of 
his  doctrine                            230 
Augsburgh,  Confession  or  Lutheran  and  tiiat 
of  Arniini us,  strictures  on  ii  103 
Augustine  proves  that  the  texts  which  speak 
of  Christ  as  subordinate   to  tiie 
Father  ought  to  be  understood  of 
his  humanity  and  oflices,  because 
the  expressions  are  never  used  of 
the  Holy  Ghost                    i  277 
he  is  accused  of  inconsistency,  viz. 
of  favouring  the  cause  of  the  Ma- 
niciiœans  wlien  ho  wrote  against 
the  Pelagians                         ii  395 
Avarice  is  always  classed  among  the  worst  of 
sins                                               i  354 
it  is  sometimes  bluntly  rebuked     ii  38 
the  sin  of  avarice  defined                 112 
it  impels  men  to  the  worst  of  crimes  ifc. 
it  requires  confession  and  restitution 

113 
portrait  of  an  avaricious  man      i  17:^ 

B 

Balaam,  his  tem()orising  character  ii  347 

Baptist,  (John,)  an  opinion  of  his  i  158 

Barzillai  apparently  anticipating  dealli     i  402 
Bayle,  an  error  of  his  refuted,  i  388 

Begnon,    (Ri-v.   Mr.)   comforted   against   the 
fears  of  death  by  Christ's  valedic- 
tory address  ii  147 
Believers  often  rt'ceivo  the  greatest  good  from 
the  severest  allliction  i  75 
the  believer  superior  to  the  infidel  at 


the  bar  of  authority,  at  the  bar  of 
interest,  of  history,  of  reason,  of 
conscience,  and  of  Bcejjticism  it- 
self 225 
Benediction  on  the  different  classes  of  hearers 
at  the  close  of  a  sermon,       ii  91 
Benevolence  described                               i  372 
the  want  of  it  a  horrible  crime  414 
it  is  the  brightest  ornament  of  re- 
ligion                                   417 
Birth,  (new,)  the  ideas  of  the  Rabbins  con- 
cerning it                                    ii  392 
Bodies  of  tiie  glorified  saints  probably  not  visible 
to  the  grossity  of  our  sight          1328 
Born  again,  meaning  of  the  expression    ii  401 
Brothels,  the  duty  of  magistrates  concerning 
them                                         ii  44 
Bull,  (Bp.)  proves  from    the  fathers  of  the 
primitive  church,  their  belief  that  Jesus 
Christ  subsisted    before  his  birth — 
that  he  was  of  the  same  essence  with 
the  Fatiier — and  that  he  subsisted 
with  him  from  all  eternity         i  277 

c 

CsBsar,  his  maxims  and  conquests  ii  9 

CsBsarea,  two  towns  of  that  name  i  157 

Calamités,  (national,)  often  tjie    forerunners 
of  greater  plagues  in  four  respects 
ii  352 
Caleb  and  Joshua,  the  only  two  that  entered 
Canaan,  are  urged  as  an  argument  to 
rouse  sinners  ii  358 

Canticles,  an  apolotry  for  the  figurative  style 
of  that  book  ii  3 

Cato  of  Utica  persuaded  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  by  reading  Plato  i  141 

Ceremonial  law  superseded  by  Clirist  i  288 
whatever  morality  was  contain- 
ed in  the  Jewish  ritual  law,  &c. 
is  still  retained  ii  374 

Characters  described,  the  Jews  i  171 

.the  infidel  Vh 

the  miser  ib. 

the  temporiser  U). 

a  man  in  public  life,  his  danger  ii 
285 
Charity  must  be  followed  ii  312 

Chastisements  designated  to  excite  mourning 
and  repentance  i  385 

Christ  the  Word,  a  proof  of  his  Godhead    i  61 
C'hrist  would  still  weep  over  simiers  111 

Christ  a  counsellor  154 

he  is  our  reconciliation  by  the  advo- 
cacy of  his  blood  155 
he  is  the  niiglity  God  and  afîbrds  pro- 
tection to  his  people  ib. 
he  affords  protection  against  the  fears 
of  death,  being  the  everlasting  Fa- 
ther                                                ib. 
various  opinions  of  Christ                157 
inquiries    of    titis   kind   may   be   put 
through    pride,    tiirough    curiosity, 
revenge,  and  benevolence              ib. 
Christ  the  brightness  of  ce  Ditu,  dont  il  est  la 
marque  engravce  el  h  caractère    173 
Christ  accused  of  sedition,  not  by  the  Romans, 
not  by  the  populace,  but  by  divines 
and  ecclesiastics                               ib. 
Christ  the  author  and  finisher  of  faith         299 
Christ's  supremacy  asserted  and  vindicated 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


against  tho  objection  of  its  being 

acquired  i  216.  271 

Christ  a  supremo  lawgiver  206 

ho  is  supremely  adorable  and  adored 

273 
reply  to  those  who  say  he  acquired  the 
riglit  to  be  adored  240 

his  wiiole  design  is  to  make  us  resemble 
God  332 

he  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
for  ever,  how  much  soever  ho  may 
vary  the  situation  of  his   churcli 
318 
he  subsisted  with  the  Father  from  all 
eternity  27J 

he  is  called  the  consolation  of  Israel 
iiMl 
he  is  present  with  his  disciples         155 
Christ's  threefold  relation  to  God  1 5 1 

to  the  apostles  160 

to  the  believers  102 

he  is  of  the  same  nature  with  the  Fa- 
ther •  157 
his  not  knowing  the  whole  truth  and 
the  time  of  the  day  of  judgment  as 
mediator,     accounted    for    on    tho 
growth  of  his  kjiowledgc               158 
his  kingdom  and  exaltation             159 
he  prayed  for  the  apostles  and  their 
successors                                        101 
union  of  believers  with  Clirist          162 
the  duty  of  confessing  Christ  before 
men  20 
Christ's  death  and  atonement  for  sin           167 
six  reasons  assigned  for  the  slight  im- 
pression  which    the    exaltation   of 
Christ  produces                             183 
denied  and  acknowledged  by  his  friends 

417 
Christian  religion,  the  majesty  of  it,  and  the 
consequent  respect  we  should  che- 
rish  for   the   scripture   characters 
i  02 
the  amiablencss  of  it  in  regard  to  par- 
don and  grace  103 
its   pacific  character  in  a  political 
view                                            175 
its  tendency  to  disturb  the  vices  of 
society                                           177 
its  superiority  to  Judaism             346 
Christianity  contrasted   with   Mahometanism 

ii  355 
genius  of  401 

The  Christian  has  a  grandeur  of 
character  superior  to  all  other 
characters  i  148 

he  is  obliged  to  contend  with  the 
world  in  order  to  preserve  peace 
of  conscience  179 

he  is  indulgent  to  a  tender  con- 
science 245 
his  life  is  dependant  on  Christ  247 
he  lives  to  Christ  247 
and  dies  to  Christ                      248 
he    finds  difficulties  in   attaining 
crucifixion  with  Christ        ii  22 1 
he  is  supported  in  his  course  by 
six  sources  of  consolation       277 
lie  has  a  cloud  of  witnesses  for 
models                                    278 
tlio  difi'ercnce  between   a  Chris- 
tian who  enjoys  heartfelt  reU- 


gion  and  one  who  does  not  en- 
joy it  385 
tho  primitive  Christians  were  mo- 
dels  of  charity                       i  420 
contentious   Christians   are    only 
novices  in  religion                 ii  88 
forbearance  recommended  in  opi- 
nions 107 
Christians  should  bo  distinguished  by  love  151 
they  are  not  of  tho  world  164 
Chrysostom,  his  zeal  in  sending  out  missiona- 
ries                                      i  420 
his  exposition   of  the  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Ghost     ii  328 
Church,  the,  often  established  by  the  means 
which  tyrants  employ  to  destroy  it 
i  76 
the  church  has  often  varied  her  situa- 
tion in  regard  of  worldly  glory,  of 
poverty  and  of  persecution         348 
the  churcli  is  a  family                   ii  316 
her  children  should  love  one  another 
with  a  superior  attachment         313 
Cicero,  the  powers  of  his  eloquence  in  soften- 
ing the  heart  of  Cœsar  and  saving 
Ligarius                                       i  200 
his  gloomy  notion  of  life                 ii  95 
Cleophas,  wiio  he  was                              ii  419  ' 
Clovis  I.  conversion  of  that  king  i  5 
his  immoral  life  ib. 
Commandments,  charges  to  keep  them  ii  150 
the  importance  of  the  com- 
mand to  love  one  another 
151 
Conduct  of  God  to  men,  and  of  men  to  God 

411 
Conflict  and  triumph  of  Christian  believers  418 
Conscience,  Œdipus,  a  Theban  king       i  199 
in  hell  ii  8 

he  is  a  fool  who  denies  its  power 
322 
it  founds  its  decisions  on  three 
principles  i  323 

it  is  to  the  soul  what  the  senses 
are  to  the  body  366 

Consolation,  six  sources  of  it  in  Christ's  vale- 
dictory address  ii  152 
Conversation   must  be  with  grace,  seasoned 
with  salt  i  410 
it  must  be  adorned  with  chastity 
407 
exempt  from  slander  in  seven  re- 
spects 409 
from  unfounded  complaisance   ib. 
and  from  idle  words                410 
five  vices  of  conversation        411 
three    maxims    of    conversation 
412 
Conversion,  exhortations  to  it                     i  48 
it    consists  in    illumination  and 
sanctification                      ii  242 
natural  difficulties  of  conversion 
in  old  age  ib. 
the  habits  of  old  age  obstinately 
oppose  conversion                  ib. 
it  is  greatly  obstructed  by  the  re- 
currence of  former  ideas      243 
the  habit  of  loving  God,  an  essen- 
tial fruit  of  conversion,  is  diffi- 
cult to  acquire  in  old  age     243 
old  habits  must  be  counteracted, 
and  new  ones  formed           244 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


IV 

Conversion,  a  powerful  exhortation  to  conver- 
sion 248 
arguments   from  tlio  holy  scrip- 
tures against  tiic  delay  of  con- 
version 261 
conversion  by  irresistible  grace  in 
our  last  moments,  as  stated  by 
the  Supralapsarians,  refuted  in 
five  arguments  £62 
the  instantaneous  conversions  of 
scripture    characters,    guarded 
against  abuse                 261,  &c. 
those  conversions  had  five  marks 
of  reality  which   leave  negli- 
gent christians  without  excuse 
263 
Corinthians  puffed  up  above  the  divine  laws, 
as  appears  from  their  neglect 
to  expel  the  incestuous  man 
1306 
divisions,  or  a  party  spirit  in  the 
church  of  Corinth                ii  92 
Council  of  Trent  maintained    the  merit  of 
works                                       i  300 
Counsel  and  wisdom  of  God                        i  72 
A  courtier,  his  life  may  be  innocent 
1398 
a  wise  man  will  consider  a  court  as 
dangerous  to  his  salvation  ih. 
ho  will  enter  on  his  high  duties  with 
a    fixed  resolution  to    surmount 
temptations                                399 
the  arduous  duties  of  good  men  at 
courts  ib. 
the  dangers  sliould  not  induce  men  to 
desist  from  duty                          400 
reasons  for  retiring  from  a  court   402 
Covenant  of  grace,  the,  is  guarded  by  condi- 
tions                              ii  256.  305 
the  Christian   and  the   Jewish  co- 
venant differ    in    circumstances 
only,  being  the  same  in  substance 
302 
this  covenant  had  five  character- 
istics— the  sanctity  of  the  j)lace 
303 
the  universality  of  the  contract    ib. 
its  mutual  engagements               304 
its  extent  of  obligation                 305 
its  oath  ib. 
the  ancient  mode  of  contracting  a 
covenant                                    306 
method  of  covenanting  with  God  in 
the  holy  sacrament                  301 
Covctousness,  persons  habitually  guilty  of  this 
sin,  and  yet  professing  to  be 
Clirisl's    disciples,    strikingly 
resemble  Judas  (sec  Jlvaricc) 
ii  112 
Croesus,  his  celebrated  question,  IJliat  is  God? 
which  cnil)arrassed  Thaïes,  as  rela- 
ted Ijy  Terlnllian                       1211 
Criticism  on  I'sal.   xl.  12.  "mine  iniquities," 
&c.  as  applied  to  (^hri.st         i  283 
on  Hebrews  x.  5.  "  a  body  hast  thou 
prepared  me,"                          284 
on  Lukexi.  41.  "  Ye  give  alms,"  &.c. 
414 
on  1  Sam.  xxi.                          Ii  130 
on  1  Thesfi.  iv.  13,  18.              ii  334 
on  the  word  bar  an                       i  192 
Jt  has  three  significations: — 1.  To 


bend  the  knee,  Psal.  xcv.  6, 
2  Chron.  vi.  13.  Gen.  xxiv.  H. 
2.  To  solicit  or  to  confer  good. 
Gen.  xxiv.  35. — 3.  To  imprecate 
evil.  Job  i.  5,  11. — ii.  5.  ib. 

on  Matt,  xxiii.  23.  1  858 

on  Gen.  vi.  3.  ii  ^0 

on  Hosea  xiii.  9.  115 

Cross,  five  bucklers  against  the  offence  of  tha 
cross — tlic  miserable  condition  of  a 
lost  world  11  148 

the  downfall  of  Satan  ib. 

the  sovereign  command  of  God  to  save 
mankind  149 

the  storm  ready  to  burst  on  the  perse- 
cutors ibt 
the  grand  display  of  Christ's  love  to  his 
disciples  t6. 
glorying  in  the  cross  of  Christ         218 
the  cross  of  Christ  relatively  consider- 
ed, assorts  with  all  the  difficulties 
and  trials  of  this  life  .                    222 
we  must  either  be  crucified  by  the  cross, 
or  immolated  to  the  divine  justice 
224 
the  atrocious  guilt  of  those  who  nailed 
the  Lord  to  the  cross  ib. 
the  cross  considered,  relatively  to  the 
proofs  of  his  love  ib. 
to  the  truth  of  his  doctrine  iA. 
to  the  similarity  of  sentiment,  and  the 
glory  that  shall  follow                  225 

D 

Darkness  at  our  Saviour's  death  11  166 

David,  his  preference  of  God's  aflliction  ra- 
ther than  of  man's  11  42 
God's  long  suffering  to  him          1  115 
his  gratitude  to  Barzillai  403 
his  affected  epilepsy  before  Achish  was 
an  innocent  stratagem  to  save  his 
life,  and  imitated  by  many  illustri- 
ous heathens                             11  129 
John  Ortlob  supposes  It  a  case  of  real 
aflliction  130 
he  was  too  indulgent  to  his  children  26 
his  piety                                          11  283 
Day  of  the  Lord                                          11  94 
Days,  the  numbering  of  them                  11  211 
Death,  the  reflections  of  a  dying  man      1  186 
terrors  at  the  aspect  of  death       295 
dealli  considered  as  a  shipwreck     416 
the  death  of  wicked  men               1»  4 1 
the  terrors  of  dying  126 
the  death  of  good  men  41 
death  is  a  preacher  of  incomparable 
eloquence  86 
Jacob  and   Simeon  both  wished  to  dio 
through  excess  of  joy                    140 
the  words  of  dying  men  are  usually 
very  impressive                          ii  156 
the  death  of  Christ  is  to  the  Jews  an 
atrocious  crime                              nO 
the  death   of  Christ  an  ex|>iation  of 
sin,  and  a  model  of  confulenco    167 
death  vaufpiished  by  Clirist              171 
he  has  removed  the  terrors  of  dying  by 
unveiling  futurity                          172 
by  giving  us  remission  of  sins          234 
tlic  complete  assurance  of  immortality 
and  life,  removes  the  terrors  of  death 
232 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


arguments  to  fortify  a  cliristian  against 
tiic  fear  of  death  233 

dcatli  unites  us  to  the  family  above  3 1 9 
conteiii[)lutions  on  dcatii  340 

a  striking  tiiouglit  to  dying  sinners  on 
tiie  word  perhaps  400 

Decrees  connected  witli  means  i  302 

Deists,  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  divides  them  into 
four  classes  i  pref  20 

Deism,  is  incumbered  with  insuperable  diffi- 
culties  ii  358 

Democracy,  defects  of  that  form  of  govern- 
ment i  391 
Demosthenes,  examples  of  his  eloquence  i  242 
Depravity  of  men                                      i  105 
Descartes  contributed  to  remove  the  absurd 
notions  of  God,  imbibed  by  the 
echooJmen  i  56 
Despair  and  gloom,  ten  arguments  against  it 

i  98 

despair  from  the  death  of  the  head  of 

a  house  ii  337 

Devil,  has  malice  and  wiles  ii  226 

Difficulties  of  succeeding  a  great  character 

ii  344 
Doctrines  of  Christ — six:  Ilcb.  vi.  141 

abstruse  doctrines  are  difficult   to 
weigh  ii  3 

difficulties  of  attending  to  abstract 
doctrines  i  62 

Drusilla,  her  character  ii  8.  294 

Duelling  attended  with  bad  consequences  ii  39 
Dupont,  (Professor)  his  life  ii  127 

his  essay  on  David's  feigned  epilep- 
sy before  Achish  129 
Duties,  the  smaller  duties  of  religion        i  365 
attention  to  them,  contribute  to  a  ten- 
der conscience                              366 
to  reconversion  after  great  relapses 

367 
they  contribute  by  their  frequency,  for 
what  is  wanting  in  their  imjjor- 
tanco  368 

they  afford  sometimes  stronger  marks 
of  real  love  to  God,  than  greater 
duties  lb. 

duties  of  professional  men  ii  31 

duties  of  ministers  when  alone  with 
dying  people  32 

duties  of  preaching  and  hearing  are 
connected  62 

the  high  duties  of  princes  and  magis- 
trates 343 
Dying  people  often  fall  into  six  mistakes  ii  32 

E 

Ecclesiastes,  a  caution  against  misquoting  that 
book  ii  65 

Ecclesiastical  domination  attended  with  six 
evils    •  i  167 

Earnest  of  the  Holy  Spirit  i  334 

Eating  sour  grapes,  a  proverbial  expression 

ii413 
Edicts,  a  catalogue  of,  against  the  Protestants 

ii  366 
Education  of  children,  a  grand  duty,  &c.  ii  23 
seven  maximsof  a  good  education  27 
bad  education  must  be  reformed  76 
Ejaculations  for  divine  aid  in  preaching  i  236 
Eleazer,  his  martyrdom  ii  281 

Eli,  Eli,  lama  subactliani:  our  author  illus- 


trates the  conjecture  of  some  Jews,  that 

Christ  called  for  Elias  ii  167 

Elijah,    his    ascension    strikingly    illustrated 

ii362 

Errors,  speculative,  may  be  injurious  to  the 

soul  i  375 

Essenes,  it  is  highly  probable  that  many  of 

them  embraced  Clu-istianity,  (see 

Eusebius)  i  245 

Eternity,  cflbrts  to  calculate  its  lencfth        i  87 

Evidence  of  object,  and  evidence  of  testimony 

defined  ii  174 

Exile  recommended  in  a  bloody  persecution 

ii  288 
Existence,  the  consciousness  of  it  proved  after 
the  Cartesian  manner  i  50 

Exordiums,  our  author's  method  in  that  point 
was  singularly  striking  i  186. 
312— ii  42 
miracles  and   prodigies  gave  the 
first  preachers  a  superiority  over 
us  in  point  of  exordiums  ii  195 
an  exordium  of  negatives      1321 
an  exordium  on  alms  413 

an  exordium  of  prodigies;  an  in- 
comparable one  on  the  oblation 
of  Christ  165 

Experience  is  the  best  of  preachers,  &c.  ii  260 


Faith,  the  circumstances,  the  efforts,  the  evi- 
dences, and  the  sacrifices  which  ac- 
company it  i  160 
the  just  shall  live  by  it  299 
justifying  faith  described  ib. 
the  faith  inculcated  by  the  Arians  and 
by  many  of  the  Romanists,  refiited 
300 
the  distinction  between  being  justified 
by  faith,  and  the  having  only  a  de- 
sire to  be  justified,  illustrated  in  five 
respects                                          301 
faith  without  works  is  dead              304 
inattention  to  providence,  a  cause  of 
the  weakness  of  our  faith              349 
faith  or  belief  described                    372 
obscure  faith  defined                      ii  174 
an  act  of  faith  in  regard  to  retrospec- 
tive and  to  future  objects              180 
Family  of  Christ,  five  characters  of  it      ii  316 
Fast,   a  striking    method   of  notifying    one 

325 
Fasting  enforced  from  the  plague,  the  mur- 
rain of  tlie  cattle,  and  the   loss  of 
trade  347 

Fatalism,  its  manner  of  comforting  the  afflict- 
ed i  229 
Fear,  as  applied  to  God,  has  three  accepta- 
tions: terror,  worship,  and  homage, 
arising  from  a  conviction  that  God 
possesses  every  thing  to  make  us  hap- 
py or  miserable  i  18 
arguments  against  the  fear  of  man  119 
Feast  of  the  fliinting                                 ii  419 
Felix,  his  character                                    ii  29S 
he  is  considered  as  a  heathen,  a  prince, 
an  avaricious  and  a  voluptuous  man 
296 
his  procrastination  is  imitated  by  sin- 
ners 298 
Festivals                                                 ii  371 


VI 

Figurative  language,  specimens  of  its  beauty 

and  force  i  423.  ii  94 

the  ficrurative  style  of  Isaiah  xi. 

i  Gl 

it  is  inadequate  to  express  divine 

tilings  53 

specimen  of  its  powers  379 

Fire,  it  burns  the  wood,  hay  and  stubble,  and 

purifies  the  gold  and  silver  i  94 

the  frailties  of  nature  distinguished  from 

wilful  sins  i  374 

G 

Games  in  Greece  and  Rome,  five  remarks  on 
them  ii  10 

Gaming,  the  sin  of  ii  6.  i  402 

Genealogy  of  Christ  ii  314 

a  solution  of  the  difficulties  of  it, 
apparently  correct  315 

of  the  persons   nearly  related  to 
the  Lord  ib. 

Genius,  tradesmen  often  ruined  by  a  superior 
intellect  i  74 

Glory  of  the  latter  day,  or  prosperity  of  the 
Messiah's  kingdom  i  182 

God's  elernily  i  6 1 

liis  supreme  felicity  52 

God  realized  in  a  fine  exordium  56 

his  omnipresence  58  &c.  i  58 

proved  by  his  boundless  knowledge,  his 
general  influence,  and  his  universal 
direction  il>. 

God  is   a  spirit  and  matter,  however  modi- 
fied, can  never  resemble  him  57 
God  protects  us  by  his  presence,  he  invigo- 
rates virtue,  and  awes  vice                 60 
God's  ubiquity  exemplified                            61 
the  grandeur  of  God  justifies  mysteries, 
and  supersedes  objects                      62 
it  is  an  argument  to  repentance,  to  hu- 
mility, to  confidence,  and  to   vigi- 
lance                                                63 
it    is    a  grand  subject    for  enforcing 
charges  of  sanctity  on  an  audience 

64 
the  sublime  description  of  God  in  the 
xith  of  Isaiah  is  to  discountenance 
idolatry  65 

God's  essence  is  independent  in  its  cause      66 
universal  in  its  extent  ib. 

it  comprises  every  excellence  ib. 

it  is  unchangeable  in  its  operations 
while  variation  is  the  character  of  the 
creature  67 

it  is  eternal  in  duration  ib. 

the  grandeur  of  God  conspicuous  in 
the  immensity  of  his  works  ib. 

God,  great  in  counsel,  and  mighty  in  ope- 
ration; matter  and  spirit  are  alike 
known  to  him  73 

God^s  Iwliness  proved   from  nature,  from  an- 
gels, and  tlie  human  heart  85 
God's  holiness  is  our  model  84 
God^s  compassion  must  be  in  unison  with  the 
spirituality  of  his  essence,  for  a  hurt- 
ful pity  is  weakness  87 
be  alone  is  capable  of  perfect  compas- 
sion                                                 89 
it  is  exemplified  to  sinful  men,  by  the 
victim  he  has  substituted,  by  the  pa- 
tience he  has  exercised,  by  the  sins 
ho  bos  pardoned,  by  the  fricndshi]>  he 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


has  afforded,  and  by  the  rewards  he 
has  conferred  90 

the  goodness  of  God  defined       95.10» 
God^s  anger  and   wrath,  are   ideas  borrowed 
from    rncn;     tlio    animal     spirits    boil 
with   rage,  but   anger  with    God  is 
knowing  how  to  proportion  punish- 
ment to  crime;  this  idea  is  striking- 
ly exemplified  in  six  instances       100 
God  is  one  in  excellence,  which  is  the  source 
of  all  his  perfections;  they  all  act  in  uni- 
son, exemplified  in  five  points      208 
God's  love  to  sinners  102 

the  time  of  God's  justice  must  come 

109 
the  terrors  of  God's  vengeance        235 
God''s  long-suffcrins;  abused  four  ways         1 1 1 
to  David,  Manasseh,  Peter,  &.  Saul  of 
Tarsus  115 

God,  the  reverence  due  to  him  122 

in  regard  to  his  regal  sovereignty  and  im- 
mortality, he  is  the  object  of  our  fear 

124 
the  grandeur  of  God  in  his  works,  awes 
the  tyrants  of  the  church  ib. 

the   whole   creation  fights  for  God   at 
his  pleasure  125 

God,  the  object  of  praise;  to  join  with  angels 
in  this  duty,  we  must  have  the  senti- 
ments of  angels  127 
character  of  God's  mercy   ii  47.  255.  325 
the  depths  of  God  "iZ 
ofnature                                                74 
of  providence                                         '5 
of  revelation  76 
God  is  present  in  religious  assemblies  ii  193 
God's   long-suffering   has  limits,    as  appears 
from  public   catastrophes,  from    obdu- 
rate  sinners,  from  dying  men      266 
perfections  of                                   ii  404 
Gold,  silver,  Sec.  are  figuratively  sound  doc- 
trine                                          ii  94 
Gospel,  our  author  often  preached  on  the  gos- 
pel for  the  day,  which  accounts  for 
his  long  texts                              i  99 
the  gospel  reveals  the  perfections  of 
God                                              327 
its  doctrines  afe  infallible            ii  160 
the  great  sin  of  not  profiting  by  its  su- 
perior light                           333,  &c. 
invites  all  men  to  repentance         396 
grace  requires  a  preparation  of  heart 
ii  142,  &c. 
there  are  degrees  of  grace               1 S 1 
the  folly  of  sinning  that  grace  may 
abound                                  255,  &c. 
a  day  of  grace,  or  time  of  visitation 
allowed  to  nations  and  to  individu- 
als                                               366 
the  sufficiency  of  grace                   2S4 
the  day  of  grace,  or  time  of  visitation 

301 
the  doctrines  of  graco  admirably  stat- 
ed in  six  propositions  396,  &c. 
five  cautionary  maxims  against  mis- 
stating the  doctrine  395 
gratitude  required  for  mercies       385 

II 

Habits,  vicious  ones,  may  be  renounced  when 

old,  in  five  cases  ii  245 

Hearers  recommended  to  review  their  life  i  1 16 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


vu 


Hearers,  some  may  bo  moved  with  tenderness, 

but  others  require  terror  86 

plain  dealing  with  negligent  hearers 

the  hearer  who  wantonly  sins  against 
liglit,  is  thouglit  to  equal  the  Athe- 
ist in  guilt  1 1 1 
a.  repartee  with  hearers  on  tlie  word 
fear                                            ii  251 
they  are  reminded  of  righteousness, 
temperance,  and    a    judgment  to 
come                                            299 
Heaven,  God  will  there  communicate  ideas  or 
knowledge                                i  329 
love                                                 330 
virtue  in- 
felicity                                            331 
these  four  communications  are  con- 
nected togctiier;  we  cannot  in  hea- 
ven licli)  possessing   rectitude  of 
thouglit  and  a  propensity  to  love 
and  imitate  God                          332 
a  resemblance  of  God  being  the  es- 
sence of  heaven,  it  is  Satan's  plan 
to  render  man  unlike  his  God     ib. 
scholastic    disputation    whether    we 
shall  know  one  another  in  heaven 
ii  25 
thoughts  of  heaven  diminish  the  an- 
guish of  tlie  cross                        153 
the  joys  of  meeting  Christ  and  saints 
in  heaven                                    155 
the  third  heaven  of  which  St.  Paul 
speaks                                         201 
why  its  happiness  is  unutterable      ib. 
the  blessed  in  heaven  possess  superior 
knowledge                                   208 
they  are  prompted  by  inclinations  the 
most  noble  and  refined                203 
they  possess  all  sensible  pleasure  in 
lieaven                                        206 
the  church  sighing  for  more  of  hea- 
ven                                     209,  &c. 
foretastes  of  heaven  felt  on  earth  313 
the  delightful  society  of  heaven,  &c. 
319 
Hebrew  Christians,  the  scope  and  design  of 
St.  Paul's  epistle  to  them      ii  271 
their  situation  stated                 286 
Hell,  there  is  no  philosophy  against  its  fear 

i336 
the  eternity  of  hell  torments  ib. 

this  doctrine  confirmed  and  Origen  re- 
futed 337 
four  farther  arguments  on  this  subject 

338 
the  torments  of  hell  consist  in  the  priva- 
tion of  celestial  happiness  340 
in  painful  sensations  ib. 
in  remorse  of  conscience                     341 
in  tiio  horrors  of  society                       ib. 
in  the  increase  of  sin                            ib. 
there  are  degrees  of  torment  in  hell,  but 
the  mildest  are  intolerable           ii  100 
the  cries  of  its  iniiabitants                   340 
Hero,  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than 
ho  that  taketh  a  city,  in  four  respects 
i  427.  ii  384 
Herod  Antipas,  his  conduct  to  Jesus         i  174 
Herodotus,  his  account  of  Pharoah  Necho's 
expedition                          ii  364 
{sec  our  Prideaux.) 


Hobbes  and  Machiavel,  a  word  to  their  disci- 
pies  ii  350 
Holland,  very  wicked  men  in  it  i  333 
six  cautions  to  tliat  nation  385 
augurs  of  its  prosperity  from  its  tears 
38S 
a  sketch  of  ils  vices  ii  351.  i  110.  221 
three  sources  of  hope  for  Holland, 
&c.                                            ii  353 
its  high  and  migiity  lords  called  to 
repentance   '                                38S 
religious  disputes  in  Holland        395 
Holiness,   the   word    has  many   acceptations 

i  79 
it  is  virtue,  rectitude,  order,  or  a  con- 
formity to  God  80 
it  often  means  justice                      81 
or  fitness                                          ib. 
Huott,  his  eccentricity                                  i  94 
Humanity  to  the  brute  creation  enforced  by 
Jewish  and  Pagan  laws        ii  372 
JIumility,  a  cause  of  gratitude                  i  130 
Hypocrisy  rebuked                                     i  364 
the  hypocrite  described           i  36S 


Ideas,  the  imperfection  of  them  i  329 

change  of  ii  401 

Idleness,  mischiefs  arising  from  it  i  371 

Idolatry,  best  refuted  by  irony  i  69 

it  disgraces  man  made  in  the  image 
of  God  ii  29 

Image  of  God  in  man  i  332 

its  remains  83 

Imagination,  its  magnifying  powers  over  the 
imaginative  ii  75 

Inferences,  Heb.  ii.  1,3.   A  striking  inference 
from    the    Godhead    of   Christ 
1280 
Inferences  from  the  being  of  God  i  94 

a  caution  against  wrong  inferences 
from  St.  Peter's  sin  162 

the  multitude  ought  not  to  be  our 
rule  m 

Infidelity  affects  an  air  of  superiority        ii  52 
its  dogmas  revolt  our  moral  feel- 
ings ib. 
it  followed  the  spirit  of  blind  credu- 
lity                                           186 
it  has  insuperable  difilculties       359 
Iniquities  of  the  fathers  visited  on  the  childrenj 
the  nature  of  that  economy    i  107 
Intemperance                                            ii  295 
Intercession  of  Christ;  its  omnipotency,  &c. 

ii  163 
Isaac,  a  type  of  Christ  ii  169 

Isaiah,  his  mission  to  Ahaz  i  150 

Isis,  an  Egyptian  god  alluded  to  ii  35 

Isimiael  preserved  by  providence  ii  26 

Invocation  adapted  to  the  subject  ii  395 


James,  (St.)  the  parado.xes  or  high  morality 
of  his  epistle  i  350 

Jeremiah,  the  sale  of  liis  land  a  proof  of  pro- 
phecy i  71 
his  boldness  at  fourteen  years  of  age 
159 
his  severe  mission  to  his  country  ii 
187 


TIU 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Jeremiah,  his  complainta  against  them      347 
Jews,  tlicir  Jiardness  and  opprobrium  inferred 
from  the  various  methods  Jesus  Christ 
adopted  for  tlieir  conversion         i  1G4 
we  should  have  a  little  patience  with 
their  prejudices  183 

the  Jews  safer  guides  to  prophecy  than 
some  Ciiristians, — (perhaps  tiie  author 
alludes  to  Grotius,  who  affected  an 
unpardonable  singularity  in  his  expo- 
sitions of  the  prophecies,)  187 
could  they  bo  persuaded  though  one 
rose  from  the  dead                      202 
two  answers  ib. 
their  fair  promises  before  Sinai  were 
transient                                       ii  82 
six  of  their  calamities  deplored  by 
Ezekiel                                        365 
character  of  their  apostate  kings    367 
the  Jews  perished  as  the  Galileans 

381 

the  calamities  of  the  Jews  and  those 

of  Europe,  compared  ib. 

John  and  Mary,  address  of  Christ  to        ii  41 7 

Judas  went  to  his  own  place  ii  109 

it  were  better  that  he  had  not  been  born, 

in  four  arguments  ib. 

the  circumstances  in  which  he  sinned 

113 

the  pleas  with  which  he  covered  his 

crime  ib. 

the  confession  extorted  by  his  conscience 

114 
Judgment,  the  day  of  i  63 

power  of  the  judge  54 

a  future  judgment  is  inferred  from 
disorders  of  society,  from  the 
power  of  conscience,  and  from 
revelation  322 

we  shall  be  judged  according  to  the 
dispensations  under  which  we 
lived  325 

these  are  light,  proportion  or  ta- 
lents ib. 
and  mercy                          326,  &c. 
Judgments  (national,)  the  erroneous  and  the 
just  light  in  which  they  should  bo 
viewed                        ii  378,  &c. 
four  erroneous  dispositions  in  which 
they  are  viewed                ib.  &c. 
God  is  not  only  the  author  of  all 
judgments,   but  he  determines 
their  ends  in  three  respects    379 
a  provisional    or  particular  judg- 
ment on  every  man  as  soon  as 
his  soul  leaves  the  body      i  321 
the    jiulfpiunt    or    opinion   must 
often  be  suspended               ii  76 
Justification,  Anselm's  mode  of  expressing  on 
that  subject                         i  301 
Justification  by  faith                                    299 

K 

Kcduscha  Kady  tis,  or  holy,  the  name  of  Jeru- 
salem in  many  of  the  ori- 
ental languages     ii  364 
King,  the  term  defined  ii  18 

responsible  343 

The  kingdom  of  Christ  is  not  of  this 
world,  as  is  apparent  from  his  design. 
Ilia  maxims,  his  marvellous  works. 


his  weapons,  bis  courtiers,  his  re^ 
wards  i  180 

his  kingdom  not  being  of  this  world,  de- 
monstrates the  authenticity  of  his 
mission  184 

a  search  for  the  subjects  of  the  Mes- 
siah's kingdom  among  the  Jews,  in 
Rome,  in  Protestant  countries      185 
in  this  point  the  faith  and  practice  of 
Christians  arc  at  dissonance  186 

of  heaven,  meaning  of  the  expression 
ii  401 
Knowledge,  the  imperfection  of  it,  no  proof 
of  the  non-existence  of  God,  and 
of  divine  truth  i  94 

defects    of    human    knowledge 
ii203 
five  reasons  why  our  knowledge 
is  circumscribed  360 

man  cannot  know  as  God  knows, 
which  is  an  adequate  apology 
for  the  mysteries  of  faith    362 


Latitudinarianism,  or  Deism  ii  359 

Law,  offending  in  one  point,  &c.  refers  to  ca- 
pital offences,  not  to  daily  frailties,  mo- 
mentary faults  and  involuntary  pas- 
sions i  352 
it  refers  to  wilful  and  presumptuous  sins, 
which  virtually  sap  the  foundation  of 
the  whole  law  in  three  respects     354 
the  law  requires  us  to  consider  God  as  a 
sovereign,  a  legislator,  and  a  father  ib. 
the    excellent  design  of  God's  law  in 
four  arguments  381 
Lawyers,  their  method  of  false  pleading  ii  73 
Learning  and  knowledge  should  be  acquired 
by  Christians                              i  219 
Legends,  a  specimen  of  them                    ii  140 
Lent,  apparently  observed  with  great  reve- 
rence by  the  author's  hearers    i  187 
this  festival  is  strongly  recommended 
ii  164 
Levitical  law  supported  by  three  classes  of 
persons                                       ii  219 
Libertines,  their  objections  against  revelation 

i62 
refuted  in  four  arguments  ib. 

Liberty,  (Christian)  described  i  270 

Liberty  described  in  five  points:  in  the  power 
of  suspending  the  judgment,  in  having 
the  will  in  unison  with  tiic  under- 
standing, the  conscience  sui)erior  to 
the  control  of  the  senses,  superior 
to  our  condition  in  life  i  268 

Liberty  is  incompatible  with  sin  269 

Life,  arguments  on  its  shortness  and  uncer- 
tainty ii  215 
tlic  life  of  men  divided  into  six  periods 

214 
this  life  is  a  season  of  probation  assign- 
ed for  making  our  choice  215 
the  grand  object  of  life  is  to  prepare  for 
eternity                                           210 
sinners  should  bo  grateful  for  the  re- 
prieve of  life  ib. 
life  well  spent  affords  satisfaction  to  old 
ago                                                i  289 
an  idle  life,  however  exempt  from  gross- 
er crime,  is  incompatible  with  a  state 
of  salvation                                   311 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


IX 


Lifè,  the  vlscissitudes  of  life  ii  69 

reflections  on  it  63 

wo  should  value  the  good  things  oCViCoih. 
some  men  hate  life,  through  a  disposi- 
tion of  melancholy  65 
through  a  principle  of  misanthropy     66 
tlirough  discontent  and  disgust             ib. 
and  through  an  excessive  fondness  of 
life                                                        ib. 
rectitude  and  delicacy  of  conscience  pro- 
mote disgust  of  life                             69 
Live,  liow  shall  we,  the  expression  beautifully 
applied                                              ii  417 
Louis  XIV,  a  cruel,  superstitious  and  enthu- 
siastic man                         i  389 
his  monarcliy  obviously  alluded 
to                                            391 
his    secret    policy    against    the 
neighbouring  states             395 
his  glory,  and  the  humiliation  of 
his  pride                             ii  lOS 
Love,  the  energy  of  the  love  of  Christ      i  201 
the  sinner  is  exliorted  to  enkindle  hife 
heart  with  love                               292 
effects  of  Christ's  love  on  the  heart  294 
his  love  is  an  inexhaustible  source  of 
consolation    in  all  the  distresses  of 
life,  and  in  the  agonies  of  death  295 
it  is  a  source  of  universal  obedience  ih. 
Love  to  God  described                               371 

M 

Machiavelian  politics  i  396.  ii  350 

portrait  of  the  infidel  who  shall 
presume  to  govern  a  king- 
dom on  those  principles  367 
Magistrates  addressed  ii  217 

Mahomet,  character  of  that  monster       ii  355 
Maimonides,  this  learned  Rabbi  agrees  with 
St.  Paul,  Rom.  xii.  2.  that  God 
requires  our  persons,  not  our 
sacrifices  i  288 

Malachi,  character  of  the  people  to  whom  he 
preached  ii  192 

and  the  character  of  the  priests    196 
Malebranche,  his  admirable  exposition  of  the 
passions  ii  73 

Man,  in  the  simplicity  of  youth  admires  the 
perfections  of  God,  and  the  theory  of 
rehgion  ii  278 

man  is  bom  with  a  propensity  to  vice 

281 
the  dangers  to  which  a  well  disposed 
man  is  exposed  to  in  public  life      285 
his  faculty  of  thinking,  loving  and  feel- 
ing,  demonstrate    the  limits  of   his 
mind  360 

wants  of  402 

Mankind,  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  diversity 
of  their  conditions  i  252 

they  are  all  equal  in  natural  pow- 
ers and  infirmities  253 
in   privilege,  and  claims  on  God 
and  providence                         254 
in  the  designations  of  the  Creator 
according  to  their  endowments 
255 
in  their  doom  to  sufier  and  die    256 
our  lot  in  life,   and  our  faculties 
prove  our  designation  for  another 
world                                      ii  6 1 


Marlborough,   (Duko    of)   his   victory  over 
Marshal  Villars  ii  89 

Martyrs,  a  fine  apostrophe  to  them  i  123 

the  Jews  believed  in  their  resurrec- 
tion 158 
the  moral  martyrs  are  sometimes  ac- 
cused of  rebellion                      ii  19 
they  have  a  fourfold  reward  21 
arguments  of  support  to  martyrs    13 
tlie  fear  of  martyrdom                   320 
Mary,  the  mother  of  Christ                      ii  421 
Marvellous,  the,  a  caution  against  it       ii  182 
Materiality  of  the  soul  refuted                  i  261 
.Maxims  of  the  world                                    ii  31 
Mediator,  Ciirist  in  this  oflSce  is  one  with  God 
in  three  respects                         ii  157 
Merchants,  apprised  of  a  heavenly  treasure 

ii  217 
Messiah,  a  comfort  to  the  church  under  the 
idea  of  the  Jewish  captivity         i  76 
Metaphysical  mode  of  reasoning,  concerning 
spirit  and  matter  i  58 

Ministers  or  casuists,  cautioned   ii  50.  71.  107 
humility  must  be  their  character  93 
St.   Paul   divides  them  into  three 
classes  ib. 

their  glory  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  97 
Ministers  should  be  distinguished  by  love   151 
an  address  to  them  217 

their  duty  when   attending  profli- 
j^ate  men  in  their  last  moments 
249 
woe,  woe  to  the  faithless  ministry 
259 
Ministers  must  strike  at  vice  without  respect 
to  persons  295 

Ministry,  the  little  success  of  Christ's  ministry 
accounted  for  by  five  considera- 
tions i  166 
the  christian  ministry  excites  digni- 
fied enemies  177 
attendance    on    it  must    make   us 
either  better  or  worse               386 
it  was  greatly  abused  by  tlie  Jews 
ii  8 
a  striking  transition  from  preaching 
the  most  tremendous  terrors,  to 
the  ministry  of  consolation  ii  250 
an  apology  for  the  ministry  of  ter- 
ror to  certain  characters          224 
Miracles  were  performed  in  tiie  most  public 
place  and  before  the  most  compe- 
tent judges                              i  197 
the  folly  of  asking  miracles  while  we 
live  in  sin                                    209 
Miser,  a,  his  reflections  at  a  funeral  but  tran- 
sient                                           i  203 
Molinists,  an  opinion  of  theirs  censured      ii  7 
Montausier  (Mons.  de)  his  confession       i  405 
Morality,  its   principle,  the   love  of  God  is 
always  tlie  same,  its  variations 
therefore  are  simply  the  effect  of 
superior  light                         i  324 
the  nature,  obligations  and  motives 
of  morality                 i  pref  xxxv 
it  has  five  characters:  it  is  clearly 
revealed  18 
it  is   distinguished   by   dignity   of 
principle                                     19 
by  equity  of  claims                         ib. 
by  being  within  our  reach             21 
and  by  the  power  of  its  motives  22 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Morality,  tho  morality  of  a  Boldicr,  of  a  states- 
man, of  a  merchant,  of  a  minis- 
ter i  397 
Moral  evidences,  its  differenco  from   mathe- 
matical                                          ii  183 
Moses,  his  advantage  as  a  preacher  i  5G 
ho  is  tiie  reputed  author  of  the  xcth 
Psalm                                          ii  210 
the  multitude  bad  guides  in  faith  ii  28 
in  worsliip  29 
in  morality  30 
in  dying                                                32 
Murrain  of  the  cattle  in  Holland             ii  319 
Mysteries  render  a  religion  doubtful  in  four 
respects                                      ii  355 
Mysteries  of  Mahonictism,  of  popery,  of  pa- 
ganism, of  infidelity,  contrasted  with 
Christianity  ib- 

N 

Nations  cautioned  against  placing  an  ultimate 
reliance  on  ileets  and  armies       i  126 
Nations  are  regarded  as  one  body,  in  the  visi- 
tation of  the  iniquities  of  our  fathers 
i  108 
National  dangers  should  especially  affect  those 
who  are  most  exposed  387 

Nativity  of  Christ,  all  nature  rejoicing  at  his 
birth  i  149 

Nature  and  grace  abound  with  marvels     i  93 
the  study  of  it  unsearchably  sublime 
ii  100 
Natural  religion,  the  disciple  of  it  embarrassed 
on  contemplating  the  miseries  of 
man,  &.c.  but  all  tlicse  are  no  diffi- 
culties to  the  disciple  of  revealed 
religion  1213 

the   disciple   of   natural    religion,   is 
equally   embarrassed    in    studying 
the  nature  of  man  in  three  respects 
214 
tlie  disciple  of  natural,  and  tlic  disci- 
ple of  revealed  religion,  at  the  tri- 
bunal of  God,  soliciting  pardon  216 
fortifying  themselves  against  the  fear 
of  death  217 

tho  confusion  of  Pagan  philosopiiers, 
respecting  natural  religion,  in  four 
respects  2 1 8 

Nebuchadnezzar,  the  rapidity  of  his  conquest 

i  68 
Nehcmas,  (Rabbi)  his  curious  reply  to  a  Ro- 
man Consul,  who  had  inquired  con- 
cerning the  name  of  God         i  328 
Nicodemites  described  ii  406 

Night,  a  christian  seeking  for  the  evidence  of 
religion,  is  placed  between  the  night 
of  historic  difficulties,  and  the  night 
of  his  future  hopes  ii  173 

the  faith  which  respects  tho  night  of 
futurity  179 

Nineveh,  the  fall  of  that  metropoUs  30  1 

Nobility  of  birth  extravagantly  panegyrized 

ii  343 
a  virtuous  descent,  the  highest  no- 
bility ib. 


o 


Opinions  of  tho  fathers  respecting  tho  salva- 
tion of  certain  heathens  i  220 


Oricen,  his  avowal  of  the  Godhead  of  Christ 
^  1280 

his  ideas  of  hell  335 

Original  sin,  or  seed  of  corruption,  attributed 
to  tlio  depravity  of  nature  i  215 
ii  281.  397 
it  is  hostile  to  truth  and  virtue    424 
it  disorders  tiie  soul  with  unholy  dis- 
positions ib. 
the  depravity  of  nature  is  increased 
by  acts  of  vice                             417 
it  descends  from  parents  to  children, 
and  therefore  is  a  strong  argument 
for  diligence  in  education  23 
Orobio,  (Isaac)  a  learned  Jew                  i  184 

P 

Pagans,  their  belief  in  the  presence  of  the 
gods  at  their  festivals,  largely 
illustrated  ii  194 

their  major  and  their  minor  myste- 
ries too  abominable  for  description 
358 
Papists,  their  uncharitableness  in  denjjing  sal- 
vation to  all  Christians  out  of  their 
communion  i  375 

they  cannot  be  saved  as  idolaters  376 
they  are  guilty  of  adoring  the  host, 
&c.  i*- 

they  are  but  a  novel  people,  compared 
with  the  primitive  Christians   ii  28 
their  preachers  censured  96 

Pardon,  promises  of  it  to  various  classes  of 
sinners  ii  94 

Parents  cautioned  how  to  look  on  their  chil- 
dren ii2n 
Party  spirit,  tiie  dangers  of  it  i  44 
Paul,  (St.)  he  kept  his  body  under  for  the 
race  and  the  fight                         ii  12 
an  eulogium  on  iiis  character  13 
the  time  of  his  rapture  into  the  tiiird 
heaven                                     ii  200 
the  transports  of  his  rapture              201 
the  obscurity  of  some  parts  of  his  writ- 
ings arise  for  the  want  of  historic 
reference                                     219 
he    preached   Ciirist  at   tlie    tribunals 
where     ho    was     prosecuted     for 
preaching  him                              293 
ho  selected  three  subjects  of  discourse 
before  Felix,  calculated  to  convert 
that  prince  ib. 
court    preachers  contrasted    with    St. 
Paul,  in  a  striking  apostrophe  to 
the  dignitaries  of  tlie  cluirch,  who 
surround  llie  person  of  Louis  XIV. 
294 
ho  is  a  model  for  preachers                299 
Passion,  a  lawless,  favourite  passion  dangerous 
to  the  soul                                  i  357 
the  passions  defined                      ii  72 
they  war  against  the  mind  74 
and  against  reason  76 
tho  disorders  they  excite  in  tiio  ima- 
gination, exceed  those  excited  in 
the  seasons  76 
erroneous  inferences  from   tho  pas- 
sions                                            ib. 
remedies  of  passion  described  77 
philosophical     advico    for    subduing 
them,  is  to  avoid  idleness  and  use 
mortification  7& 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


XI 


Passion,  an  apostroplic  to  grace   for  power 
over  passion  ii  H2 

tlio  illusive  happiness  acquired  by  tlic 
passions  34T 

Perfection,  the  highest  attainable  in  tliis  life,  is 
to   know   death,   and  not   fear  it 
ii  225 
Perseverance,  men  must  be  saints  before  we 
exhort    them     to    persevere 
ii  271 
we  cannot  be  saved  without  per- 
severance 274 
the  pcripluro  characters  founded 
their  assurance  on  persevering 
to  tlio  end'  ib. 
acavent  against  unqualified  per- 
severance                            275 
an  address  to  carnal  men,  who 
hold  tliis  doctrine               276 
to  visionary  men                    277 
to  sincere  people                    •  ib. 
models,  or  examples  of  perseve- 
rance                                 280 
Pentecost,  the  glories  of  the  day   ii  307.  i  191 
Persecution,  the  atrents  of  it  fulfd  the  pleasure 
of  the  Almiifhty                 i  124 
a  pathetic  contrast  between  the 
persecution  of  llio  Frcncli  Pro- 
testants, and  the  sufferings  of 
the  Jews,  on  tlie  destruction 
of  their  city,  by  Nebuchadnez- 
zar                                     ii  365 
Petavius,  the  Semi-Arian,  refuted  by  Bishop 
Bull                                            1277 
Peter,  (St.)  his  confession  of  faitli            i  260 
his  sermon  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  pos- 
sessed five  excellencies                  195 
a  fine  specimen  of  what  he  would  say, 
were  he  to  fill  a  \ml\ni                   200 
his  feelings  at  the  traiisfioruration  ii  207 
liis  attachment  to  the  Lcvitical  law  219 
six  circumstances  agjrravate  his  fall  321 
the  nature  of  iiis  repentance             323 
Phalaris,  his  cruelty                                    i  87 
Pharisees,  their  hyi)ocrisy  traced                ii  36 
Philo  had  a  notion  of  the  Trinity              i  222 
Philosophers,  tlieir  presumption                   i  78 
their  ancient  errors                175 
tlieir  prejudices  against  the  gos- 
pel unreasonable                206 
Philosophical  apatiiy,  a  great  evil           ii  348 
Piety,  its  excellence                                     i  55 
it  is  distinguished  by  knowledge,  since- 
rity, sacrifice  and  zeal         ii  35,  &c. 
Piety   is  productive  of  health  38 
of  reputation                                       ib. 
of  fortune  39 
of  happiness  ib. 
of  peace  ib. 
of  confidence  in  death                         ib. 
the  |)iety  of  Ephraim  and  Judah  tran- 
sient 84 
BO  is  the  piety  excited  by  public  calami- 
ties                                                 ib. 
by  religious  festivals  85 
by  the  fear  of  death  86 
transient  piety  implies  a  great  want  of 
allegiance  to  (.rod  as  a  king           (6. 
exemplified  by  Ahab  87 
it  implies  an  absurdity  of  character    ib. 
it  is  an  action  of  life  perverted  by  a  re- 
turn to  folly  ib. 


Piety,  it  is  incompatible  with  the  whole  de- 
sign of  religion  88 
it  renders  God's  promises  to  ua  doubt- 
ful                                                   ib. 
it  is  imprudent                                      ib. 
Piety   of  taste  and   sentiment  defined      384 
the  judgment  we  form  of  our  state  un- 
der privations                                  385 
when  privation  is  general,  it  indicates 
an  unregenerate  state                    387 
Pilate,  the  baseness  of  bis  conduct            i  173 
his  cruelty  to  the  Galileans          ii  377 
Plato,  a  sketch  of  his  republic                  ii  278 
Plato's  opinion  of  God                                  i  57 
Plague,  an  argument  for  fasting  and  humilia- 
tion                                             ii  349 
national  plagues  sevenfold               352 
appalling  horrors  of  the  plague       354 
Pleasure,  miscliiefs  arising  from  unlawful  in- 
dulgences                              i  47.  78 
Politeness,  as  |)ractised  by  bad  men           ii  19 
Poor,  (tlie)  a  fine  series  of  arguments  in  beg- 
ging for  tiiem                                     i  409 
Pope,  his  kingdom  compared  with  Christ's  i  185 
I'opery,  sketcli  of  its  corruptions,  pref  i  5.  205 

(see  Papists) 
Poverty,  God  who  quickeneth  and  arranges  all 
things,  ofien  leaves  his  best  servants 
in  indigence  and  want  i  180 

Prayer,  a  source  of  consolation  ii  152 

Preachers,  the  liberty  of  the  French  exiles  in 
that  respect  ii  84 

Preachers,  (the  primitive)  an  admirable  ad- 
vantage in  addressing  the  heathen 
and  tlie  Jews  i  197 

Predestination,  the  impossibility  of  explaining 
it;  but  God,  who  cannot  err, 
declares  that  he  offers  violence 
to  no  creature,  and  that  our 
destruction  proceeds  from  our- 
selves ii  116 
Princes  and  judges,  their  qualifications  ii  344 
Principle,  purity  of  principle  must  be  the  ba- 
sis of  all  our  conduct  ii  4 
Prophecy,  objections  against  it  answered;  its 
character  asserted          i  152,  &c. 
difficulties    of    affixing     a    literal 
meaning  to  the  i)roi)liecies  of  the 
Messiah  and  his  kingdom     i  183 
Prophecies  respecting  the  fall  of  Jerusalem 

ii  149 
Prophecies  respecting  Christ's  death,  accom- 
plished by  his  suflferings  169 
Prophets,  how  they  conducted  themselves  at 
courts                                         i  399 
Prophetic  eloquence,  its  superiority          i  379 
Professional  men,  the  conditions  of  their  sal- 
vation                                    ii  57 
Protestants  of  France  distinguished  by  their 
attendance    on    public    worship, 
and  on  the  days  of  communion 
i  167 
the  exiles  are  exhorted  to  pray  for 
the  restoration  of  their  churches 
ii  97 
the  faith  of  a  Protestant          256 
the  abject  situation  of  those  who 
remained  in  France              289 
an  address  to  French  Protestants 
368,  &c. 
tlie  care  of  Providence  over  them 
in  c.vilu                                 366 


Xll 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Proverbs  of  Solomon,  some  of  Ihnin  reconciled 
witli  his  assortions  in  liin   Kcclesi- 
astes  ii  69 

Providence,  asserted  i  "75 

complaints  against    it  answered 
382 
complaints    against    its    severity 
refuted  383 

the  doctrine  of  Providence  should 
operate  on  public  bodies  of 
men  392 

examples  of  Providence  over  na- 
tions 393 
mysteries  of  Providence  in  the 
succession  of  Henry  Vlllth  of 
England,  from  tlic  Roman  Pon- 
tiff; in  the  singular  success  of 
Zuinglius;  in   tho  courage   of 
Luther                               ii  102 
Christians  often  reason  ill  con- 
cerning Providence              338 
six  marks  of  God's  mercy  and 
care  of  good  men,  when  Jeru- 
salem was  destroyed    by   the 
Chaldeans                             368 
the  same  care  over  the  persecut- 
ed Protestant  exiles  ib. 
Providence  has,  after  one  hundred  years,  an- 
swered our   author's  question   in 
the  affirmative,  viz:  whether  the 
exile  of  the  Jews  and  that  of 
the  Protestants,  should  come  to 
a  similar  close                        369 
Pure  (the)  all  things  are  pure  to  them        ii  1 
Purgatory,  unsupported  by  scripture         ii  96 
Pyrrhonianism                                         ,  ii  359 

Q 

Quintus  Curtius,  his  prayer  before  Carthage 

169 

R 

Rabbins,  their  extraordinary  assumptions  over 
the  conscience  of  the  people      i  166 
Recapitulation  of  a  sermon,  fine  specimens  of  it 
i  342.  ii  172.  265 
Redemption,  the  harmony  of  the  divine  attri- 
butes in  tliis  work,  as  asserted 
Psal.  xi.  Ileb.  x.  6.  Mic.  vi.  6, 
7.  1  Cor.  ii.  9  i  96 

three   mysteries  of  redemption 
not  discovered  by  reason      ib. 
Redemption  of  the  soul  264 

Reformation,  the  necessity  of  it  iv 

the  Reformation  in  France — 
Charles  VI 11.  persecuted  the 
reformed  at  Home,  and  pro- 
tected them  in  Germany  vi 
it  very  mucli  increased  under 
Henry  II  vii 

the  house  of  Bourbon    declare 
for  the  reform,  and  tlie  house 
de  Guise  for  tlie  Catiiolics  ib. 
the  king  of  Navarre  allured  by 
new  promises,  desert  the  Pro- 
testant cause  ix 
but  tho  queen  of  Navarre  be- 
comes its  most  zealous  advo- 
cate                                     ib. 
the  duke  de  Guise  commences 
a  war  with  tho  Protestants, 
and  50,000  of  them  are  slain  x 


Reformation,  the  reformed  obtain  the  free  ex- 
ercise of  religion  ii. 
the   massacre  of  Paris  cruelly 
plotted  under  a  marriage  with 
Henry  of  Navarre  ib. 
Guise    attempts    to    dethrone 
Henry  III.  by  a  league        xi 
Henry  IV.  of  Navarre,  embraces 
popery,     and     ascends     the 
throne                                    xii 
the  edict  of  Nantes  ib. 
the  Jesuits  founded  by  Loyola, 
no  doubt  witii  good  intentions, 
at  first,  confounded  by  Riche- 
lieu with  the  Protestants  xiii 
Louis  XIII.  persecutes  the  Pro- 
testants by  Richelieu's  advice 
ib. 
the  final  revocation  of  tho  edict 
of  Nantes  xv 
the  horrors  and  the  exile  of  800, 
000  persons                         xvi 
this      persecution      uniformly 
charged  on  the  French  clergy; 
its  impolicy  exposed  in  forty 
arguments                         xvii 
the  glory  of  Louis  XIV.  waned 
from  that  period  ib. 
Regeneration,  character  of  it                   1315 
(see  Holiness) 
Its    nature    laid    down    in    a 
change  of  ideas,  a  change  of 
desires,  a  change  of  taste,  a 
change  of  hopes,  a  change 
of  pursuits                     ii  393 
its  necessity                           401 
the  necessity  of  regeneration 
demonstrated  by  the  genius 
of  religion,  the  wants  of  man, 
and  tlie  perfections  of  God  ib. 
Religion,  progressive  in  five  classes  of  argu- 
ments                               ii  13.  16 
its  evidences  were  stronger  to  the 
scripture  characters  than  to  us 
ii  181 
Repentance,  some  have  too  much  and  some 
too  little  sorrow  for  sin      i  97 
possibility  of  a  death  bed  repent- 
ance proved  by  six  arguments 
103 
difficulties  of  a  death  bed  repent- 
ance                                   104 
character  of  national  repentance 
110 
the  penitential  reflections  of  a 
sinner                                    113 
Repentance  of  a  godly  sort  has  sin  for  its  ob- 
ject                                      306 
it  is  augmented  by  reflecting  on 
the  number,  the  enormity,  and 
the  fatal  influence  of  sin      307 
exhortation  to  repentance       312 
Repentance  described                         372.  ii  43 
a  powerful  exhortation  to  repent- 
ance 6 1 
specimen  of  a  death  bed  repent- 
ance                                     114 
a  series  of  difficulties  attendant 
on  a  death  bed  repentance  247 
three  objections  answered       246 
two  prejudices  against  a  protract- 
ed repentance                    ,  268 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Repentance,  a  powerful  exhortation  to  repent- 
ance 2G9 
Reprobation  not  absolute;  but  may  bo  advert- 
ed                                        ii  IIG 
Restitution  rc(juired                                   i  3G3 
so  Judas  did                           ii  IM 
Resurrection  of  Clirist,  the  evidences  of  it  di- 
vided into  three  classes;  presump- 
tions, proofs,  demonstrations 
i  187 
.eight    considerations    give    full 
weight  to  the  evidence  of  the 
apostles                               188 
Christ's  resurrection  demonstrat- 
ed by  the  gifts  conferred  on 
the  apostles,  and  by  the  same 
gifts  which  they  conferred  on 
otiiers                                    189 
if  all  these  evidences  be  untrue, 
all  those  who  wrougiit  mira- 
cles must  bo  taxed  with  im- 
posture; all  the  enemies  of 
Christianity  must    be    taxed 
with  imbecility;  and  the  whole 
multitude    which     embraced 
Christianity,  must  be  blamed 
for  an  extravagance  unknown 
to  society                              190 
the  joy  of  Christ  justified  by  four 
considerations                      191 
presumptions,    proofs,     demon- 
strations of  it                   ii  175 
the  evidences  of  Christ's  resur- 
rection has  eight  distinct  cha- 
racters ib.  I 
the  faith  in  testimony  worthy  of 
credit,  is   distinguished    from 
the  faith  extorted  by  tyranny 
ib. 
from  the  faith  of  tlie  enthusiast 
176 
from  the  faith  of  superstition  177 
Resurrection  of  saints  at  Christ's  death      167 
the  resurrection  at  his  second 
coming                                 336 
Revelation  has  a  sufficiency  of  evidence  in  re- 
gard to  tho  five  classes  of  unbe- 
lievers                                 i  202 
its  doctrines  lie  within  the  reach 
of  the  narrowest  capacities    203 
it  was  gradually  conferred  accord- 
ing to  the  situation  and  capaci- 
ty of  tlie  ago                           344 
Revenge,  the  purpose  of  it  incompatible  with 
a  state  of  salvation                    i  356 
Rhetoric,  oriental                                      i  423 
Rich  man,  (the)  apparently  taxing  providence 
with    the    inadequacy    of   former 
means,  by  soliciting  a  new  mean 
for  the  conversion  of  his  brethren 
1201 
Riches  often  increase  profligacy                ii  19 
when  suddenly  acquired  they  almost 
turn  a  man's  brain                        346 
Righteous,  be  not  righteous  over-much      ii  7 
Righteousness,  the  word  explained          i  298 
it  exalteth  a  nation             389 
five  limits  of  the  expression, 
righteousness  or  religion  ex- 
alteth a  nation                   ih. 
it  promotes  every  object  of 
civil  society                      390 


Xiu 

Rome,  Christian,  her  cruelties  to  tho  Protes- 
tants i  240 
subterranean  Rome,  a  book  of  that 
title  ii  70 

Romans,  the  scope  of  the  epistle  to  them, 
stated  ii  99 

S 

Sabbath  day,  punishment  threatened  for  pro- 
faning it  ii  370 
the  difference  of  the  sabbath  with  re- 
gard to  the  Jews  and  the  Christians 
ib. 
the  origin  of  the  sabbath  to  demon- 
strate tiic  origin  of  the  world,  and 
that  (iod  was  its  creator  371 
to  prevent  idolatry  i/-. 
to  promote  humanity  il. 
to  equalize  all  men  in  devotion     3'  ,: 
the  change  of  the  sabbath  from  t 
seventh,  to   the  first  day  of  '.';^ 
week                                           3"  4 
reasons  why  the  sabbath  is  binding 
on  the  Christian  clmrch               ib. 
scandalous  profanation  of  the  snbl  ith 
in  Holland                           375,  àc. 
an  apostroi)hc  to  tho  poor  Protestants, 
who  profane  the  sabbath  in  ii^ysti- 
cal  Babylon                                 376 
Sacrament,  a  fine  invitation  to  it               i  85 
an  awful  charge  not  to  noeicot  it 
193 
believers  invited  to  it  witii  .i  view 
of  acquiring  streïigih  t.j  van- 
quish  Satan,  and  to  conquer 
deutli                                       228 
a  caution  to  participate  of  it  with 
sanctity                                   297 
it  is  often  profaned  by  temporiz- 
ing communicants               ii  85 
it  is  a  striking  obligation  to  holi- 
ness                                        172 
a  sacramental  address              190 
parallel  between  the  Lord's  table, 
and  the  table  of  shew  bread  in 
the  temple                              193 
it  is  polluted  by  tho  want  of  light, 
of  virtue,  and  of  religious  Ibr- 
vour                                         196 
strictures  on  a  precipitate  prepa- 
ration for  it                           198 
addresses  of  consolation  to  the  de- 
vout communicant                199 
God  is  present  at  tiie  sacrament 
as  on  mount  Sinai                303 
a  striking  address  to  those  who 
neglect  it                                  ib. 
it  is  a  covenant  with  God  301,  &.c. 
307,  &c. 
Sacred    writers,    their    talents,   which    God 
seems  to  have  conferred   as  though 
riches  and  power  were  too  mean 
to  give                                         i  65 
their  style  possessed  every  beauty  ib. 
they  delighted  to  absorb  their  soul  in 
the  contemplation  of  God          95 
Sacred  writings,  Saurin  had  an  elegant  me- 
thod of  quoting  'from  them,  as  is  ap- 
parent from                             ii  146 
difficulties  of  expounding  them      334 
Sacrifice?,  (see  atonement) 


XIV 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Sacrifices,  lliey  passed  between  the  parts  of 
llic  victims  ii  30G 

Sailors,  character  of  tlioir  repentance      ii  268 
Saints,  tiieir  employment  in  iieaven        ii  125 
the  sio;hts  presented  to  the  saints  after 
death  144 

they  have  siglied  for  immortality  and 
a  better  state  of  the  church         145 
their  happiness  in  heaven  in  regard  of 
knowledge  203 

of  propensity  205 

of  sensible  pleasure  206 

what  sentiments  the  ancient  saints  en- 
tertained of  themselves  when  under 
a  cloud  274 

danger  of  presumptive  thoughts    275 
there  is  a  similarity  between  us  and 
the  ancient  saints  in  five  respects 
281,  &c. 
their  high  vocation  282 

why  the  saints  arc  still  subject  to 
death  340 

tSaladin,  exposed    his  shroud    to  the   army 

i  263 
J 'Sanctification,  sin  of  opposing  it  ii  312 

(see  licgencration  and  Holiness) 
Satan,  his  victories  often  ruinous  to  his  king- 
dom i  76 
he  seeks  to  seduce  us  from  the  truth 
six  ways  142 
ho  assails  the  Christian  four  ways;  by 
the  illusive  maxims  of  the  world,  by 
the  pernicious  example  of  the  multi- 
tude, by  threatenings  and  persecu- 
tion, and  by  the  attractions  of  sensu- 
al pleasure  145 
hi»  pnwer  is  borrowed;  limited  in  dura- 
tion, in  degree;  and  whatever  desire 
In-  may  have  to  destroy  us,  it  cannot 
equal  the  desire  of  God  to  save  us 
227 
his  design  is  to  render  man  unlike  his 
Maker                                              332 
he  is  the  most  irregular  and  miserable 
of  all  beings                                     370 
Saturnalia  of  the  Romans,  its  origin       ii  372 
Saul,  the  king,  his  consecration  accompanied 
by  the  spirit                                      ii  391 
Saurin,  his  life,  born  at  Nismes,  escapes  with 
his  father  to  Geneva                i  xvii 
becomes  an    ensign  in   Lord  Gallo- 
way's regiment,  which  then  served 
in  Switzerland;  but  on  the  peace 
with  France  he  returned  to  his  stu- 
dies, and  preferred  the  ministry   ib. 
preaches  five  years  in  London       xviii 
character  of  his  preaching  ib. 
he  settles  at  the  Hague  ib. 
is  noticed  by  the  Princess  of  Wales, 
afterward  queen  Caroline,  to  whom 
his   son  dedicated   his  posthumous 
sermons  ib. 
his  ministry  was  attended  by  princes, 
magistrates,  generals  and  scientific 
men;  his  courage  in  reproving  386 
Schem,  (Rabbi)  his  contrast  between  the  tem- 
])lo  and  the  palaces  of  princes      i  193 
Schoolmen,  many  of  their  errors  proceeded 
from  monastic  habits,  illustrati-d 
by  the  doctrine  of  reprobation 
i  100 
Scripture  characters,  tlio  distinction  between 


their  momentary  defects,  and  their 

illustrious  virtues  ii  279 

Seal,  (see  Holy  Spirit)  ii  308 

Self-examination,  the  method  of  it  ii  186 

Simeon,  (Luke  ii.)  three  characters  of  his  piety 

ii  141 
Simeon  the  Pharisee,  four  defects  in  his  opi- 
nion of  Christ  ii  46 
Slander,  the  sinfulness  of  it                       1386 
Septuagint  version,  a  sketch  of  its  history  i  285 
Sinai,  its  terrors  expressive  of  our  Saviour's 
agony                                               ii  306 
Sin  and  its  punishment  arc  connected     ii  350 
the  folly  of  it  i  78 
its  effects  84 
its  atrocity  when  wilful                        354 
the  motives  to  sin  incomparably  weaker 
than  the  motives  to  virtue                 308 
little  sin  conducive  of  great  crimes      367 
the  apology  of  those  who  charge  sin  upon 
their  constitution,  not  admissible    ii  77 
Sin  causes  three  sorts  of  tears  to  be  shed    323 
the  sin  or  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost                                                 328 
the  sin  unto  death,  as  stated  by  St.  John 

329 
inquiry  concerning  this  sin  may  proceed 
from    the    melancholy,  the    timorous, 
and  the  wilful  apostates  330 

Sinner,  hardened  and  impenitent  i  208 

Sinners  abuse  the  long-sutiering  of  God,  in 
the  disposition  of  a  devil,  a  beast, 
a  philosopher  and  a  man  i  1 1 1 

they  reason  in  a  reproachful  manner 
in  regard  to  their  love  of  esteem, 
and  honour,  and  pleasure,  and  ab- 
horrence of  restraint  226 
Sinners  are  slaves  in  five  respects  269 
they  must  hve  to  expiate  their  crimes 

271 
they  must  glory  in  Christ  alone,  but 
add  watchfulness  to    their  future 
conduct  i  302 

Sinners  must  not  be  misguided  by  the  multi- 
tude ii  33 
their  complaints  of  the  severity  of 
God's  law,  refuted   in  five  argu- 
ments                                        i  38 1 
their  best  wisdom  is  to  avoid  the  ob- 
jects of  their  passions  ii  77 
the  aggravating  characters  of  their 
sin  122 
we  should  weep  for  them,  because  of 
our  connexions  with  them  124 
are  very  great  scourges  to  society  125 
Sinners  under  the  gospel,  ofibnd  against  supe- 
rior light                                            263 
against  superior  motives  ib. 
against  the  example  of  scripture  cha- 
racters, who  do  not  continue  in  sin 
till  tlic  end  of  life                        264 
against  the  virtues  of  those  converts  ib. 
and  sinners  who  delay  conversion  to 
the  close  of  life  cannot  adduce  equal 
cvideijcc  of  their  conversion       265 
Smuggling  and  defrauding  the  revenue,  cen- 
sured                                      i  355 
Society  cannot  subsist  without  religion,  de- 
monstrated in  five  argmnents      i  230 
the  transition  of  society  from  simpli- 
city of  manners,  to  a  stylo  of  living 
injurious  to  charily                   421 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


XV 


Socinius,  his  system  refuted  ii  102 

Sodom,  its  abominable  sin  a  proof  of  God's 
long-sufluring  i  '07 

Soldiers  reproved  i  "JS 

Solomon,  his  great  wisdom  when  a  child  ii  342 
his  dream  in  Gibcon  ib. 

liis  recollection  of  past  mercies  343 
the  aspect  under  which  ho  considers 
the  regal  dignity  ib. 

conjecture  concerning  his  age  when 
called  to  the  throne  344 

his  preference  of  wisdom  to  wealth 
345,  &c. 
his  fall  demonstrates  the  difficul- 
ties attendant  on  splendid  talent 
346 
the  dangers  of  bad  company         ib. 
the  dangers  of  human  grandeur   ib. 
the  beguiling  charms  of  pleasure 
347 
his  situation  and  experience  quali- 
fied him  to  be  a  moralist  62 
he  introduces  difterent  speakers  into 
his  book  of  Ecclesiastes,  as  the 
epicure,  the  fool,  &c.  which  ac- 
count for  the  dissonance  of  senti- 
ments in  that  book  65 
his  hatred  of  life  explained           ib. 
two  classes  of  phantoms  seduced  his 
generous  heart  67 
absurdities  of  the  schoolmen  con- 
cerning his  wisdom                    ib. 
Son,  Christ  the  essential  and  eternal        i  277 
"-^Tow,  six  effects  of  godly  sorrow             309 
*-»  «orrow  like  that  of  the  disciples  for 
their  master                             ii  151 
Sorrow  allowed  for  the  death  of  friends     337 
^o'll,  (the)  its  excellence  inferred  from  the 
efforts  of  Satan  to  enslave  it        i  148 
lis  i....„„.«._n4.j.  u-r-a  vy  me  heathens, 
and  asserted  by  the  gospel             216 
its  intelligence   asserted   in  five  argu- 
ments                                              259 
its  immortality  demonstrated            261 
its  value  inferred  from  the  price  of  re- 
demption                                        263 
the  partisans  for  the  sleeping  and  anni- 
hilation of  the  soul,  refuted            335 
its  essence,  operations  and  miion  with 
the  body,  inscrutable                    ii  101 
its  immortality  farther  and  strongly  pre- 
sumed                                             214 
an  immortal  spirit  should  have  but  a 
transient  regard  for  transient  good  215 
Spinoza,  the  absurdities  of  the  system  he  re- 
vived                                            i  66 
Spirit,  a  doubt  whether  all  that  is  in  the  uni- 
verse be  reducible  to  matter  and  spirit 

i  73 
Statesmen  reproved  i  75 

amenable  to  the  divine  laws  377 
Stoical  obstinacy,  a  specimen  of  it  in  Zeno  ii  56 
Study,  its  difficulties  for  want  of  means  ii  67 
Swearing,  the  sinfulness  of  it  i  407 

Superstitious  conclusions,  caveats  against  them 

*     ii  350 
details  4 1 9 

Supralapsarians,  censured  for  denying  salva- 
tion to  sincere  heathens 
i  219 
their  system  refuted  in  five 
argumenta  ii  105 


Table  (the)  of  the  Lord,  Mai.  i.  6,  7.     ii  192 
the  table  of  shew  bread,  &c.  193 

Talmud  of  tiie  Jews,  and  the  Romish  missals 
compared  i  164 

Teachers  are  of  three  classes  i  44 

caution  in  the  choice  of  teachers    ib. 
parents  warned  not  to  train  unre- 
generate  children  for  the  minis- 
try 46 
the  policy  of  some  tenet  teachers  in 
Galatia                                   ii  219 
Temptations,  the  ancient  saints  resembled  us 
in  these                    ii  282.  287 
a  double  shield  against  tempta- 
«ons                                   290 
six  temptations  from  infancy  to 
old  age  ib. 
Terror,  the  utility  of  preaching  it;  an  augur 
of  what  sort  of  sermons  the  apostles 
would  make,  were  they  to  see  our 
lives                                           i  198 
it  promotes  repentance  by  the  uncer- 
tainty of  salvation                       308 
Tertullian's  avowal  of  the  Godhead  of  Christ 

1280 

The  Holy  Spirit  superior  in  his  operations  to 

the  suggestions  of  Satan  i  227 

his  aids  are  promised  to  the  ministry,  &c. 

291 
the  higher  endowments  of  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit, were  restored  on  the  coming  of  the 
Messiah  ii  143 

he  requires  men  to  correspond  with  the 
efforts  of  grace  in  their  conversion  253 
the  anointing,  the  seal,  and  earnest  of  the 
Spirit  308 

nis  agency  on  the  heart  310 

he  communicates  the  foretastes  of  heaven 

Ibiet  on  the  cross,  his  case  strikingly  illus- 
trated ii  264 
Thomas,  the  difference  of  his  faith  from  ours 

1  ime  lost,  or  misapproved  ii  2 1 1 

much  of  our  time  is  lost  in  lassitude  213 

and  in  the  cares  of  this  life  214 

Timothy,  St.  Paul's  love  to  him  i  179 

Tithes  of  three  kinds  1358 

Tongues,  the  gift  of  tongues  on  the  day  of 

Pentecost,  had  three   excellencies 

Transubstantiation,  its  absurdities  167 

it    is   admirably    refuted 

nn  .  .         ,  191 

Trmity,  the  personality  of  the  Father,  Son, 

and  Holy  Spirit,  asserted  in  refuta- 
tion of  Arianism     ii  309,  &c.  i  90 
Trinity,  demonstrated  by  Philo  i  222 

the    doctrine  stated,  and    defended 
ii  357.  394 
advantages  of  this  doctrine  359 

Truths,  their  connexion  is  a  high  ar<mment 
in  favour  of  revelation  i  42 

this  connexion  should  induce  minis- 
ters to  pursue  a  regular  system    44 
Pilate's  question.  What  is  truth?  132 
it  might  refer  to  the  IVIcssiah,  or  to 
the     truth    which    tho     heathens 
sought  182 

truth  defiaed,  aud  its  price  133 


XVI 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Truth,  seven  rules  to  direct  our  researches 
after  truth  134 

prejudices  are  hij^hly  obstructive  in 
the  acquisition  of  truth  136 

the  word  of  truth  exemplified  in  the 
pleasure  it  affords  in  «jualifying  us 
to  fill  our  stations  in  life,  in  exempt- 
ing us  from  unreasonable  doubts, 
in  fortifying  us  against  the  ap- 
proaclics  of  death  138 

the  radiance  of  truth  is  superior  to 
the  glimmerings  of  error  224 

Bell  not  the  truth;  that  is,  do  not  lose 
the  aptitude  of  the  mind  to  truth 
236 
do  not  make  a  mercenary  use  of  it 
•  237 

do  not  betray  it  ib. 

this  may  be  done  by  the  adulation  of 
a  courtier  ib. 

by  the  zealot  who  defends  a  point 
with  specious  arguments  238 

by  apostacy  or  by  temporizing      239 
by  perverting  judgment  in  five  re- 
spects 24 1 
by  tergiversation  in  politics           242 
by  withholding  reproof  in  the  pulpit, 
in  private,  and  in  visits  to  the  siclt 
243 
Truths  which  have  a  high  degree  of  evidence, 
should  be  admitted  as  demonstrated 
ii361 
Tyrants,   their  conduct    in  persecuting  the 
churcli                                     i  176 
they  are  justly  censured               322 
they  are  deaf  to  tiie  glory  of  oppres- 
sion                                           ii  30 
reflections  for  a  tyrant  and  infidel 


u 

Unbeliever,  (the)  his  taste,  which  is  low  and 
brutish  i  229 

his  polities  disturb  society        230 
his  indocile  and  haughty  temper 
231 
his  unfounded  logic  232 

his  consequent  line  of  morals  233 
his    efforts    to    extinguish    con- 
science 234 
he  piques  himself  on  politeness, 
wliich    is    applauded    by    tiic 
world:  yet  an  apology  may  be 
made  for  the  unbeliever,  wiiich 
cannot  be  made  for  the  man 
wiio  holds  tlio  trutli  in  sin     ib. 
Unbelievers,   tiieir   demands  of  fartiier  evi- 
dence unreasonable  235 
they  are  divided  into  five  classes 
202 
their  folly  in  asking  a  new  mi- 
racle 207 
an   unbeliever  dying  in  uncer- 
tainty, pathetically  described 
210 
Union  of  children  with  the  sin  of  their  fathers 
in  four  respects                               i  109 
Unpardonable  sin  against  the   Holy  Ghost, 
o|)ini()ns  concerning  it      ii  327 
Unrcgoncratc,  (llie)  faithfully  warned     i  104 
a  serious  addre^  to  them  ii  292 


Upright,  (the)  their  praise  is  wise,  real,  hiun" 
ble  and  magnanimous  i  130 


Vanini,  an  avowed  Atheist,  burnt  at  Toulouse 
by  sentence  of  rarliament  ii  100 

Vanity  of  opposing  God,  in  four  respects  ii  53 
a  caution  against  opposing  God        67 
Victims,  ten  imperfections  of  them  in  the  au- 
thor's dissertations  ii  192 
Veil,  in  tiie  temple  rent                           ii  166 
Virgin  Mary,  intercession  of                   ii  420 
Virtue,  the  motives  to  it  are  superior  to  the 
motives  to  vice  i  226 
five  characters  of  the  superior  virtues 

369 
Virtues  of  eternal  obhgation,  as  charity,  &c. 
are  of  greater  weight  than  temporary 
virtues  360 

the  object  of  virtues  vary  their  im- 
portance 361 
it  is  the  same  with  regard  to  the  in- 
fluence of  virtues  ib. 
the  end  and  design  of  virtues  aug- 
ment their  importance               362 
the  virtues  of  worldly  men  are  very 
defective                                    ii  31 
the  virtues  of  carnal  men  are  often 
but  the  tinsel  of  their  crimes        32 
complaints  on  tiie  inipotency  of  men 
to  practice  virtue,  answered  in  four 
respects                                119,  &c. 
every  virtue  exhibited  in  the  death  of 
Clirist                                       ,  '."^ 
hannoiiy  between  Jiaupmess  and  vir- 
tue                                              350 
Vision,  the  beatific                             i  327,  &<> 
Vninn  of  the  rod                                            "  ^,1' 
Voorburgh,  the  we<^i.î..^  — a  -.i_:-;..g  at  me 
consecration  of  the  French  church 
iiS63 

w 

War,  a  reference  to  Louis  XlVth,  and  others 

i322 
its  deplorable  effects  i  396.  ii  89 

Ways  of  God,  ways  of  light,  justice  and  com- 
passion ii  412 
Ways  of  men,  ways  of  darkness,  blasphemy 
and  despair                                    ii  412 
Whiston  censured  for  obtruding  the  apostoli- 
cal constitutions  as  genuine       i  279 
Will,  the  ditference  between  the  efliciency  of 
the  Creator's  and  the  creature's  will 
i  120 
the  perfection  of  the  will  and  sensibility 

1260 
Wisdom  of  the  world,  and  the  foolishness  of 
God  explained  1212 

St.  Paul's  divine  wisdom  in  the  se- 
lection of  arguments,  when  writ- 
ing to  the  Hebrews  282 
Witness  of  tlie  Spirit,  (the  direct)            i  317 
Bee  Assiu-ancc,  and                     ii  188 
see  also  a  note  by  the  translators  386 
Woman,  tlie  unchaste                                ii  43 
she  is  distinguished  from  Mary  of 
Bethany,  and  from  Mary  Magda- 
lene >*• 
lier  repontanco  liad  four  characters  i*. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


XVll 


Woman,  a  disputation  whether  her  love  was 
the  cause  or  the  effect  of  her  par- 
don 48 
Wood,  hay  and  stubble,  are  expressive  of 
light  doctrines                                ii  97 
World,  the  vanity  of  tlie                             i  54 
its  insufficiency  to  satisfy  the  soul  147 
this  world  is  not  the  place  of  felicity 

179 
its  draws  us  off  from  truth  and  virtue 
428 
vanity"  of  worldly  policy  in  attempt- 
ing to  povern  nations  by  the  max- 
ims of  infidelity,  rather  than  those 
of  religion  ii  54 

the  instability  of  all  worldly  good  62 
the  Christian  is  crucified  to  the  world 

220 
the  degrees  and  difficulties  of  it    221 


Worldly  minded  men  faithfully  warned  i  263. 

ii  163 
Whether  the  apostles  were  ignorant  of  their 
living  to  the  end  of  the  world  336 
excellence  of  the  world  to  come  i  55 
Works,  good  works  cannot  merit  heaven  i  300 
good  works  must  of  necessity  be  con- 
nected with  faith  as  the  fruits      ib. 
five  objections  to  the  contrary,  ably 
answered  301 

Wormwood  and  gall,  a  metaphor  ii  305 

z 

Zacharias,  son  of  Barachiah  or  Jehoida,  the 

high  priest,  with  other  conjectures 

i  108 

Zeal  exemplified  from  prophets  ii  37 

ZuingliuB,  (Suingle)  the  Swiss  reformer  ii  102 


VALUABLE  WORKS, 

PUBLISHED    BY 

PLASZITT  fo  aO. 

JVo»  2549  •Iflurkct  street^  BtiUitnore» 


THE  WORKS  OF  FLAVIUS  JORE- 
PHUS,  the  learned  and  authentic  Jewish 
historian  and  celebrated  warrior,  contain- 
ing twenty  books  of  the  Jewish  Antiqui- 
ties, seven  books  of  the  Jewish  War,  and 
the  Life  of  Josephus,  written  by  himself, 
translated  from  tlie  original  Greek,  ac- 
cording to  Ilavcrcamp's  accurate  edition; 
together  with  explanatory  notes  and  ob- 
servations. By  the  late  William  Whis- 
ton,  A.  M.from  the  last  London  Edition, 
complete  in  1  vol.  8vo.  the  cheapest  edi- 
tion ever  published. 

"This  history  is  spoken  of  in  the  high- 
est terms  by  men  of  the  greatest  learn- 
ing and  the  soundest  judgment,  from  its 
first  publication  to  the  present  time. 

Bishop  Porteus." 

The  above  work  is  for  sale  at  all  the 
principal  Bookstores  in  the  United  States, 
and  by  country  merchants  generally,  at 
a  very  low  price. 

SAURIN'S  SERMONS,  a  new  and 

beautiful  edition,  on  superfine  paper,  with 
aportraitby  Longacre  onsteel,2vols.8vo. 
from  the  last  London  edition.  Edited  by 
Rev.  Saml.  Burder,  A.  M. 

"To  those  who  value  the  great  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  these  volumes  can- 
not but  prove  highly  acceptable;  nor  can 
they  fail  of  making  a  due  impression  on 
the  mind,  by  the  forcible  and  elegant 
manner  in  which  they  exhibit  truth  and 
holiness." 

POLYGLOTT  REFERENCE  BI- 
BLE, pocket  edition,  furnished  in  sheep, 
calf,  calf  e.xlra,  pocket  book  form,  and 
super  calf  and  morocco  gilt  bindings, 
with  and  without  psalms. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  PREFACE. 

The  publishers  have  spared  no  pains  or 
expense  to  enhance  the  value  of  their 
Pocket  Edition  of  this  invaluable  work. 
In  order  to  render  it  even  more  accepta- 
ble than  the  English  edition,  they  have 
caused  to  be  inserted  brief  headings  to  all 
the  cfiapter. 1,  and  have  incorporated  other 
additions,  calculated  to  increase  its  utili- 
ty, and  greatly  facilitate  the  researches 
of  the  Student  of  Biblical  Literature. 
Some  of  these  they  would  briefly  parti- 
cularize before  passing  to  those  more  ge- 
neral considerations  wiiich  strongly  re- 
commend their  work  to  the  preference  of 
the  reader.    Among  them  are: 

The  Discourses  of  the  Saviour,  arrang- 
ed in  Chronological  order; 


The  Parables,  in  the  same  order;  and 
also  the  Miracles; 

A  concise  Harmony  of  the  Gospels; 

The  Scripture  Proper  Names,  with 
their  significations; 

A  Table  of  Contents  of  the  Books  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments; 

A  Table  of  the  Offices  and  Conditions 
of  Men; 

Proper  Lessons  for  Public  Worship  on 
Sunday  Mornings  throughout  the  year; 
and 

Tables  of  Weights  and  Measures. 

To  secure  the  greatest  possible  accu- 
racy, faithful  persons,  well  conversant 
with  the  Scriptures,  but  otherwise  uncon- 
nected with  the  Work,  were  employed 
diligently  to  examine  every  Reference 
after  the  Printer's  revisions  had  been 
completed,  that  the  labor  and  design  of 
the  publishers  might  not  be  frustrated  by 
any  accidental  oversight  or  mistake  of 
the  compositor,  or  of  the  correctors  of  the 
press. 

This  part  of  the  Work,  viewing  the 
whole  together,  forms  a  body  of  illustra- 
tions of  Scripture,  exceeding  in  number 
sixty  thousand  References,  to  complete  the 
compilation  of  which  has  occupied  between 
three  and  four  years. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Home,  in  his  "Introduc- 
tion to  the  Critical  Study  and  Knowledge 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures,"  a  work  of  gene- 
ral and  standard  authority,  speaks  of  this 
Polyglott  Bible  in  terms  of  high  commen- 
dation; the  "selection  of  parallel  texts," 
he  pronounces  "new  and  valuable,"  and 
particularly  describes  the  whole  work  on 
account  of  its  intrinsic  value  and  utihty." 

Baltimore,  Oct.  24,  183L 
J\Iessrs.  Armstrong  &;  Plaskitt: 

The  beautiful  edition  of  the  English 
version  of  the  Polyglott  Bible,  which  you 
put  into  my  hands,  I  have  examined  as  far 
as  my  numerous  engagements  would  al- 
low, and  hail  its  publication  with  peculiar 
pleasure,  as  supplying  what  has  hitherto 
been  a  "desideratum  in  American  Book- 
stores." It  has  been  very  uncommon,  of 
late  years,  to  find  on  sale,  a  Bible  of  coi>- 
venient  size,  containing  the  headings  of 
the  chapters,  and  the  marginal  readingt 
of  the  English  translators,  although  these 
constitute  no  unimportant  part  of  the  fruit 
of  their  labors.  This  edition  not  only 
supplies  that  defect,  but  also  furnisbcB 
copious  marginal  references,  which  arft 


valuable  auxiliaries  to  the  student  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  make  the  Bible  its  own 
interpreter. 

Tlic  well  written  Preface^  the  Chrono- 
logical arrann^ement  of  our  Lord's  discour- 
ses, parables  and  miracles,  the  concise 
harmony  of  the  gospels,  and  the  Table  of 
Contents  of  the  books  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  together  with  the  meaning 
and  pronunciation  of  Scripture  proper 
names,  render  this  altogether  more  valua- 
ble than  any  pocket  edition  of  the  Sacred 
Volume  that  has  ever  fallen  under  my 
notice. 

The  careful  study  of  it  cannot  fail 
greatly  to  facilitate  the  labors  of  the 
teachers  and  members  of  Bible  Classes  in 
our  Sunday  Schools,  and,  in  my  humble 
judgment,  it  would  prove  a  most  valuable 
treasure  to  every  private  christian  who 
wishes  to  read  the  Scriptures  with  an  un- 
derstanding heart. 

J.  P.  K.  Henshaw, 
Rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church. 

Baltimore,  Oct.  31,  1831. 
Messrs,  Armstrong  Sç  Plaskitt: 

It  affords  me  pleasure  to  express  to 
you,  my  entire  concurrence  in  the  opinion 
given  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Henshaw,  res- 
pecting the  importance  of  your  edition  of 
the  Polyglott  Bible.  My  heart  is  made 
glad,  when  I  see  any  new  instrument 
which  promises  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  human  mind  to  the  volume  of  In- 
spiration. I  pray  God  to  make  your  ef- 
forts abundantly  prosperous. 

John  Finlat, 
Pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church. 

Baltimore,  Nov.  12,  1831. 
Jïïetsrs.  Armstrong  Sç  Plaskitt: 

I  have  examined  the  Pocket  Reference 
Bible,  from  the  English  version  of  the 
Polyglott  Bible,  published  by  you,  and  do 
verily  believe  it  to  be  the  most  complete 
Pocket  Bible  ever  published  in  this  coun- 
try. 

It  is  remarkably  small  in  bulk,  and  yet 
the  type  is  plain,  and  easily  read.  Upon 
comparing  a  number  of  the  marginal 
readings,  I  find  them  judicious,  and  well 
calculated  to  throw  light  upon  those  pas- 
sages, which,  for  the  want  of  a  change 
in  a  word  or  in  the'  language,  are  often 
doubtful  or  obscure.  The  obscurity  is  re- 
moved frequently  by  the  short  marginal 
readings  which  may  indeed  be  consider- 
ed short  commentaries.  The  references 
to  parallel  texts,  are  judicious,  and  hap- 
pily tend  to  illustrate  the  Script 'res,  by 
placing  in  a  clear  light  all  the  conditions 
of  the  subject  before  the  biblical  student, 
or  even  the  common  reader.  It  has  been 
well  said,  that  the  surest  guide  to  a  correct 
understanding  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  it, 
a  proper  comparison  of  Scripture  with 
Scripture.    By  these  references  to  paral- 


lel texts,  the  reader  is  enabled  to  make 
this  comparison  with  facility.  The  Ta- 
bles found  in  tliis  Pocket  Bible  are  also 
of  great  value  to  the  reader.  Those 
which  contain  the  contents  of  the  differ- 
ent books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments are  well  calculated  to  guide  the 
inquirer  immediately  to  the  subject  which 
he  wishes  to  examine.  The  table  of  "of- 
fices and  conditions  of  men,"  which  are 
mentioned  in  the  Scriptures,  is  of  great 
service,  and  the  information  they  convey 
is  absolutely  necessary  in  some  cases,  to 
an  understanding  of  the  Scriptures  in 
which  they  occur.  But  I  regard  the  list 
of  "proper  names,  with  their  significa- 
tions," as  of  vast  consequence.  These 
proper  names  contain  the  historical  ele- 
ments of  a  great  portion  of  that  part  of 
the  Scriptures  in  which  they  are  found. 
They  are,  in  fact,  the  keys  to  the  grand 
and  radical  events,  which  gave  rise  to 
them.  For  instance:  the  "Father  of  the 
faithful  was  first  called  Abram,  or  high 
father:  but  when  God  declared  to  him  he 
should  be  the  father  of  many  nations,  he 
changed  his  name  to  Abraham,  the  father 
of  a  multitude."  So  with  Jacob:  he  de- 
rived his  name  from  having  supplanted  his 
brother  Esau.  But  when  he  showed  ex- 
traordinary power  with  God  in  prayer, 
his  name  was  changed  to  Israel,  which 
indicates  that  he  possessed  such  power. 
Finally,  for  the  general  dispersion  of 
Scripture  knowledge,  I  could  wish  a  copy 
of  this  Pocket  Bible  in  the  possession  of 
everyone.  J.P.  Durein, 

Professor  of    J^atural  Science    Wet. 
University. 

Baltimore,  Dec.  17,  18SI. 
J)Iessrs.  Armstrong  S;  Plaskitt: 

I  have  examined  your  pocket  edition  of 
the  English  version  of  the  Polyglott  Bi- 
ble, and  take  pleasure  in  assuring  you  of 
the  gratification  it  afforded  me  to  find 
that  you  have  succeeded  so  well  in  fur- 
nishing various  and  veiy  important  helps 
to  the  study  of  the  Bible,  without  incon- 
veniently crowding  the  pages  or  enlarg- 
ing the  size  of  the  volume.  A  single 
glance  will  be  sufficient  to  satisfy  any  one, 
that  the  Compilers  of  this  work  were  fa- 
miliar with  the  apparatus,  and  understood 
the  arrangement  which  would  contribute 
to  the  satisfaction  and  comfort  of  those 
who  are  disposed  to  search  the  Scrip- 
tures. 

Every  page  in  your  edition  presents  to 
the  eye  of  the  reader,  the  text  of  the 
standard  English  version  and  its  marginal 
readings,  divided  as  usual  into  chapters 
and  verses.  Each  column  is  headed  by 
the  date  of  the  facts  which  it  relates. 
Each  chapter  has  its  concise  caption;  and 
every  verse  which  needs  it,  is  furnished 
with  references  to  parallel  and  illustra- 
tive passages. 


•2  2  s  ^ 
s  :s  -c:  -^ 

■«       Si,  2 


The  chronological  tables,  the  explana- 
tion of  proper  names,  the  harmony  of  the 
gospel,  &.C.  form  very  valuable  additions 
to  the  volume.  The  addition  is  certainly 
well  designed  for  the  particular  purpose 
which  you  have  in  view;  for  the  use  of 
Bible  Classes  and  Sunday  Schools.  It 
must  also  prove  an  acceptable  Manual  to 
all  who  love  "to  search  the  Scriptures 
daily."        Yours,  respectfully, 

J.  Johns, 
■  Rector  of  Christ  Church. 

Baltimore,  Feb.  1,  1832. 
Jilessrs.  Armstrong  Sf  Plaskitt: 

After  an  examination  of  the  Polyglott 
Pocket  Bible,  published  by  you,  we  cheer- 
fully declare  our  cordial  concurrence  in 
the  preceding  recommendations  of  the 
reverend  gentlemen  who  so  strongly  tes- 
tify of  its  merits.  We  think  its  claims  far 
superior  to  those  of  any  other  with  which 
we  are  acquainted,  and  earnestly  hope, 
that  the  assiduity  and  accuracy  displayed 
in  the  publication,  will  be  justly  appreci- 
ated by  all  who  revere  the  Scriptures  as 
a  record  of  the  divine  will. 

Marmaduke  Pearce,  " 

Stephen  G.  Roszel, 

Joseph  Frye, 

Henry  Furlong, 

John  C.  Lyon, 

James  Sanks, 

John  Bear, 

John  Poisal,  J 

KIRKHAM'S  GRAMMAR. 

"The  work  of  Mr.  Kirkham  on  gram- 
mar, is  well  calculated  to  remedy  these 
evils,  and  supply  a  deficiency  which  has 
been  so  long  and  so  seriously  felt  in  the  im- 
perfect education  of  youth  in  the  elemen- 
tary knowledge  of  their  own  language. 
By  a  simple,  familiar,  and  lucid  method  of 
treating  the  subject,  he  has  rendered  what 
was    before    irksome   and   unprofitable, 
pleasing  and  instructive.     In  one  word, 
the  grammar  of  Mr.  Kirkham  furnishes  a 
clew  by  which  the  youthful  mind  is  guid- 
ed   through   the   intricate   labyrinth   of 
verbs,  nouns,  and  pronouns;  and  the  path 
which  has  been  heretofore  so  difiicult  and 
uninviting,  as  to  dampen  the  ardour  of 
youth,  and  waste  their  energies  in  fruit- 
less attempts  to  surmount  its  obstacles,  is 
cleared  of  these  obstructions  by  this  pi- 
oneer to  the  youthful  mind,  and  planted, 
at  every  turn,  with  friendly  guide-boards 
to  direct  them  in  the  right  road.     The 
slightest  perusal  of  the  work  alluded  to, 
will  convince  even  the  most  skeptical  of 
the  truth  of  these  remarks,  and  satisfy 
every  one  who  is  not  wedded  by  prejudice 
to  old  rules  and  forms,  that  it  will  meet 
the  wants  of  the  community." 

RANDOLPH'S  ARITHMETIC. 
PIOUS  SONGS  or  CAMP  MEET- 
ING HYMNS. 


.        Ci,  3 


PIOUS  SONGS,  now  edition,  great- 
ly improved,  contnining  many  new  and 
popular  Hymns. 

KEY  TO  KNOWLEDGE. 

UNITED  STATES  READERS,  ], 
2,  and  3. 

"These  are  the  titles  of  three  very 
good  compilations,  recently  published  by 
Plaskitt  &  Co.  Baltimore.  The  1st 
and  2d  are  intended  for  children  who 
have  just  got  through  the  alphabet,  and 
the  lessons  are  of  course  progressive,  and 
adapted  to  their  early  capacities.  The 
third  is  similar  in  its  plan  to  the  English 
Reader;  but  its  selections  are  not  confin- 
ed to  European  authors,  as  are  those  of 
that  excellent  work;  being  made  up  in 
good  part  from  the  writings  of  Jefferson, 
D wight,  Dennie,  Webster,  Wirt,  Irving, 
Percival,  and  other  distinguished  Ame- 
ricans." 

Baltimore,  Sept.  6th,  1831. 
After  a  careful  examination  of  "The 
United  States  Reader,"  a  revised  and  im- 
proved edition  of  which  has  been  recent- 
ly published  by  Plaskitt  &  Co.  of  this 
city,  I  take  pleasure  in  recommending  it 
to  the  favorable  notice  of  those  who  are 
engaged  in  teaching.    The  three  volumes 
of  this  work  are  respectfully  adapted  to 
scholars  in  the  several  stages  of  advance- 
ment.    The    1st  and  2d  volumes  com- 
prise easy  reading  lessons;  in  which  im- 
portant moral  and  religious  instruction  is 
blended  with  amusing  anecdotes,  inter- 
esting descriptions  of  natural  scenery  and 
judicious  extracts  from  the  most  popular 
works  on  natural  jiistory.     The  last  vo- 
lume contains  a  selection  of  the  finest  spe- 
cimens of  composition,  from  the  most  ap- 
proved English  and  American  writers, 
well  calculated  to  form  the  judgment,  to 
improve  the  taste,  and  to  produce  impres- 
sions favorable  to  patriotism,  virtue  and 
piety.  John  Prentiss. 

We  cordially  agree  with  the  above 
opinion  relative  to  the  Readers  in  ques- 
tion. W.  H.  COFEIN, 

Principal  of  the  Public  School,  JVo.  3. 

Thos.  Bassford, 
Principal  of  J\Iale  Free  School  of  Bait. 
S.W.&  S.A.  Roszel. 
v.  r.  osborn. 
Richard  Kemp, 
Teacher  of  St.  Peter's  School. 

To  Messrs.  Plaskitt  &,  Co. 

Gentlemen, — Having  perused  your  Uni- 
ted States  Reader,  and  used  it  in  school, 
I  can  cheerfully  recommend  it  to  parents 
as  a  book  well  calculated  to  facilitate 
children  in  the  art  of  reading;  being 
highly  pleasing  and  instructing. 

Yours,  respectfully,    John  Haslett, 
Late  Teacher  of  Oliver  Hibernian  Free 

School. 
Baltimore,  Sept.  9,1031. 


THE  ALPHABET,  or  Juvenile  Spell- 
ing Book,  No.  1. 

THE  UNITED  STATES  PRIM- 
ER, or  Juvenile  Spelling  Book,  No.  2. 

THE  NEW  PRIMER. 

COBBS  SPELLING  BOOK. 

COBB'S  PRIMER,  or  First  Book. 

SYLLABICAL  SPELLING  BOOK, 

by  William  Mulkey. 

Baltimore,  JIarj  20,  1831. 

The  subscribers  having  become,  in  a 
measure,  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Wil- 
liam Mulkey's  new  method  of  teaching 
the  orthoepy  of  the  English  language,  as 
contained  in  his  "Syllabical  Spelling 
Book,"  and  as  explained  in  his  lectures 
delivered  in  this  city,  are  of  opinion  that 
it  is  ingenious  and  useful,  and  worthy  of 
being  adopted  in  all  schools  and  semina- 
ries in  which  pupils  are  instructed  in  the 
rudiments  of  our  mother  tongue.  The 
system  consists  in  a  judicious  compilation 
and  arrangement  of  the  general  rules  for 
distinguishing  the  sounds  of  all  the  let- 
ters of  the  alphabet  in  the  different  com- 
binations in  which  they  may  be  used  in 
syllables  and  words,  and  also  the  rules  of 
syllabication  and  accentuation,  founded 
upon  nature  and  custom. 

The  profiles  of  heads  placed  in  con- 
nexion with  a  classification  of  the  letters, 
for  the  purpose  of  teaciiing  the  distinc- 
tions of  their  sounds,  according  to  their 
organic  formation,  as  labials,  dentals, 
Sçc.  are  a  happy  invention,  admirably  cal- 
culated to  rivet  the  wavering  attention 
of  children,  and  to  imprint  strongly  upon 
their  memories,  important  elementary 
principles  of  speech. 

Wm.  H.  Coffin, 
Samuel  Baker,  M.  D. 
Thomas  Bassford, 
Tiios.  E.  Bond,  M.  D. 
G.  Bennett, 
A.  Clarke, 
Edward  Hinkley, 
Frederick  Hall. 

E.  L.   FlNLEY, 

James  F.  Gould, 
J.  D.  Learned, 
Alcœus  B.  Wolfe, 
Nathl.  N.  Ibbetson, 
Francis  Waters, 
S.  W,RoszEL,M.  D. 

S.  A.   ROSZEL, 

D.  B.  Prince, 
Jas.  II.  Clarke, 
Wm.  Prentiss, 
Saml.  Kirkham, 
John  Prentiss, 
V.  R.  Osborn, 
S.  Clarke. 


BURHAN'S  NOMENCLATURE. 

ROBINSON  CRUSOE. 

SPELLER  AND  DEFINER,  by  Ha- 
zen. 

SYMBOLICAL  PRIMER,  No.  1  and 
2,  by  Hazen. 

MURRAY'S  READERS. 

GRAMMARS. 

WORCESTERS  FIRST  BOOK 
OF  GEOGRAPHY. 

SERMONS  AND  PLANS  OF  SER- 
MONS, by  the  late  Rev.  Joseph  Benson, 
7  vols.  12mo. 

DAVID  S  HARP. 

DARBY'S  LECTURES  ON  AME- 
RICA. 

A  SELECTION  OF  HYMNS. 

A  SELECTION  OF  HYMNS,  for 
Social  Meetings,  Concert  of  Prayer,  &c. 
by  the  Rev.  J.  P.  K.  Henshaw,  D.  D. 

STUDENT'S  WALK,  or  a  Sabbath 
in  the  country,  half  bound  morocco. 

ALLIENE  ON  THE  PROMISES, 

bound. 

Do.  do.  do.        cloth. 

LIFE    OF    HENRY    LONGDEN, 

bound. 

MEMOIRS  OF  JANE  SECKER- 
SON,  by  her  father. 

MEMOIRS  OF  MARY  SECKER- 
SON. 
NOONDAY  VISION. 
CATHERINE  WARDEN. 
ELIZA  NARES. 
BIBLE  BOY. 
EARLY  PIETY. 

WILLIAM  ROBINSON,  or  the  Sun- 
day School  Teacher's  Death  Bed. 

PETER  AND  SUSAN— LIFE  OP 
POOR  SARAH  &c.  assorted. 

BROWN'S  SHORT  CATECHISM. 

THEOPHILUS  AND  SOPHIA,  by 

Mrs.  Sherwood. 

METHODIST  CATECHISMS. 
WESLEYAN        do.  No.  1,  2  and  3. 

IN    PRESS, 

The  Complete  Works  of  the  Rev. 
WM.  JAY,  and  will  be  published  in  Oc- 
tober, 1832. 

Toscther  with  a  full  supply  of  BOOKS 
and  STATIONARY,  on  the  most  fa- 
vourable terms. 

(EFAll  orders  thankfully  received  and 
promptly  attended  to. 


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